Over the past couple years there's been a movement in the angling community to kick plastic and pick up trash every time you go out fishing. The kick plastic was no big deal, I carry my hydro flask with me everywhere, but picking up trash proved to be a challenge. It's not that I'm opposed to cleaning up our rivers, but my net is just not big enough to hold the amount of plastic bags and water bottles, chip bags, and the inevitable Miller Lite Cans that seem to be everywhere. Filling up a net usually takes me a few minutes and then I move on to trying to shove trash in my pack or waders and always walking away disappointed.
Read moreWe All Need Winter
It was one o'clock on Friday afternoon when I heard about the 416 fire in Durango. I've checked in with friends, kept up with the various social media feeds, and listened attentively to the local public radio station. Last night I asked the universe to kindly send our evening thunderstorms out West for the remainder of the week, but so far my request has been denied. As of this morning, the 416 fire is covering 2,402 acres with 10% containment.
Read moreIs This The New Normal?
This morning I got an alert on my phone prompting me to be ready to evacuate my home in case of flooding or a landslide. I'm not too worried about the flooding part. We live on a hill, and while we may not be able to leave the house, we'll be okay. But, I've been surveying my neighbor's yard all morning and reminiscing about all the trees they've cut down over the years. I packed a small bag that's in the car, just in case.
It's been raining here in Western North Carolina for two straight days and we've got three to go. Last week we went through the same predicament. I'm not talking about soft, delicate rain, but hard rain, the kind associated with thunderstorms and hurricanes and tropical depressions (insert Alberto). It's dark and wet, a feeling of seasonal depression has started to creep back into my being.
Well-Read Wednesday {Becoming Abbzug & Public Lands}
I was fifteen years old when I decided I wanted to be Bonnie Abbzug when I grew up. This is also when I learned about feminism. When I started dreaming about living in an airstream, in the mountains, not tied down to anything. When I first learned of the American Southwest. And, when I decided, that one day I would blow up a dam. I was fifteen years old when I first read The Monkey Wrench Gang.
Read moreRemember, It's Not All About the Fish
*Not a picture of a fish
When you're staring at a computer screen for multiple hours straight you begin to get dull ache behind eyes that are strained and on the verge of crossing. I had just reached that point. January 2017, sub-folder, Davidson, sub-folder, 1-23-17; then on to 2016, 2015, and so forth. Some part of me had no idea how many photographs I had acquired over the years, another part was fully aware, which is why I'd been putting this project off for so long.
I was asked by the Carolina Cane Gathering to give a talk on photography and fly fishing, and I needed to pull all my thoughts together in a visually interesting way. Look for triangles. Avoid direct sunlight; remember, all things on the river are reflective. Don't hold a tout with dry hands. Don't hold a trout with gloved hands. "Banking" fish is bad. Etc, etc, etc...
Remember, it's not all about the fish.
Read moreMy Story
When I was young, very young I had a unique soap set for bath time. The bars were in the shapes of different endangered species around the world. It was produced by the World Wildlife Federation to help get kids interested in animals, the environment, etc...
This is my first memory of conservation.
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