Let’s take a step back away from fishing for a moment, please. That may be sacrilegious, coming from a magazine that is on its face wholly dedicated to fishing. I mean it’s called Reel Life for Pete’s sake, the pun couldn’t be any more fishing related. Consider the experiences that we add to our core memories from our passion for life outside the concrete jungle.
The sights and sounds of places we’ve just experienced for the first time. Those times with friends and family. The sometimes-trivial outings that we build into our routines because we are outdoorsmen and outdoorswomen at our core. Being present at those times is crucial to our ability to take a deep breath and hit the reset button.
One of the most scenic drives I have ever experienced came from a trip along the Beartooth Highway in the heart of the Custer National Forest. It is one of those winding, nauseating, fear of height inducing drives that really make you appreciate the work of engineers. The drive up the mountain is narrow. A two-lane highway with an unforgiving drop on one side of the road and an immovable rock face on the other.
It makes me wonder how folks drive campers, boats, or trailers up such a road. There are points along the drive where, if you’re on the outside lane, by peering out of the window, you’ll realize the full effect of the over 9,000-foot drop off the road, add another nearly 2,000 feet if you decide to get to the very top. It’s a road so treacherous, it is closed during the wintertime, and rightfully so.
In addition to these crystal-clear memories of peril, are the wondrous views that come from the observation point. The attraction looks around 360 degrees and has all the amenities you’d expect: a bathroom, parking, informational signs, and posters. But, more importantly, there are the sights. Mountains, that from below looked ominous, are now eye level and expansive. On a clear day, like the one we thankfully had when we made the journey, that allows you to see for miles.
The funny thing about being at the point is my lack of memory about the people or whatever else was going on. I know there were other cars in the parking lot and people walking around the trails, but I really can’t remember any of them. The calmness of the moment and realization of these breathtaking views is something I’ll keep with me. Even in these moments where modernization blends, crosses over, and cheapens the outdoor experience, it’s still easy to find ourselves appreciating what the outdoors can do for us.
Ok, let’s bring it back to fishing, just slightly. The Bighorn Canyon sits in the heart of the Crow Reservation in Montana’s eastern third of the state. The area is simply gorgeous. It doesn’t hurt that the area produces some of the highest quality trout you can find, as is the case in many of the Blue-Ribbon Montana waterways. For the hiking or ATV enthusiasts, you’ll want to stop at Pryor Mountain, as the Bighorn Canyon offers a few trails along the way, but the area primarily runs along the Bighorn River. A few fishing trips with a close friend of mine will always draw me back to the area and the peacefulness I experienced, with one memory, particularly in mind.
Did I mention the canyon is incredible? It really cannot be understated the jagged edges of the cliffs and the deep red colors slowly fading to a subtle yet muted granite. The water is a pristine blue. Seemingly untouched and calm as glass. We nearly had the canyon to ourselves except for a few families enjoying the day on the water and some kids fishing from the dock.
My buddy in fact complimented the kids on their small bucket of fish they had accumulated and in turn, they gave him the lure they’d been using. It was a fun little exchange and was nice to see that kids can still be thoughtful. And of course, we used the lure and caught some of our own! We put my boat in the water and didn’t travel too far from the dock, maybe a few hundred yards into a nice rocky hole that was loaded with bass.
We trolled around slowly to different bays within the river for a few hours and continued to pull out solid sized fish. The kind of fish that makes you appreciate being outdoors with a consistent bite and decent weight behind them. All the while, talking about work, family, plans, and all the other things you’d expect to visit about. It was a fishing trip I’ll remember fondly because of the time with a valued friend and the opportunity for breathtaking views. It was also memorable due to a trailer tire popping and me driving on the axle for who knows how many miles, but that’s a story for a different time.
Let’s not mistake the vivid memories from our time appreciating the tranquility of the outdoors as more meaningful than the opportunities outside we capitalize on through the routine of our lives. For me, those instances take shape in the form of an activity as easy as walking my dog. He’s a hunting dog by trade and at 7 years old is still full of energy and prey drive. Tracking anything and everything is still a large part of his world, even if the hunting season is a few short months. Those other 9 months of the year he’s relegated to leashed walks around the hardware store or some off-leash trails and parks around town. Taking the dog out for a walk is not unique or special.
Perhaps you reading this have a dog yourself. You probably do the same routine part of your day as I do mine. Get up, go to work, come home, spend time with your family, and take the dog on an evening walk. Rinse, repeat. I would challenge you to be present in those moments outside if you aren’t already. I’m guilty of putting on a podcast during a walk or listening to music like anybody else. But I’ve tried to make a habit of putting these things aside if I’ve got the opportunity. A leashed walk down the street? Fine, music’s not a big deal provided you’re on the sidewalk. The hardware store? Well, we’re here buying stuff so it’s not much of an outing for the dog, but it is a chance for socialization and to break up his day. What about a hike on a trail or a stroll on some public land?
Those are the outings I try to be cognizant of. Quiet. A passing hello to another person briefly, and then back to isolation. Although built into the day-to-day of everyday life, something as simple as a walk with the dog can bring a calmness and recognition for everything we experience beyond our home’s front door or the office. Why drown out the peaceful silence when in that moment?
