Beyond the Cast

Tag: hiking

  • The Art of Solitude: Why I Chase Wild Places with a Fly Rod and a Camera

    The Art of Solitude: Why I Chase Wild Places with a Fly Rod and a Camera

    “In the stillness of a riverbend or the hush of pine shadows on a mountain trail, I find something that feels closer to truth than anything I’ve found in the noise of daily life.”

    Introduction: Where Silence Begins

    There’s something sacred about the sound of your boots crunching on a trail before sunrise. When the only other noise is the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of water, that’s where solitude begins. It’s not about loneliness—it’s about space. Space to think. Space to breathe. Space to reconnect.

    For me, that space has always been filled with two things: a fly rod in one hand, and a camera slung over my shoulder.

    The Pull of the Wild

    Fishing isn’t just a sport—it’s a rhythm. It slows life down. The act of watching a mayfly drift, of reading currents and shadows, and feeling the tension in a line before a strike—it pulls you into the present like few things can.

    Photography is the same. It demands patience. Observation. The willingness to wait for light to break just right through canyon walls or for the breeze to settle before clicking the shutter.

    In wild places, these two crafts merge. The fly rod casts for trout, the lens captures the light—and together, they etch a memory into your soul.

    Solitude Isn’t Escaping—It’s Returning

    People often think solitude is running from the world. But the truth is, it’s returning to what matters. Out there—along the banks of a freestone river or deep in a Texas marsh—you’re not bombarded by alerts, deadlines, or expectations. You’re just being.

    Fishing forces you to observe. To learn. To fail, and try again. The same goes for photography. It teaches you to see what you missed the first time. And in both, you learn that success is quiet. It’s not always the fish caught or the perfect photo. Sometimes it’s just that you were there.

    Why I Keep Coming Back

    I’ve fished from the saltgrass flats of Galveston to alpine streams in New Mexico, camera packed tight beside my reels. I’ve camped beside waters that sang me to sleep, and hiked miles before dawn to reach a pool that might hold a single rising trout.

    I do it for the adventure.

    I do it for the peace.

    But mostly—I do it to remember who I am when everything else is stripped away.

    The wild has a way of revealing truths. It’s where I go to reset, to listen, and to create. And every photo I take or fish I release is a thank-you note to the land that gave me the quiet I needed.

    What You Can Take With You

    If you’re someone who’s felt overwhelmed by the buzz of modern life, I’d encourage you to pick up a fly rod, a camera, or even just a journal—and go.

    Find a river. Hike a trail. Camp in the backcountry. Wake before the sun. Cast badly. Take blurry shots. But stay out there long enough to feel the noise fade.

    Because once you do—you’ll understand this:

    Solitude isn’t empty. It’s full of the things that truly matter.

    Gear I Bring for Solitude

    • Fly Rod Setup: Sage Spectrum C reel, 4–6 wt rods depending on the water
    • Camera: Canon R5 + Sigma Art & Canon L-Series lenses
    • Tripod: K&F Concept carbon tripod
    • Filters: K&F ND filters for long exposures on streams
    • Editing Workflow: Lightroom Mobile on iPad Pro during the trip, stacked images for depth

    Final Thoughts: The Quiet Places Need Our Voice

    Solitude may be personal—but it’s also endangered. As more wild places shrink under development and public land access is threatened, we have a responsibility to protect what heals us.

    I encourage you to support conservation efforts, educate others, and share your own moments in the wild. Whether through words, photos, or quiet action—remind others why these places matter.

    Because if we lose them, we don’t just lose fish or trails—we lose a part of ourselves.

  • Chasing Rainbows and Smallmouth: A Spring Fly Fishing Trip to Broken Bow

    Chasing Rainbows and Smallmouth: A Spring Fly Fishing Trip to Broken Bow

    After months of planning and a long drive through winding forest roads, I finally pulled into Beavers Bend State Park and set up camp along the Lower Mountain Fork River. The spring air was crisp, the dogwoods were just starting to bloom, and the sound of moving water echoed through the pines. It didn’t take long to shake off the road and get a line in the water.

    That first evening, with the light starting to soften and the river glowing gold, I managed to connect with a few hungry rainbows. They weren’t picky—small nymphs drifted through the seams did the trick. The bites came steady enough to remind me why I love this place.

    After a quick dinner by the fire, I settled into camp under a canopy of stars, the rhythmic hoots of owls echoing through the trees.

    The next morning, I woke up early to fish the cooler temps. The water was still moving clear and strong, and once again the rainbows were willing. I caught several before the sky started turning gray and rumbles of thunder rolled over the treetops. I packed up just before the rain let loose. Back at camp, I waited it out with some lunch and watched the storm wash the dust off the forest.

    By late afternoon, the weather broke just enough to slip back onto the water. The air was cool and damp, and the fish were active again. There’s something about fishing after a storm—the river feels fresh, the light is moody, and the fish seem to know it.

    The next day I decided to stretch my legs and hike deeper into the park. The trail twisted along the river, past waterfalls trickling over mossy rocks and wildflowers blooming in hidden pockets of sunlight. With my fly rod strapped to my pack and my camera swinging from my shoulder, I made slow, intentional progress—fishing the deeper pools and riffles along the way. The reward? A mix of feisty smallmouth bass and more rainbows, all tucked away in less-pressured water.

    Waterfalls I found hiking to the river

    Between casts, I couldn’t help but take in the scenery. Spring in Broken Bow is something special—lush greens, sparkling creeks, waterfalls hidden in the woods, and skies that seem to shift with every hour. 

    I stopped often to shoot photos of blooming wildflowers, dripping foliage, and scenic overlooks. The light was perfect for moody forest shots and those soft, misty river images I love capturing.


    Over the next several days, the fishing held strong. Morning and evening were best, especially with dry-dropper rigs and small streamers. Each night brought its own rhythm—raccoons rustling around camp looking for snacks, barred owls calling across the river, and the gentle hum of the forest settling in for the night. It was peaceful, wild, and exactly the kind of escape I was hoping for.

    This trip to Broken Bow was a perfect blend of fly fishing, photography, and soaking in spring’s return. The combination of eager trout, backcountry hikes, and unexpected encounters—both wildlife and weather—made it one for the books. If you’re thinking about chasing fish and quiet in southeast Oklahoma, spring is a great time to go.

  • Risk in the Backcountry

    Risk in the Backcountry

    When is the last time you took a risk? How did it work out?

    The last real risk I took wasn’t about money, career, or anything you could measure in numbers. It was a gamble on a hunch, a blue line on a topo map and a feeling that maybe—just maybe—that little remote stream tucked into the backcountry might be worth it.

    It wasn’t easy to get to. No real trail, just a vague path of game trails and overgrown brush, with a few miles of elevation gain thrown in for fun. I packed light, but still had my fly gear, camera, tripod, and just enough food and water to make it through a long day (and maybe a rough night, if needed). I didn’t know if the stream would even hold fish—or be accessible for good photos—but I was all in.

    What I found was better than expected.

    The stream wound through a quiet alpine meadow, untouched and crystal clear, bordered by wildflowers and soft light that made the whole place glow. Brook trout darted in and out of the current, and cutthroat rose to dry flies like they hadn’t seen a human in years—maybe they hadn’t. I got some of my favorite shots of the entire trip that day. Reflections, action shots, and one perfect capture of a brookie suspended mid-release, framed by golden hour light.

    That little risk—trusting the map, the instinct, and being willing to explore—paid off big. Not just in fish caught or photos taken, but in the feeling of discovering something wild and real. Those are the risks I live for.

  • Finding Stillness: How I Unwind After a Demanding Day

    Finding Stillness: How I Unwind After a Demanding Day

    Daily writing prompt
    How do you unwind after a demanding day?
    View all responses

    After a long, demanding day, I find peace in the simplest moments—flipping through a good book, hiking a quiet trail, casting a fly into a still pool, or just watching the light shift through the trees. Whether it’s photography that helps me slow down and focus on the little details, or a walk through the woods to reset my perspective, nature is my go-to reset button. These moments remind me to breathe deeper, move slower, and live more intentionally.

    Comanche Point
  • Part 3: Chasing Trout and Light on the Pine River Trail

    Part 3: Chasing Trout and Light on the Pine River Trail

    Some rivers don’t give up their secrets easily. The Pine River, also known as Los Pinos, is one of them. Tucked deep in the Weminuche Wilderness of Southwest Colorado, it requires effort, patience, and a willingness to hike into solitude. But if you’re after wild trout in clear mountain water—and the kind of light that makes your photos glow—there are few places more rewarding.

    The Trailhead to Solitude

    The journey starts at the Pine River Trailhead near Vallecito Reservoir. It’s a dusty parking lot, a worn wooden sign, and a reminder that you’re on the edge of something vast—the largest wilderness area in Colorado.

    The trail runs along private land for the first few miles, so fishing and camping are off limits early on. But once you cross into the national forest boundary, the river opens up, wild and remote. The elevation gain is steady but forgiving, and the views just keep getting better. Towering peaks peek through pines, and wildflowers bloom along the trail like a postcard from July.

    With my Canon R5, K&F Concept backpack, and 5wt rod, I hit the trail just after sunrise. The air was crisp, golden light filtered through the lodgepoles, and the river sparkled below.

    Early Light and River Mist

    I stopped just past the wilderness boundary where the river flattened into a lazy bend. The mist rose off the water like breath, and I dropped my pack to capture the moment. Using my 70–200mm lens, I focused on the layers—backlit pine branches, the soft swirl of fog, and the glint of sun hitting the waterline.

    For long exposures, I mounted my tripod, dialed in a low ISO, and let the shutter run. These are the kinds of images I live for—where the emotion of the place shines through the frame.

    Setting Up the Rig

    The Pine River demands versatility. I rigged up a dry-dropper setup: a #14 Parachute Adams up top and a #16 Hare’s Ear Nymph trailing below. These fish are educated and spooky, especially in slow pools. I used long, fine tippet and cast from behind boulders, keeping my shadow off the water.

    The first fish came from a seam near a fallen log—a small but healthy brown. I paused to photograph the catch, using my hand and net for scale, carefully positioning the fish with the sun behind me to avoid harsh glare. A few quick shots, then back in the water.

    Fishing and Shooting in Rhythm

    Backcountry fly fishing is about finding rhythm—between casts, between hikes, between light and shadow. I alternated between fishing pocket water and photographing the surroundings. A high ridge caught my eye, so I swapped out lenses and shot wide to capture the dramatic sweep of the river carving its way through the forested canyon.

    I kept my camera settings flexible, using aperture priority mode to adapt quickly between moving trout and landscape shots. My K&F Concept backpack made transitions easy, with side access panels for grabbing a lens mid-hike or stashing a fly box fast.

    Wild Trout and Wild Moments

    The further I hiked, the wilder the water became. Cutthroat started showing up—small, brilliantly colored, and lightning quick. I switched flies to a #12 Yellow Humpy with a CDC midge dropper, and it paid off. Several fish rose in tight, riffled corners that required tricky casts and precise drifts.

    I kneeled in cold, mossy shallows, capturing tight macro shots of wildflowers along the riverbanks—bluebells, Indian paintbrush, and buttercups reflected in the water’s surface. These images tell just as much of the story as the fish themselves.

    Storms and Staying Safe

    Mid-afternoon, the familiar rumble of thunder rolled through the canyon. I packed up fast, knowing that weather in the high country turns fast. The trail turned slick, and I was glad I had lightweight rain gear and a waterproof pack.

    Back at camp, I dried off and reviewed photos on my iPad Pro, backed up my files, and journaled the day. A deep sense of satisfaction settled in—the kind you only get after chasing trout and light deep into the wilderness.

    Pine River Highlights

    • Best Flies: Parachute Adams, Hare’s Ear Nymphs, Yellow Humpies, CDC Midges

    • Best Light: Early morning mist and late golden hour

    • Photography Gear: Canon R5, 24–70mm lens, 70–200mm lens, K&F carbon tripod

    • Fishing Tip: Approach low, cast upstream, and let your dry fly lead the way

    This stretch of the Pine River is what I chase—trout in untouched waters, scenes only your boots can reach, and photos you can’t take from the side of the road.

    Up Next: Part 4 – Animas Mornings: Big Water and Bigger Scenes

  • Part 2: Into the Pines — Hiking to the La Plata River with a Fly Rod and a Camera

    Part 2: Into the Pines — Hiking to the La Plata River with a Fly Rod and a Camera

    There’s something about hiking into trout water that changes the whole rhythm of a trip. You leave behind the road noise, the cell signal, the crowded pull-offs—and start tuning into the sound of the wind through lodgepoles and the hush of a river just over the next rise. That’s what drew me to the La Plata River, tucked into a quiet stretch of high country in Southwest Colorado. Part fishing trip, part photo expedition—this was a day I won’t forget.

    Starting the Hike: Pines, Shade, and Altitude

    The La Plata River trailhead isn’t flashy. It starts modestly with a dirt pull-off and quickly dips into shady pine groves. The trail follows the contour of the valley with occasional glimpses of the river down below. What makes this hike special isn’t just the destination, but the quiet, ever-changing terrain: groves of aspen, mossy boulders, and alpine meadows dotted with summer wildflowers.

    With my K&F Concept camera backpack strapped tight and a 4wt fly rod rigged up and ready to go, I eased into a slow pace, letting my eyes adjust to the light and scanning the trail for photo moments—a glint of water through the trees, a mule deer in the brush, shafts of light through pine needles.

    Wildflowers and Wildlife: Photography on the Move

    Early summer in this part of Colorado is a photographer’s dream. Bright orange Indian paintbrush, purple columbines, and patches of lupine lit up the trail edges. I switched to my 24–70mm lens, using a low angle to capture the pop of color against the green pines.

    Light is everything here. I used a circular polarizer to punch up the color and reduce glare when shooting near water. My Canon R5 handled the dynamic light shifts like a champ—especially when a young mule deer stepped out into a clearing, perfectly backlit, right as I crested a ridge.

    First Glimpse of the River

    About two miles in, I heard it before I saw it. The La Plata winds through tight canyons and then flattens into glassy, slow runs bordered by grassy banks. I dropped my pack, switched into my wading shoes, and tied on a #14 Yellow Stimulator with a Beadhead Pheasant Tail dropper.

    The water was crystal clear—trout country through and through.

    Stealth and Strategy: Small Water Fly Fishing

    Fishing the La Plata is a finesse game. These are wild fish, likely never hooked, and they spook at shadows. I crouched low, casting upstream into shady runs and behind midstream boulders. Several small browns darted for the fly but refused last second. On a good drift, the dropper disappeared and I brought in my first fish of the trip—a buttery brown trout with fire-orange spots. I paused for a quick photo with the fish hovering just above the net, backlit by the sun.

    I love these moments—the stillness, the soft light, the ripple of success after a quiet approach. The fish here aren’t big, but they’re beautiful and strong.

    The Midday Light Shift

    By midday, the lighting got harsh—tougher for photos, but perfect for exploring. I shot reflections along a wide bend of the river, switching to a 70–200mm lens to compress layers of pine ridges and storm clouds moving in.

    Back at a mossy boulder overlooking a slow pool, I set up my tripod for a long exposure of the water sliding through rocks. These are the frames I love—where fly fishing meets fine art photography.

    Safety First in the Backcountry

    Clouds started to build, as they often do in Colorado’s high country. I kept my eye on the sky, wrapping up fishing and heading back toward the trailhead before the afternoon storms rolled in. That’s one lesson I’ve learned: no fish is worth getting caught in a lightning storm above 9,000 feet.

    On the hike out, I paused one last time to shoot the fading light over the valley, grateful for a day that felt more like a retreat than a mission.

    Tips for Fishing & Photographing the La Plata River

    • Start early: For soft light and calm water, hit the trail before sunrise.

    • Use a dry-dropper rig: Small dries like Stimulators or Elk Hair Caddis paired with beadhead nymphs are deadly.

    • Pack light, but smart: The K&F backpack let me carry camera gear, fly gear, food, and a rain shell without overload.

    • Bring a polarizer: It transforms mid-day shots and makes colors pop.

    • Shoot with purpose: Capture the fish, but also the landscape, light, and journey—it tells the full story.

    This hike into the La Plata River reminded me why I chase these moments—where the line between fishing and photography disappears. The sound of moving water, a trout rising to a dry, and the snap of the shutter are all part of the same rhythm.

    Up Next: Part 3 — Chasing Trout and Light on the Pine River Trail

  • Part 1: Waders, Lenses, and Maps — Planning a Colorado Fly Fishing Photography Trip

    Part 1: Waders, Lenses, and Maps — Planning a Colorado Fly Fishing Photography Trip

    Planning a backcountry fly fishing and photography trip is a lot like tying the perfect fly—you’ve got to think ahead, match conditions, and be ready to adapt. In this first part of my Colorado series, I want to share how I planned my multi-river adventure into the high country, blending two of my favorite things: fly fishing for wild trout and capturing the wild beauty of the mountains through a camera lens.

    This trip took me deep into Southwest Colorado, targeting remote stretches of the La Plata River, Pine River, Dolores, Animas, and Florida River. Each river offered its own challenges, scenic backdrops, and trout behaviors—making the planning stage even more important.

    Mapping the Adventure

    I started with tools like Google Earth, Gaia GPS, and the TroutRoutes app to scout access points, trailheads, and water that looked fishy from above. Topo maps helped me estimate mileage and elevation gain for hikes, and I cross-checked each section with known public lands or wilderness boundaries.

    The Pine River Trail and the La Plata River hikes stood out for their mix of beauty, remoteness, and good trout habitat. I marked down potential campsites along the trail and noted river crossings or sections that might become hazardous with runoff.

    Timing the Trip

    Late summer (late July through early September) is prime time for Colorado backcountry fly fishing. Snowmelt has usually slowed, making rivers more accessible, while hatches are still consistent. Wildflowers peak during this window, and the weather (though unpredictable) is often stable enough for longer treks.

    I kept a close eye on weather reports, snowpack data, and monsoon activity, especially since lightning and flash floods are real dangers in the high country. I packed accordingly—with quick-dry layers, a solid rain jacket, and a waterproof K&F Concept camera backpack to keep my gear safe.

    Fly Fishing Gear Considerations

    Fishing gear Waders Rod and reel

    I packed a 9’ 5wt rod for open water and a 7.5’ 4wt for tighter streams. I went with my trusty Sage Spectrum C reel and a variety of floating lines, knowing I’d fish mostly dries and light droppers. My fly box included a carefully curated selection:

    • Parachute Adams (#14–18)

    • Elk Hair Caddis (#14)

    • Yellow Stimulators (#12–14)

    • Beadhead Pheasant Tails (#16)

    • CDC Midges (#20)

    • Black Woolly Buggers (#8)

    • Hoppers and flying ants (for summer action)

    This wasn’t just a fishing trip—I had to think like a backpacker and a photographer, which made my packing even more dialed in.

    Photography Planning

    When it comes to fly fishing photography, weight and protection are huge. I brought my Canon R5, a 24–70mm f/2.8 lens for landscapes and action, and a 70–200mm f/2.8 for compression shots and wildlife. My K&F Concept carbon tripod gave me a lightweight but stable base for long exposures and evening light.

    I also packed:

    • Circular polarizer to reduce water glare

    • ND filter for waterfalls and river movement

    • Lens cloths, extra batteries, and SD cards

    • Lightroom Mobile on my iPad Pro for quick edits in camp

    When planning photography in the backcountry, it helps to scout shot locations beforehand using satellite images or even previous trip photos. I created a loose shot list: mist rising over pools, trout in hand with glowing light, macro shots of wildflowers, and long exposures of rivers at sunset.

    Safety & Self-Sufficiency

    One of the most critical parts of a backcountry fishing trip is safety. I carried a Garmin inReach Mini for emergencies and communication, plus a first-aid kit, headlamp, multitool, and bear spray (just in case). I let family know my plan, printed a trail map, and downloaded offline GPS maps.

    Keeping camera gear dry was also a safety issue—because nothing ruins a trip faster than soaking your camera in a surprise storm or river dunk. The K&F camera backpack’s waterproof bottom and removable insert gave me peace of mind, even while wading or crossing creeks.

    Building Flexibility Into the Plan

    No matter how dialed in your route is, backcountry travel in Colorado demands flexibility. Storms can shut down trails. Rivers can blow out overnight. You can get to a perfect pool and find it unfishable due to runoff or debris.

    So I planned several alternate camps and marked backup spots with easier access. I also packed extra food in case a day ran long, and my fly box had both attractors and match-the-hatch options.

    Final Thoughts Before Hitting the Trail

    Planning is half the fun of a trip like this—imagining where the fish might be, where the light will hit the canyon walls, and how to tell the story when it’s all over. I hope this series helps inspire your own adventures, and if you’re dreaming about chasing wild trout in wild places, stay tuned. Part 2 takes us into the forest along the La Plata River, where the trail narrows, the river gets clear, and every cast counts.

    Up Next: Part 2 – Into the Pines: Hiking to the La Plata River with a Fly Rod and a Camera

  • Planning My Fishing Trips: From Texas Marshes to Colorado’s Wild Trout Streams

    Planning My Fishing Trips: From Texas Marshes to Colorado’s Wild Trout Streams

    Every fishing trip I take starts with a map, a cup of coffee, and a little imagination. Whether I’m launching my kayak into the quiet marshes of Galveston Bay or loading up my fly rod for a week chasing trout in the mountains of southwest Colorado, I treat every trip like its own adventure.

    Over time, I’ve built a system that helps me find the right water, prepare for changing conditions, and capture moments along the way through fishing photography. It’s a mix of digital scouting, tide and river flow research, fly fishing strategy, and a lot of intuition.

    Here’s how I plan my trips—from coastal redfish missions to high-country fly fishing—along with the tools, tactics, and gear that help me get the most out of every cast.

    Step One: Finding the Right Water

    When I’m planning a coastal trip around Galveston, I start with Google Earth fishing maps. I zoom in on marsh drains, shell reefs, and grass flats, marking potential ambush points where redfish and speckled trout might be waiting for bait to push through with the tide.

    For trout fishing trips, I turn to the TroutRoutes app, especially when heading into places like the Dolores River, Pine River, Animas River, or Florida River in Colorado. TroutRoutes shows me public access points, fly fishing regulations, and real-time stream flows—all in one spot. It’s hands-down one of my favorite apps for planning fly fishing trips in Colorado.

    Screenshot trout fishing map of Dolores River using TroutRoutes
    Screenshot trout fishing map of Dolores River using Google Earth

    I also pull up local fly shop reports and check in with forums and social groups. A few minutes of reading recent trip reports can save me hours on the water later.

    Timing is Everything: Tides, River Flows & Weather

    Fishing success is all about timing and conditions.

    On the coast, I build my trips around tide charts, solunar tables, and wind forecasts. I want to be on the water as the tide’s moving—either pulling bait into the marsh or draining it out through cuts and creeks. That moving water gets everything active, especially when paired with stable pressure and clean water.

    For my Colorado trips, I pay close attention to USGS stream gauges. If flows are too high from runoff or summer storms, I might switch to a smaller tributary or hit a tailwater like the lower Dolores. Watching water temperature is equally important—trout get lethargic in warmer water, especially in late summer.

    “Success often comes down to 15 minutes of movement—when the tide shifts or the hatch explodes.”

    My Fishing Strategies: Flats to Freestones

    Inshore Fishing: Texas Marsh Tactics

    When I’m chasing redfish on the flats, I’m looking for signs of life—nervous bait, shrimp jumping, birds diving, or the golden back of a redfish pushing through grass. I love fishing with paddle tails, especially the JVS Custom Baits Rip Rap in Copper Penny or a 3.5” Speed Shrimp when fish are keyed in on crustaceans.

    If I’m fly fishing in the marsh, I keep it simple: crab and shrimp patterns, long leaders, and a quiet approach. Sight casting to tailing reds never gets old.

    Mountain Fly Fishing: Reading Water & Matching the Hatch

    In Colorado, fishing rivers like the Pine or Animas means constantly adjusting to what the water gives me. One bend might call for dry flies in pocket water, the next might demand nymphs under an indicator in a deep, slow pool.

    When the hatch is on—especially during a caddis or stonefly emergence—I’m in heaven. There’s something about watching a trout rise in fast water, especially when I’ve hiked in for miles with just a small pack and a fly box in my pocket.

    Safety First: Especially in the Backcountry

    Whether I’m kayaking a remote bay system or hiking into the upper Florida River, I take safety seriously.

    • I carry offline maps and GPS, especially when I’m deep in the mountains or out of cell range in a bay system.

    • I use a Personal Locator Beacon (PLB) for emergencies—peace of mind goes a long way.

    • In mountain country, I pack layers for changing weather, a water filter, and bear spray when needed.

    Knowing how to read the weather—and knowing when to pull the plug—has saved me more than once.

    Capturing the Experience: Fishing Photography in the Field

    Fishing is about more than just catching fish. For me, it’s also about the quiet moments between casts—the mist rising off a river at dawn, a redfish tail breaking the surface, or a trout slipping back into cold, clear water.

    That’s where photography comes in. I bring my Canon R5, along with a few key lenses: a Canon L-series for landscape shots, and a Sigma for tighter portraits of fish and wildlife.

    I use:

    • A K&F Concept tripod for stability when shooting long exposures

    • Polarizing filters to cut glare and bring out the detail in water shots

    • A dry bag and padded camera insert to protect my gear in the kayak or backpack

    Some of my favorite moments are captured during the golden hour—sunset glowing off a canyon wall in the Animas, or first light over the saltgrass back home in Galveston.

    Final Thoughts: Why I Plan Fishing Trips This Way

    I fish for the thrill of the catch—but also for the quiet, the challenge, and the story. The time I spend planning my trips—researching tides, scouting rivers, organizing gear—is all part of the journey.

    Fishing the Dolores River one day and stalking redfish on the Texas coast the next keeps me connected to the water in totally different ways. Both require patience, curiosity, and a little humility.

    If you’re planning your own trip—whether it’s chasing tailing redfish or hiking into a hidden trout stream—take your time. Look at maps. Check the flows. Watch the weather. Bring a camera. And most importantly, enjoy the ride.

    Tight lines and clear skies—see you out there.

  • Capturing Nature: The Art of Photography While Fishing and Hiking

    Capturing Nature: The Art of Photography While Fishing and Hiking

    There’s something about being out in nature that awakens the creative side of me. Whether I’m fishing in the still waters of a misty morning or hiking through rugged mountain trails, my Canon R5 is always by my side, ready to capture the beauty that unfolds around me. Photography, much like fishing, is a pursuit of patience and precision—waiting for the right moment, the perfect light, and the ideal composition to bring a scene to life.

    The Art of Seeing While Fishing

    Fishing has always been about more than just the catch for me. It’s about the experience—the rhythm of the water, the way the sky shifts in color as the day progresses, and the subtle interactions of nature happening all around. When I’m on the water, I’m not just scanning for signs of fish; I’m searching for those fleeting, beautiful moments that make fishing such an immersive experience.

    The golden hour, when the first light of dawn touches the water or when the sun dips low in the evening, offers some of the most magical photography opportunities. The reflections on the water, the soft hues blending across the horizon, the silhouette of a wading bird patiently stalking its prey—all of these moments tell a story. I often find myself pausing mid-cast just to take it all in, knowing that sometimes the most rewarding part of the trip isn’t reeling in a fish but capturing the essence of the moment through my lens.

    The challenge of photographing on the water lies in movement—both mine and my surroundings. Kayak fishing, in particular, adds an extra layer of difficulty. The water shifts, the wind pushes, and my subject rarely stays still. But that’s part of the excitement. It forces me to be deliberate in my composition, to anticipate the perfect frame before I even lift my camera. The Canon R5’s fast autofocus and incredible dynamic range allow me to capture fine details, from the scales of a freshly caught redfish glistening in the sun to the intricate ripples left behind by a leaping mullet.

    Beyond the technical aspects, photography while fishing is a way of documenting the journey. It’s about freezing those perfect, untamed moments—like the way the early morning mist clings to the water’s surface or how a storm front builds over the horizon, creating a dramatic contrast against the calm bay. These are the images that bring back the feeling of the trip long after I’ve left the water.

    Finding Beauty in the Mountains

    When I’m not on the water, I often find myself drawn to the mountains. Hiking is an entirely different experience, but one that feeds my love for both adventure and photography. Unlike fishing, where I’m often stationary for long stretches, hiking presents an ever-changing landscape, each bend in the trail revealing new opportunities to frame a shot.

    Colorado Blue Columbine

    The mountains have a way of humbling you. Standing at the base of a towering peak or gazing out over a valley stretching endlessly into the horizon, you realize how small you are in comparison to the vastness of nature. Capturing that feeling in a photograph is both a challenge and a joy. Composition plays a crucial role—finding the right foreground elements to give a sense of depth, using leading lines to draw the eye toward a distant summit, or waiting for the clouds to break just enough to let a dramatic ray of light cascade down the slopes.

    I love the contrast between grand landscapes and small details. While a panoramic shot of mountain ridges bathed in morning light can be breathtaking, sometimes it’s the little things that tell the most powerful stories—the gnarled roots of an ancient tree gripping the rocky soil, a single wildflower blooming defiantly at the edge of a cliff, or the way frost patterns form on a high-altitude lake at dawn. My Canon R5 excels at capturing both extremes, allowing me to shoot sweeping landscapes and intricate macro shots with equal clarity.

    One of my favorite aspects of mountain photography is how the environment constantly changes. Weather in the mountains is unpredictable, and that unpredictability creates some of the most striking images. A sudden break in the clouds after a storm can flood the valley with golden light, turning an otherwise ordinary scene into something spectacular. The play of shadows as the sun moves across jagged peaks can create dramatic contrasts that make the landscape come alive. It’s all about being in the right place at the right time—another parallel between photography and fishing.

    Blending Adventure with Artistry

    What I love most about photography, whether on the water or in the mountains, is how it forces me to slow down and truly see the world around me. It’s easy to rush through a fishing trip focused only on the next cast or to hike with a mindset of simply reaching the summit. But photography encourages me to be present—to notice the light filtering through the trees, the patterns in the waves, the way nature composes itself in perfect harmony if you take the time to see it.

    Fishing and hiking both offer a sense of escape, a break from the noise of everyday life. Photography allows me to take a piece of that escape with me, to relive those moments through images that hold not just the visuals, but the emotions of the experience. It’s about more than just snapping a picture; it’s about telling a story—one of adventure, of solitude, of the raw beauty that exists in the natural world.

    With every trip, I come home with a collection of images, each one a reminder of where I’ve been and what I’ve seen. Some of them end up shared, printed, or framed, while others remain personal, tucked away as snapshots of my journey. But all of them serve the same purpose: they capture the moments that make being out in nature so meaningful. And as long as I have a fishing rod in one hand and my Canon R5 in the other, I know there will always be more moments waiting to be captured.

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    Tight lines, and see you Beyond the Cast!

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