A Portrait of a Great Trip

Making the drive over the Hood Canal to the Olympic Peninsula on a clear and sunny August morning. Listening to Bendigo Fletcher and other folk music on your way set against the backdrop of lush evergreen forest and the Puget Sound.

Arriving at the trailhead and feeling that tingling excitement of a new trip flow through you. It makes you feel alive!

Hiking in and watching your GPS dot move ever closer towards an unknown X you dropped on a map where the trail should meet the stream and wondering how far off you’ll inevitably be.

Hearing the call of a mountain stream off in the distance and knowing that you’re getting closer to your destination with each step. You can feel the air change, too. It smells vibrant and refreshing.

Catching that first glimpse of rushing water through the trees; a calm turquoise pool or perhaps the whitewater from a series of small rapids. This scene has a way of putting the mind at immediate ease.

Meeting up with the stream at last and marking it on your map, then seeing how far off your initial estimations were.

Studying the layout of the stream before you with its pools and boulders and rifles. Drawing routes in your head about how best to maneuver to the far bank – or if it’s possible at all.

Stringing the fly line through the rod guide and hearing only the movement of the water flowing over the rocks and the rotary clicking of the reel.

Plucking a fly from your box that you tied after work the past week. And you pick it because you know that it was tied while thinking about this trip.

Making the first cast of the day gently as to not disturb the newfound water. Watching a small mountain trout rise to that first cast off of the rocky bottom. You couldn’t see him through the turbulent waters, but every instinct told you he would be there.

Missing that first strike because you didn’t think you’d see a rise on your first cast! And just grinning ear to ear that it happened.

Bringing the first trout of the day to hand and admiring its beauty. A violet hue on the gill plate that disperses into its blue and red components across the trout’s lateral line. Releasing it in the calm of the shallows and watching it dart back to the faster water.

Handing the rod over to your partner and standing back to watch and give pointers. It’s her first time holding a fly rod and she’s a natural.

Witnessing her reaction to the first surface strike and the rod bouncing like a spring from the recoil. Shortly after, her first solid connection as a rainbow trout leaps from the stream.

Instructing her to keep the line tight as she pulls it in; the trout still taking flight as it makes its way closer. Sliding the net under that first trout and soaking in all of the jubilation that ensues.

Snapping a quick photo before the release and watching her light up with joy before telling you that she wants to catch another. Pure bliss.

These are the moments when you feel most alive and the moments that keep you going back.