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The changing of seasons is always difficult for me. Mostly because I'm impatient and I want it to happen right away. I expect flowers to bloom the first day of spring and 40 degree nights the beginning of autumn. Apparently, mother nature still hasn't received my memo.
Here in Western North Carolina, we've had a particularly long, wet, warm year. Jacob and I recently joked that we saw a groundhog and he told us there would be six more weeks of summer.
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Taken in GSMNP, partially funded by the LWCF
As with all things US politics lately, the Land and Water Conservation Fund and its renewal have been no different. As of Sunday, the program expired. I was pretty bummed, wildly confused, and, as OIA (Outdoor Industry Association) put it, I felt LWCF'ed. I tried to put something together yesterday, but I was still too angry and didn't want to bring a mess load of politics into this space.
If you still don't know what LWCF is, it's a program that takes non-taxpayer money from drilling royalties and helps to fund our wild places and give us clean water. If you live in the US, you've most likely benefited from this program, it's active in almost every county in the country. So, losing it was a pretty big deal.
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We've fished this river for three years, several times a year, but not this section. Instead of heading up, as per usual, we took a gravel road down, until we reached the river. It was much smaller than up yonder, more enclosed, like the tunnels we are used to fishing in back East. Looking down into the small stretch of water there were no flashes of light indicating little trout, but we were already here. Plus, why not try and fish an entire stretch of river?
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The weather report called for afternoon thunderstorms, so a full day, high-country trip was out of the question. Heading north was out of the question. There had been one too many mudslides and we didn’t want to be stuck somewhere for hours. We threw out different directions and rivers for a while until we settled on a spot. We’d gone last year, been skunked, I wasn’t expecting much. I figured ‘hey, at least I get to be outside.’
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I've always considered myself to be a mountain person. I live, play, survive in the mountains, define myself by it. I've never been so wrong about anything. At best, I'm a hill person.
Last week, Jacob and I made plans to meet up with a fellow bamboo rod maker and one of my first rod bag customers, Dave Sornborger - Animas Rods. After all, we're are in his backyard, who better to show us around. "You're good with 2.5 miles, right?" Jacob asked me. I didn't give it a second thought. Two miles, seriously, that's a quick hike for me. It wasn't until the night before that I was informed that over the course of two-miles we'd be gaining 2,000 ft in elevation and starting off at 10,000 ft.
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I've always belived there's a difference between surviving and really, truly living. As with most people, some days, weeks, even months are spent just trying to survive, make it through the day. Then there are those other moments when you're living.
I've tried to build myself a life that isn't just simply waking up every day and getting through, but a life I love. I'm always thankful for this world I live in, but like everyone else, some days it simply comes down to surviving.
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