The fog slowly lifts and the only sound is the murmur of the big river against the hull and the occasional quiet splash of an oar blade. This place is both mysterious and full of possibility.
Wandering these waters and being in this stillness embodies an emptiness of expectation and anticipation of good things unknown. A feeling of being physically and mentally lost. It’s clear, though no one speaks, we are searching for something.
This is big fish water. A river lost in time, overlooked by the hatcheries, but still degraded by extraction and greed. Nothing is safe. It seems that nothing is sacred anymore. But the power of the place is still palpable.
Wandering these waters and being in this stillness embodies an emptiness of expectation and anticipation of good things unknown. A feeling of being physically and mentally lost. It’s clear, though no one speaks, we are searching for something.
This is big fish water. A river lost in time, overlooked by the hatcheries, but still degraded by extraction and greed. Nothing is safe. It seems that nothing is sacred anymore. But the power of the place is still palpable.
If you listen closely, every river within hundreds of miles tells a story of something that was once full of promise and amazement but has been subject to degradation.
We are steelheaders of the new breed. We fish for crumbs, but we have all been touched by these incredible seagoing trout. We return to the river in hopes of experiencing first hand the fish that fuels our other passion. Working to protect what we have and restore at least some of what we’ve lost.
Through activism, outspoken awareness, and everyday choices, we all hope to make a difference for the better. Some of us even have chosen jobs that focus on restoring health to our watersheds. There are big wins and tough losses. There are days when it seems like our efforts are futile. But there are days when hope and faith are renewed. Yesterday was one of those days.
We are steelheaders of the new breed. We fish for crumbs, but we have all been touched by these incredible seagoing trout. We return to the river in hopes of experiencing first hand the fish that fuels our other passion. Working to protect what we have and restore at least some of what we’ve lost.
Through activism, outspoken awareness, and everyday choices, we all hope to make a difference for the better. Some of us even have chosen jobs that focus on restoring health to our watersheds. There are big wins and tough losses. There are days when it seems like our efforts are futile. But there are days when hope and faith are renewed. Yesterday was one of those days.
Take Care and Fish On,
Matt
PS – It's a double post this week. Here on Steel, where my friend Mike has graciously invited me to share some of my thoughts and words, and also over at the usual spot on Sexyloops.com. Most importantly, many thanks to Anna and Mel for your powerful words that inspired and built the FP this week.
