The importance of being alone

After nearly 12 months on the road in some capacity, we reluctantly returned to a stable living situation down here in Olympia.  Not to advance too far on the adulting spectrum, we also decided to add a four legged family member, as I'm sure anyone who follows my instagram stories can attest, to the mix.  If you don't do Instagram or to a lesser extent Facebook, where I am far less active, you're truly doing yourself a disservice by not fawning all over the adorableness that is, Birch, our seven and a half month old Australian Shepherd puppy.

This is Birch!

To be honest, reintegration has been every bit of the challenge I expected and more.  It's easy to think of this past year as travel and being on the go and all the associated excitement, but the true luxury of it all was total freedom.  I don't think we ever took that blessing for granted, but it's likely we couldn't possibly appreciate the enormity of that gift until it was no more.  Even being inside a house with the proverbial four walls felt foreign; couple that with the fact that we now have three bedrooms, two baths, and a garage- it was crazy!  Unfortunately, we didn't have much time to acclimate together as Shaun started back to work July 1st after we moved into our house on June 21st, and instead of spending our last few days soaking up long days in the mountains or on the river, we were trying to potty train a puppy- fun in its own way but certainly much different than our original expectations.  The perils of puppyhood consist of no sleep and constant worry that the puppy will have an accident in the house, and we won't even get into crate training, as that has been an utter nightmare (and for the record, no, I don't care what worked for your dog nor do I want to hear your thoughts- sorry, not sorry).  That aside, having Birch has been a delight, but it has definitely added another challenging element to our adjustment.

Puppies are work, but it's worth it

Getting the pup used to the trails 

Best buddy

Crate training in a nutshell

I figured out long ago that I need outside time to keep my sanity even under ideal circumstances.  When I was working, on my Thursdays off, it never failed I was ready to rise early and get outside, even in terrible weather (one of the reasons waterfall photography has become some important to me).  Taking advantage of weekday opportunities to find solitude is ever more important as the PNW population continues to balloon to unmanageable levels creating crowded roads, trailheads, and outdoor destinations.  There is no more "if there is traffic" verbiage, traffic is a certainty.  Think "death, taxes, and traffic."  My secret for the last few years has been modified from the "go early" moniker to the not for faint of heart "go earlier than everyone else", and while that has worked well for me, it is difficult to do when your husband is at work, your non crate-trained puppy is too small to do long hikes and/or the doggie daycare doesn't allow drop-off until 8 am.  And if any of you reading are thinking of saying "first world problems", kindly see yourselves out in 3,2... The lack of outdoor time was really starting to wear on me, and while we had been able to do short, puppy friendly hikes with Birch, being able to unplug and not worry about monitoring him in the heat or with elevation or carrying a bag of feces had eluded me.
One thing I've been working on as an area of personal growth is being able to identify my frustrations earlier and finding solutions to avoid feeling trapped or stuck or too overwhelmed.  As the days went by and I sat at home training the dog or taking short trips (at that point we were taking car rides slowly so he would get used to it gradually and be a better traveler in the long-run, which I am happy to report has worked wonderfully), I began to feel further and further from those freedom days of the last year and the discrepancy between my two lives continued to grow.  So much of my identity was wrapped up in that freedom and lack of attachment or permanency, and I was really struggling in my new life which offered a much smaller slice of those things.
As it happened, part of Birch's acclimation to doggie daycare included a few practice days to ensure he was comfortable before I started back to work August 5, so I ended up having a weekday where I dropped him off at 830 and was to pick him back up at 430 for his assessment day (they don't allow aggressive dogs at the farm).  It wasn't really enough time to go for a long hike (see traffic section above), but it was just enough time for me to drive up to Lake Cushman/Staircase and do a little solo fly fishing in the N Fork Skokomish.  I've been fly fishing for about two years and have caught a lot of fish (and lost even more), mostly because I've had an amazing, experienced, and patient teacher in Shaun.  I've learned so much from him, but you never really know until you're on your own, and I hadn't really ever done that because it's something we enjoy doing together.  Of course I would have enjoyed his company, but at the same time, I was really looking forward to going by myself.  So much of the last year has been teamwork, making decisions collectively, living in close proximity to another person when you are up, down, and everywhere in between.  I'd say though I'm a pretty expressive and opinionated person, those traits were muted somewhat (Shaun might say differently- ha) in the interest of team dynamic.  We shared some incredible days- scenery, animal sightings, solitude- but there is something to NOT sharing those things with another person that I had really been missing.  Why else would I get up at 2:30 AM to get to a trailhead at 5 AM when the sun is rising?  Another area where I've been working on myself however, is gratitude for adventures great and small, and although I would have preferred 10 miles or so in the alpine, this was the opportunity I had, and I was going to seize it and be grateful.
Dropped the pup off and hit the road, driving about an hour and 20 minutes and arriving to a nearly full parking lot (it's a small lot, maybe 12 cars).  The car next to me was a gentleman in his 50's who also had a fly rod, and while he didn't seem especially friendly (the old familiar PNW no eye contact or acknowledgement), he was nice enough when I mentioned to him that we had the same idea for how to enjoy the day.  He asked me if I had fished this area before, and I told him I had, gave him some info I had on some pocket water and wished him luck as I continued to set up my gear.  Truth be told, I was ready before him, but I figured since he was there first, I'd give him a head start.  It would also reduce the chance of him crowding me wherever I chose to fish.  People have different ideas of what is too close, and I knew I would be far more willing to leave a lot of space than most, so I decided to hang back for a few minutes.
I set off on the trail, admiring the old growth and the emerald colored water before reaching fishable water about 15 minutes into the walk.  Though it was a weekday and still fairly early at 10 am, I knew the swimming crowd would show up by the afternoon, so I kept walking for another 15 or 20 minutes, scouting the water for places fish could be holding.  Once I found a suitable spot, I strung up my fly rod and made a few casts with an orange stimulator pattern (recommended on a few forums recently) and had a couple of hits instantly (small fish, small mouths, big fly means they don't get it in their mouth, but still, it's action).  As weird as it sounds, I was just happy I had found fish.  I'm not immune to insecurity and self-doubt, especially when it's something I do alongside someone who is way more experienced than I.  Moving from pocket to pocket, I recalled in this kind of water, if the fishing goes cold in one spot, it's time to move to the next.  I changed flies a couple of times and eventually settled on a fly that I could see easily as I moved to a more turbulent pocket of turquoise surrounded by big boulders.  For the primary reason it was easy to see, and it was kind of lucky, (and the barb was already pinched), I chose a yellow sally.  Tied it on and on the second or third cast, a beautiful rainbow shot up from the depths of the pool and took the fly.  I was standing atop a big boulder so had to negotiate my way down from there to net the fish in a shallow area of the pool.  The fish on the N Fork Skokomish aren't known for being large, though there are some sizable ones to be found, but this guy was a nice 10-12" with beautiful coloring.  I admired him for a second and released him back to the deep!  Noting the time and the fact I still had a half hour walk ahead of me before going to get Birch, I decided to work my way back downstream, hitting a couple of holes where fish had missed on my fly earlier.  I stuck with the yellow sally and caught fish on three consecutive casts- smaller than the first one but still beautiful, the last one being the most ambitious as it couldn't have been more than five inches long.  Pleased with my day, I headed back on the trail and was at the car with just enough time to get back to the farm and pick up Birch.
It was a day I knew I needed, and in the spirit of being grateful, I was.  

Nice to have this access so close to home

Not a chance I'd fish this- the swimmers will be here soon

Walking through the old growth and ferns to go fishing is pretty special

Caught a fish out of here

Beautiful coloring on this rainbow

No swimmers up here