Until the Pavement Ended

Foros, Ukraine - I remember my dad taking me and my siblings fishing at an early age, maybe 6 or 7. Venturing out into the wilderness of Teton Valley, we’d drive for what seemed like forever down winding roads, through valleys, over mountain passes, until the pavement ended. The sound of gravel crunching beneath our tires was an indicator that we were almost there. Soon after, he’d pull over and we’d rush out, running about like feral children.

Following him to the creek, we’d grab the night crawlers that he’d purchased at the gas station, giggling and squirming as we slid the worms onto the hook. Whether or not we caught anything is up for debate, but I'm pretty sure we all had a good time. I don’t think I’ve fished since that age, however I still look back fondly at those times spent sitting in the grass next to a fishing hole, waiting for the bobber to disappear below the surface.

While in Ukraine, I watched this man participate in a similar ritual. There weren’t any bobbers or kids running around, but It seemed to be all the same.

The Great Salmon Adventure

In 2011, Luke Nelson and Ty Draney ran over a hundred mile length of the salmon river in the remote Frank Church wilderness area. Luke, a friend from college, asked me to come shoot photos and I eagerly agreed to it. We packed up, and drove north, stopping in a town so the two could eat some giant hamburgers, carbo-loading for their "fun run" the following day. We picked a spot at the beginning of the course to crash, while Luke and Ty ran over gear. Between the two of them, they were packing a Spot Tracker, which is a device that allows them to send out texts, as well as allowing others to follow them via GPS. The only problem is that it's one-way communication, meaning they can send out texts as well as their GPS location, but can't receive any, nor can they see where they are. Accompanied with a map, and enough food for about 24 hours, they set out early the next morning. Their quiet footsteps slowly fading into the distance was an indicator that I needed to start my 3 hour drive to find a trailhead where I would hike in from the following morning.

The next day, I woke up at 3 and set out, holding a monopod in one hand in case I was attacked by a bear. Running through the wilderness at 4 in the morning by yourself is a very interesting experience, jumping at every sound. Birds and bunnies turned into bears and cougars. After waiting for 13 hours in a location that I thought they would run through, I watched the sunset and decided to head back to the car.  Running back, I wondered If I had gone to the wrong location. I drove back to where I thought they would finish, thinking that they were waiting there without a ride, but when I showed up, they were no where to be seen. I camped close by, thinking they might show up at any point, but the next morning, when they still hadn't arrived, I set off up the canyon in search of the two.

After a couple hours, the trail disappeared, which left me wondering if I was even in the right canyon. I climbed halfway up the canyon wall to get a better view, and continued onward. An hour later, I saw them far down below in the river bottom, bushwhacking through thick brush. I shouted and started running down toward them, relieved that I had found them. I met up with the two survivors and found out that they had taken a couple wrong turns and were also concerned that they were in the wrong drainage. I gave them some much needed food and started heading toward the finish. When we got out of the canyon, we slowly crossed one last river, found the truck and plopped down, exhausted. Luke and Ty both completed their journey after more than 40 hours on the move. When we finally got cell phone service, I received Luke's text message from the day earlier saying "very lost getting serious more soon". As we drove away, I chuckled at the cryptic text that spawned several distraught messages from family members, relieved that we were all safe, ready for our next adventure.

The Harbor

Down near the pier, the sun is low on the horizon, its golden rays cut short by an approaching storm. Despite the inclement weather, the men working on the pier don’t hesitate. Father and son work together methodically prepping their boat to head out for the evening. They move about coiling ropes, shifting nets, transporting fuel, doing all that is necessary for their night on the ocean -- that great and dark expanse.

The father watches his son, correcting his mistakes as his father had done for him, hoping that his son will be able to do the same, knowing that a simple life can be a rewarding life, but like the evening sun on the horizon, the old ways are slowly setting. Light is disappearing, fading into the night as large commercial fishing vessels move in. Competition is fierce, overfishing is rampant, and savings are drying up.

Surly fishermen slowly walk along the docks, away from their boats after a cold night on the ocean. The sound of their heavy footsteps ring hollow on the old wooden planks.

The old way of life is dying. It is a shrinking culture, trying to stay relevant, grasping at the way things have always been, but failing to realize that they will never be. It’s a losing battle. As the years pass by, fishing villages become smaller. Boats sit on land, rotting. Fishing nets piled high lay stagnant, the smell of the ocean fading as the seasons wear on.

Lighthouses sit unused as stoic reminders of the past. The outsides kept clean and maintained for the photo opportunities of thousands of tourists, eager to depart the bus and stare from afar, but walking closer and peering inside, old desks can be seen gathering dust, while chipped and faded paint on the walls gives away its true age.

Meanwhile, the fishermen go on doing the only thing they know how to do. They put food on the table for their family and provide a roof over their head. Their happiness isn’t based on how much money they make, but on being able to provide the things in life that make them feel needed, loved.

As the sun rises the following morning, so do their hopes and dreams. The catch is fresh in their mind and as they return to rest in their beds, the mind takes over, wandering throughout time and space, thinking about the future and what it holds.