I have a guilty pleasure, here in the Methow Valley, I call it backcountry instant gratification.  Let me tell you about it.

There are a handful of little lakes that are relatively easy to get in and out of in a matter of hours and on days when I set out to be at work in the studio…but the work just won’t stick…or I realize after a few hours that I don’t actually want to be there and I need to be outside instead…I can start out as late as 2PM, head for one of these trailheads, charge the path into the lake, fish for an hour or two, and be home again before dark.  I call this kind of backcountry excursion instant gratification because for just a little work, a little sweat, a little steep hiking, I can have an alpine lake in the high country all to myself and thereby the space I need to breathe again.

It’s a little miracle.

Yesterday, around 2PM, I realized I needed to go fishing.  I mean…I really needed to go fishing.  I popped a bag and fly rod in the truck, loaded all three pups, grabbed a snack out of the mess hall kitchen at the base and headed up and out to a trailhead where I shouldered my pack and whistled as I walked up to one of my favorite instant gratification lakes in the North Cascades.  I fished for an hour and a half or so, caught 27 beautiful little cutthroat trout, threw sticks for the dogs, listened to the birds, felt the sun on my skin and rested.  Then I shouldered my pack, pointed the dogs for home, picked a few mushrooms and made my way down the mountain again while singing the full score of the “Sound of Music” — I noticed a lot of fresh bear sign on my way in and wanted them to know I was coming.

Work is good, but play is good too…and sometimes work is play but let’s keep things simple here.  Yesterday was a play day for me and I don’t regret a moment of it.  In the studio, I am bare rooted right now.  I catch glimpses of inspiration but haven’t been able to slow down enough, post-relocation, to really delve into any ideas.  I have a last minute photo shoot to take care of tomorrow, a portrait shoot on Sunday evening, friends coming to town in the early part of next week and there is also the slight unsteadiness that comes with the fire season and never really knowing if I’ll see Robert at the end of the day or not weighs on me a little, as it always does.

After yesterday’s instant gratification excursion, I’m feeling more grounded and it’s not surprising.  I have always found that tethering myself to my surroundings, establishing myself in my new habitat, going out and reintroducing myself to the land is the best way for me to settle into life again after an upheaval.

Now let’s talk fish.  Aren’t those native cutthroat gorgeous?  What sublime colors.  I take great delight in catching large fish on the fly but there’s something so tenacious, wild and glorious about catching alpine trout.  They fight terribly hard (despite their diminutive size), take to the sky in righteous acrobatics and the way they take a fly in the first place is such a tiny, vicious and joyful movement on their part.  These guys look small and cute but they are total killers.

They’re little, but I feel such a profound, lightning tug on the end of my line when these fish take a fly in their teeth.  I find myself laughing aloud and smiling constantly while I’m fishing for them.  Their joy, freedom, fire and wildness is contagious.  Being connected to them through a long, thin line is positively electric — I know their small, important power, if only for a little while.  It’s an honor.

It was hard to leave that lake yesterday.  I kept telling myself, “Just one more.”