Making time to get out and explore isn’t necessarily something we (my family) think about, it’s just…kind of…what we do.
We make spending time outside a priority almost unintentionally. It’s just…a part of who we are.
Whether it’s a quick bike ride after work or a walk along the river trail or up the local hill, fresh air ramblings are an important feature of our weekly lives. But when the season transitions come into play, it’s that much more important for us to get out – to experience this transition time, celebrate the season that is ending and embrace the new one we’re entering into…
I hope this is a time you and your family can indulge in, too. Get outside, explore, and enjoy these cool mornings/evenings and sun-warmed afternoons!
Original post published with Postfly The Wade blog.
This was my third trip to Alaska in 10 months – it was time to bring the fly rod.
I arrived in Fairbanks on a Monday evening after a planes-trains-and-automobiles-kind-of-day. It’s a 5-hour drive to the airport from my modest, middle-of-nowhere abode in southern Colorado. Then, it’s a mad dash through security, hop the train to the gate and endure a 3+-hour flight, an hour-long layover and one more (4-hour) flight until I could grab a rental car and resolve myself to time zone shifts and a cup of tea in my hotel room.
The sun isn’t setting
I thought sleep would come easy. I was wrong. I pulled the blinds only to realize they were stationary; mounted like a useless piece of wall art purchased and hung over a decade ago. I grabbed a random piece of hotel furniture from across the room and shoved it into the sliding glass door, sandwiching said curtains just enough to allow me to blanket the light and ease my over-tired eyes. All the while, I couldn’t help but think about the unexpectedly-muddy river views from seat 10F. Though the waters I saw from above appeared blown out, I told myself that was probably some other river. The Chena will be fine…it’s grayling season after all…all the websites told me this is the time of year to fish this place! I was still (naïvely) hopeful to land some arctic bullets.
The game plan
My professional priority that week was not landing fish. I had work to do and it had nothing to do with setting up new reels, matching flies to hatches, or navigating to unknown fishing spots beyond town limits. My personal priority, however (if I must travel for work and be away from my family, I’m going to indulge), hummed a different tune. I readied my gear and on day 2 – during a lunch break, of course – B-lined it to the local fly shop with a colleague from the lower 48 and fellow fly-fisher.
We walked into the shop determined, headed to the fly counter and found “The Guy to Talk To”. I knew our time was fleeting, so I cut to the chase: We’ve got two days and I’d really, really like to land a grayling – what do you think? He paused for a long moment – like, the kind of pause that translates to “you don’t want to know what I think because you’re not gonna like it”. I waited. He stumbled over his words, apologizing for all the things out of both of our control. The weather got us. This spring was an exceptionally wet one across the region – even though fires were still burning – and the Chena was, in fact, blown out. The fishing was off and mild storms were stacking up for the foreseeable future…he thought we might have a chance floating it, but there was no time for that.
As he marked up a poorly rendered, mass-produced, not-even-close-to-being-to-scale tourist map for “theoretical” productive grayling spots, his eyes lit up a little bit and I watched him write the word. He didn’t speak it and promptly required we take an oath of silence. It was early for them to show up, but word on the street was: They were there. This place didn’t exist and we heard nothing. Whether the outcome was feisty, silvery wild arctic grayling or spawning pigs didn’t matter – the pursuit for anything was on at this point. We grabbed our licenses, flies and headed back to our meeting (late).
I clenched to what little hope I had left
Later than afternoon, we made the drive out to the site-we-shall-not-speak-of…
What should have been a scenic, 30-minute cruise turned into over an hour of navigating in circles, passing one busted, rusted front yard-full of cars, trucks, busses and boats after the next, searching for a cell signal and the slight chance our phones’ maps would reveal a blue spot among on the tan. Found it.
We opened the doors and were immediately met with a cloud of relentless blood-suckers: Welcome to Alaska. We walked.
Stay to the right, pass the ponds, follow the trail about 50 yards. I replayed the words spoken by the “Guy to Talk To” in my head – all the while hollering “HEY BEAR! HEEEYYY BEAR! WHERE’S MY MONEY, BEAR?!” (pretty sure my colleague now things I’m a crazy woman). When we spotted the trail, my hopes boosted a bit.
Reality set in
Cast…cast…walk…cast…swap flies…cast…pass another set of moose tracks…holler for bears…cast…
The waters were muddy, high, and fast. Dries weren’t working and swinging colorful streamers produced a whole lot of nothing. Some time later, with hands and foreheads swollen from the locals indulging on our lifeblood (and daylight still blazing in the land of the midnight sun) we decided to call it. It was getting late and we passed a promising brewery down the road, after all.
spon·ta·ne·i·ty:the condition of being spontaneous; spontaneous behavior or action; voluntary or undetermined action or movement
Transition seasons. I absolutely LOVE transition seasons.
I am intentional with most decisions in my life. I like to have a plan (but still be spontaneous at times) and for that (and maybe a few other reasons), my husband often calls me “Type A”. I’ll take it as a compliment (most of the time) because I think it means I’m intentional and determined…while not being a total stick-in-the-mud lame-o. That’s right, I used both of those words/phrases.
What does this have to do with transition seasons? A lot, oddly. There is something so magical about the shoulder of time between summer and winter – and winter and spring, for that matter. While I love wading the cooler river water in the hot summer sun and skiing the amazing powder of winter, fall is a time for me to gather, plan, maybe nest a bit and indulge in the transition from constant new life and growth of the summer to more of a hibernation, calm state of the colder months to come.
I am intentional in this process – I planned my wedding around this season, I am deliberate with finding landscapes and opportunities to photograph new people and places during this season (because who doesn’t love fall colors!?), and I tend to reorganize and restock the pantry and freezers (wild game, frozen garden goods, etc).
As we embrace cooler weather and a new season, I hope you, too, are both intentional and spontaneous as the days get shorter, the sun gets lower, and summer comes to an end and the fall season gets into full swing!
I do a lot of different photography – “lifestyle”, family portraits, marketing and photosets for the myriad of pieces I write for various publications and blogs – but I particularly love capturing authentic stories. Cue weddings…
These are days full of anticipation, excitement and maybe even anxiousness. Family and friends gather together – some that haven’t been in the same time zone for quite some time – and celebrate two incredibly special people that share and incredibly special love. How much more authentic can you get?
This past weekend, I had the pleasure of reconnecting with a couple I met earlier this year for their engagement session, and photographed their big day. It was a new venue for me – and one I hope to visit again since it was right on the river with some nice fishing holes 😉
Congrats to Bre and a Michael and the joining of two wonderful families…and thank you for the opportunity to capture your day so that your memories will never fade…