Low resolution

Twenty-sixteen is just around the corner and I've decided I'm going to get a fishing license for the new year. Will I make fly fishing a priority? I sure hope I do.

Taking time off from work isn't too much of  problem; I'm perpetually behind and no amount of foregoing vacation time has ever been able to change that. I have all the necessary gear and need only spend some time lining my reels and getting everything packed. The nearest trout water - a lake - is about an hour away. The nearest coldwater streams are about 2 or 3 hours.

But getting away to fish is still always so much easier said than done. I'm fortunate in that I have a few different interests, but I almost invariably opt for the one that involves the most instant gratification. I can be on a decent mountain bike trail within 15 minutes, I can walk my dog into the desert right out the front door, and there's a Stratocaster and amp calling to me from the other room. After I've exhausted all of these hobbies (though I'm actually only good at the dog-walking one), there seems like too little time for road tripping. And I'm still inexplicably hung up on the fact that I used to be able to walk to a river full of American shad, Chinook salmon, and steelhead. Have I mentioned I don't really like driving?

Anyway, my perpetual New Year's resolution has long been to put work (the means) into the background of my life and focus more on having fun (the end). Maybe 2016 will be the year in which I actually succeed.

More non-fishing travels

My wife and I took our 20th anniversary trip earlier this year. We spent our honeymoon at Lee's Ferry and also returned for our 10th. Those two sentences explain why this isn't a fishing report, but I nevertheless thought I'd share a few photographs of this iconic destination.

I've been around horseshoe bend a bunch of times in a boat, but this trip was the first time I got to see it from the overlook.

For me, the Colorado River is an escape. For the owner of this rig, it's at least in part a workplace.

It was great to be here.

At least one of us did some wading. No trout were harmed.

AZ, not AK

I spent last summer in Anchorage. It didn't at that time warrant a mention here because I didn't wet a line once. Yes, two months in Alyeska, The Great Land, The Last Frontier - and I didn't manage to go fishing once.

To be fair, I was there primarily for work and secondarily for a singlespeed mountain bike race. I had no idea how I'd be able to get out and fish because I wouldn't have a car unless I rented one at my own (considerable) expense. Still, how could I go to Alaska and not fish?

I had an impressive gear pile built up before I left. I had waders and boots, a pack vest, a 10' 5-weight for big rainbows, and a 9' 8-weight for whatever salmon I could go for. I also had a considerable amount of bike-related gear, not to mention the enormous bike shipping box. Oh, and then there were the street clothes and the normal day-to-day things I'd need. There was just too much stuff, and the rod cases didn't even fit in my duffel. I kept reducing my gear, and the fishing tackle suffered the most in the culling. I ended up with only the pack vest, a super-compact 6-piece 4-weight with a diminutive reel, and a hat from my local fly shop.

As it turned out, work kept me pretty busy, and most of my free time was spent walking to and fro and riding my mountain bike around. I only rented a car for a short time, and it was used to do tourist things while my wife visited.

There were a few accessible streams in Anchorage and one was even along a bus route, but given that they were full of silver salmon, I felt my little reel would get spooled and that the 6-piece rod would quickly become a 12-piece. I suppose I could have gone after the Dolly Varden I was told were in some urban waters, but I just never got my shit together. I eventually shipped my fishing gear home early to make more room in my luggage for souvenirs.

What's worse from the frustrated angler point of view is that my employer offered me a permanent transfer to Anchorage. For many reasons not related to fishing, I respectfully declined. I was approached again months after returning to the Old Pueblo and this time, I was a bit more reluctant to turn it down. Unfortunately, and knowing my decision would haunt me, I declined for a second time.

And that's how this blog almost came to be called Bosque con Truchas.

I cannot complain about the trails I got to ride but damn, I think I will always regret not fishing that stream back there.