October is a wonderful month for a sportswoman. Hunting and fishing are at peak. The air is cooler, the dogs lift their heads, capturing scents, fish are eating in anticipation of winter.
Our favorite smaller river closes to fishing today, end of the month. We went out, for a last time this season, on Saturday. Casting to the foam, pondering whether to change from a soft hackle to a dry or nymph. There is a bittersweetness about the last time. An appreciation of all that the river gave to us this season. Some absolutely gorgeous fish, exciting falls while wading, cooling water during a hot day, moments where we realized no one in the world knew where we were. And the sadness that we will have to wait until the last weekend in May (in reality, much later due to run off) to return with a fly rod in hand.
The reality is we will return throughout the rest of fall and winter. Snowshoeing, back country skiing, walks with the dogs. And while we will not have a fly rod in hand, we will appreciate the fish, the beauty of the river, the sense that no one in the world knows where we are.
That is what being outside is, that sense of being awestruck at what nature gives you, realizing there is a high chance you'll fall into the river, your dogs will find some decomposing something that looks pretty gross, that the Monet painting you saw in the Metropolitan Museum of Art has nothing on the yellows, reds, greens, or stark branches of the trees in October.
This river is but one of thousands in the West. It's a small area, much of it on federal lands. People drive along the river to look at it's beauty every day. There are no oil rigs, not a lot of logging anymore, and few scattered small miners stubbornly asserting claims to minerals that don't exist anymore. It could get worse. Much worse. But I will continue to work on ensuring that the leaf peepers, the hunters, anglers, hikers, white water kayakers can find their place where no one knows where they are.
It's the end of the month. Tomorrow I will take the dogs out to walk along the river.