GUIDE SHACK

gettingoutdoors:

VAGABOND

There is a certain romance to packing up and just driving to try, if only for a moment, and live off the grid. For seven years we have loaded up and headed west to Colorado. Part of the time we host a trip with some of our clients and the rest is left to our own adventure. I crave this time every year. This time, I have to admit, I was a little less than enthusiastic. A departure from our norm of camping along the way in places where cell towers and wifi have not reached yet. Also, a little shorter time trying to squeeze in between kids’ summer camps.

But, when I’m with my pack of humans just a little out of reach from the rest of the world, it’s magic. The load is lighter. We reconnect.

So, the Yampa was rolling high and dirty. The Captain needed to test a section to see if it was a viable option for clients. He didn’t have to ask me twice. I was in. And the kids were down for a good raft.

Let’s talk about expectations. A little bonus guide tip that can also be applied to traveling with kids or just life in general. Make sure what you expect as a guide and what your clients are looking to experience are in alignment and realistic. I knew that conditions on the river were extra tough, so I really did not expect much of anything in the way of fishing. It was going to be extra technical. I also knew that when we are traveling with kids, even though they are getting older, it’s more about them. That being said. I absolutely love a challenge. One fish caught in a tough scenario, is much more satisfying to me than tons of fish that come easily.

I knew that if I had any chance of a fish, my cast needed to be accurate. No time for mess ups. (Confession: I did have one tangle at the beginning). My favorite guide got me on a good drift in spite of these conditions, and I hooked up a nice rainbow. My excitement was equal to that of the double rainbow (not fish) guy on youtube (google it). I don’t always get shots of me with fish. There are some trips that there is no photographic evidence that I was even present — just word of mouth.

But this year, Little Miss has gotten into photography. She immediately grabbed my camera. Little Man came tripping over seats and bags from the other end as I was in the middle of my dance with the fish—letting it run then pulling up when I had a window. He was hoping to release the fish. The one shot we have, he has just fallen flat on his face. We are both telling him that he can release the next one which ended up being a nice little brown.

There was minimal fishing for the babes due to conditions. Back to expectations. They were made aware at the beginning and it made the day much smoother.

Normally, these days, I spend some time on the oars. Usually, we have the drift boat (which I now call mine). I have not rowed a raft unless you count numerous rafting trips with a guide and everyone gets a paddle. (I do really think I helped the guide on a few of my raft trips.) Anyway, I have felt a little beaten up by our homewaters in Arkansas. All are tailwaters and we have gotten incredible amounts of rain. The days that I have been able to get on the water have not been the greatest for my little drift boat without an engine. Needless to say, I was a little hesitant to row a large raft in high, fast, new-to-me water. But, I had an excellent instructor who helped me successfully navigate through some rough water. What a rush!

Our day turned stormy. On a side note, it had rained the day before. I had picked up a book, Into the Raging Sea, at this quaint little indie bookstore. (Yes, they serve lattes, and yes, I did partake.) The book was about the sinking of El Faro in 2015. It has been awhile since I lost myself in a book. I devoured this one. This was fresh on my mind as we found ourselves surrounded on all sides with thunder and lightning without a soul in sight. (We never saw anyone else that entire trip). Never take for granted the power of weather and water. I know we weren’t at sea in a hurricane, but my mind was running wild—complete with a helicopter rescue. Oddly enough, this circle of sunlight stayed with us for the rest of our float as we watched the storm around us. It was beautiful.

Every year, our pack has a song. This year was an album from Caamp. One song in particular, Vagabond, came to the forefront of our journey. It captures this spirit, this quest for adventure, this yearning to break away from the norm, from the mundane.

“In the night while my body slept in my bed
My mind was running through the woods instead One hundred miles an hour in the fast lane
One hundred miles an hour in my head.

Vagabond dreamin’ takes me through the night Sippin’ whiskey by the river living out of sight One hundred miles an hour in the fast lane One hundred miles an hour to the light.”

Ok, ok. So more like sippin’ Capri Suns with no added sugar. Here’s to many more adventures,

Kati

gettingoutdoors:

Today is our 19th anniversary. I wrote this weeks after our house was hit directly by a tornado. I thought today would be a good day to share it…

It’ll Be Alright 

I know I’m not alone when I say it’s been a different year—somewhat of a crazy wild ride where we don’t know what lies around the corner. In different ways so many of us are under unimaginable stress. I can’t even begin to get my head around what those on the front lines are experiencing. And those who are under such financial strain unable to work. 

I’m driving to the river late this afternoon to fish with Jamie. This is the first time I’ve been able to pause in a while and I realized it’s also the first time back on the water in what seems like forever. I also realize I’ve probably eaten a few too many Twizzlers through the course of this pandemic. I’ve had to put my guide dreams aside for a moment and be a semi homeschool teacher and continue to operate our guide service. 

As I get to the boat ramp, I am actually a little giddy. I take in the fall hues—glowing in the perfect late afternoon light. It truly is the golden hour. Jamie is already at the boat ramp. He has just finished up his guide trip and is meeting Andy, the photographer for Fayettechill who will join us today. We chat a little and then get moving since there is not a lot of light left. I back the boat in the water in a reasonable amount of time. I still get really proud of myself that I can do it now. 

As we motor to where we will start the float, I get lost in my thoughts. I’m so intrigued with the healing powers of water, the soothing sound as it moves with the boat, how it swirls. I get a glimpse of what lies beneath the surface—amazed at this other world teeming with life. These quiet moments on the water are so powerful, giving me perspective. 

Jamie shifts to the oars and I cast my rod—not too shabby even though it’s been a minute. I cast a little more than usual —getting lost in the rhythm and back to my thoughts. The last few months have been a whirlwind. 

On September 1 late afternoon Jamie was at the house with our three dogs and cat when a tornado dropped down the river bluff and made a beeline for our house. It was a direct hit. We live in the river valley, surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of tall trees. Hundreds of our massive trees were snapped like matchsticks falling on and through our roof. Jamie somehow managed to get all the dogs into the laundry room, the only room without windows. Our 14 year old lab, Gus, has trouble with the garage stairs which lead to a safer space. Jamie could hear it coming and managed to close the garage door just as it had arrived at our house bowing the door. He dove into a crawlspace, holding onto the piling for what seemed like an eternity, not knowing whether he would make it or even if the house would still be standing. 

I had gone up the mountain hours earlier to my parents’ house to use their wifi for virtual school for the kids. I managed to get a call through to Jamie to see if our wifi was back. He told me the house had been hit. For a second I thought he was kidding. I quickly realized this was for real and also he was in shock. For the first time ever I called 911.

It was hours before I could get there with the kids. I was standing at the top of our neighborhood about a mile from our house trying to get messages through to Jamie to make sure he was ok. Coverage was spotty. I was getting information indirectly through others that Jamie and the dogs were ok, but Tiger the cat was still missing. 

First responders got there on foot, climbing over trees, etc. The road was impassable and it took awhile to get just a narrow lane open to our neighbors’ house. It would be longer to get to our house and beyond. I finally pushed through and walked with the kids the mile to our house not knowing what we would see. My neighbor spotted us and directed our path to Jamie, who was standing near his truck in the middle of our property looking dazed and still worried about not finding the cat. I immediately started searching with the kids and thinking about where he would go. I determined he had to be under the house. I slithered back to the far corner where I found him and pulled him out—untouched but traumatized. 

The days that followed were exhausting. We were there from sun up to sun down trying to save our house. Subsequent rains came and poured in through the chimney, through broken windows and holes in the roof. It was hard to get tarps on our incredibly tall peak to keep more water from coming in. We were overcome with emotion and being overwhelmed by it all. We took turns holding each other up, but at times we would both break down simultaneously… 

I land a rainbow. Even though they are more plentiful and not as elusive as our wild brown trout, I still get excited. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect evening, the perfect balance of conversation, comfortable silence, tying of knots and bending of rods… 

It has been months of cutting, removing and burning debris and living in a camper as we rebuild. As devastating as it was and is, I know we are incredibly lucky. Had we not had this huge steel I-beam that spans the peak of our house, it may have been a different story. Our house would surely have been flattened and I’m not sure what would have happened to Jamie and our four- legged family members. I don’t want to think what would have happened. 

In all of this I am thankful. This is one of those defining moments in life that has deepened our connection, deepened my compassion. Until you experience something so profound, you never realize how these events impact lives long after the storm. 

As we drift along taking turns at bat and on the oars, I think about how the river connects us all. I also think about how I don’t need to eat as many Twizzlers. And I really think about how I need to get on the water more. We will rebuild. We will help save what we can and replant what we lose. Our watershed will heal and thrive again. I don’t have to be physically on it all the time.

Our little excursion ended with me being able to snag one of those beautiful browns. It’s always exhilarating to feel that strong tug on the line. To give a little and let it run balanced with pulling a little line and then a little more until finally, hopefully, you have that moment of seeing it in the net and then ultimately, releasing it back to that other world. I got my moment. 

As we approached the boat ramp to take out, the light had left us. We parted ways and I left feeling somewhat lighter, energized. I have a little guilty pleasure of drinking lattes and listening to the coffee house on satellite radio. One song, It’ll Be Alright by J.J. Heller keeps replaying and the words ring true for me. 

“We’ve seen the waters rise 

We’ve lived through desperate times 

We’ve built it all and watched it fall down 

Right before our eyes 

And we’re still here. 

As long as I’m breathing 

I’m never leaving 

I’ll hold you in the dark or daylight 

I love you 

It’ll be alright.”

Insta: @gettingoutdoors Photos: Andy Chasteen Insta: @andychasteen

2020 is off to a great start! 

Will and Mason put on a clinic the other day while on break from @auburnuniversity. Fun fact: Will’s dad was in @gettingoutdoors and my wedding.