Happy October, my friends. I am in the middle of feakin’ nowhere this week but, I’m sure that is starting to sound like a familiar condition whenever you think of me.

I’m so damned & determined to get this newsletter out every week from now on and, unfortunately that means that in order to hit that target, some weeks will require a little less time & attention on my part. I’m extremely busy, working in the arctic for a few weeks and relying on my shadow career to earn a large sum of quick capital. In order to push onwards with our aggressive goal to be hosting trips as a full-time and primary source of our income by 2028, Sugarfoot and I are working hard to build the foundation for this launchpad in many different capacities.

We are putting every dollar we have into this venture and we’re selling off anything that isn’t actively supporting this effort to generate more liquidity to operate on. Additionally, we’re both utilizing every spare moment we have to earn more income, utilizing our skills from past careers. We’ll continue on like this, busy as all Hell, until we’ve got the ground covered to take off from.

Due to all this craziness, I’m grinding hard in the arctic for 14 hours a day right now, which doesn’t leave much time for my work here. As a result, I’m hitting you guys with some recycled material this week. If you haven’t read these three short pieces, I hope they captivate you to some degree. If you’re seeing them for a second time, apologies but, I hope they’ll serve you better than whatever rerun you might be watching on TBS instead.

Enjoy.

P.S. One last quick update: I’ve been working to build this site up to its deserved glory and I will continue to do so however, I’m not very impressed with this platform’s interface to blog from and I’ve decided to move this newsletter to Substack. While Authentically Wild Out West will still feature much of my long form writing and of course, all the details about my fly fishing programs and photography services, the weekly newsletter is heading to place where being able to handle this task weekly is much smoother and more fluid. That being said, there’s nothing you need to do to stay in the loop, other than to continue visiting me here to review my content and, to keep an eye out for the BAC newsletter being delivered to your inbox from a Substack address instead of a WordPress host. I will import my subscriber list and the newsletter will continue to be sent to your inbox weekly. Thanks so much for your support, I love you all.

Only This Far?  

One of my favorite thought-leaders of our time often speaks about adversity as if it were sentient in its own form of being. Suffering, obstacles, set backs… they all culminate into this nameless, faceless force perpetually working to thwart your efforts and initiatives for the future. He speaks about this wicked antagonist as if it is some type of hidden yet, profoundly impactful and far reaching cabal of ill-willed bullies, who spend every waking moment conceiving new methods of holding him back or slowing him down. He insists that the reason we call defeat, inconveniences and disastrous events in our timeline “challenges” is because that’s exactly what they are; a gesture of challenge from a universe geared towards exploiting your shortcomings. Each wrench thrown into your fan blades is another “let’s see if you can overcome this one, Tough Guy” spouted by a malicious force determined to see you fail.

In recent years, I can’t help but agree. Sometimes it feels like this world is more of a construct than a range and it’s specifically designed to work in a methodic manner; with drones duplicated in mass to efficiently power the machine towards an end. It feels like any drone who steps out of the production line isn’t necessarily punished; however, they face perpetual resistance against their rogue agenda of free will and an unsanctioned version of existence. Off the supplied, groomed and well-beaten path, these defectors who wish for a better life find themselves climbing a mountain. A steep, treacherous incline in the wild, where predators and hazards await and anticipate each step you take. Perpetual pushback, chronic hardship and a tumultuous call to return to the safety of the masses. That is the reality of stepping out from under the umbrella of a normal life. It’s hard all the damn time.

Now, more challenges lay ahead. Big ones. I’m at my computer scraping the walls of every chasm I can recall that might have a solution. I haven’t found one yet.

I will.

When I doubt that, I remember the words of my favorite pastor and I thank God for him. Then, I speak my own resolution.

“I didn’t come this far, only to come this far.”

Perserverance

“Maybe it’s not gonna happen today.”

Alix had worked tirelessly all year to organize and plan this trip, for her and a very large group of her sisters. Part of an organization dedicated to bringing women together through fly fishing, Alix stepped up last winter to take point on arranging all the travel plans and logistics for her group’s visit to the wild Rocky Mountain West. I can only imagine how she might have felt this morning, stepping into the CaddisLack, and perceiving her work to finally be over, and that the time for reward had come.

I wish I could report she had been harboring the correct assumption. Unfortunately, this river is volatile in that manner. Some days it produces by the bushel but, on other days….

It’s a cruel, desolate, and horrifically cold bitch. She’ll eat 5000 oar strokes and smile in response to the taste of your tears.

Alix worked her ass off for 98% of the section without touching a fish. A few opportunities were missed and a few sets evaded my net but, it was just as I was consoling myself, admitting defeat and acknowledging that “maybe it’s not gonna happen today,” when she stubbornly resolved to stick with it until the end. 200 yards above the ramp she was able to wrangle this stud to the boat. It marked the 4th PB in my CaddisLack in the last 7 days.

Alix, I’m so frickin’ proud of you. Good job, gurl.

To all my new anglers coming to visit this season; I hope that when you come, you come to work. If you do, I promise I will be right behind you and on the oars, until we find you that victory you’ve worked so hard for. I’m already looking forward to fishing with you.

Normal, Everyday Heroes.

It wasn’t the politician I voted for, the professional athlete I idolized, or the idealist podcaster I most identified with who directly impacted my life. It wasn’t a Kardashian, or Kennedy, or any of the other pandering personalities on television who struggled for hours to keep me alive while saws and jaws were pealing my car away one layer at a time. It wasn’t the spokesperson for any cultural reform group, it wasn’t a heart-throb actor and, it wasn’t a YouTube personality who pieced me back together.

At the end of the day, the people who deserve my admiration more than any others, were my neighbors. The commuter who stopped and called for help. The officers who responded to control the scene. The firefighters who labored to extract me. The medics who refused to let me die and the pilots who flew in inclement, December weather. The trauma surgeons and nurses who pumped life back into me. The physical and neurological therapists who taught me to walk again. The CNAs who tended to my recovery for two long months.

All normal, everyday people. People who stepped up and worked hard. People who perform with that type of excellence and dedication, throughout long shifts, day-in and day-out.

In conclusion; I have no use for celebrities, or professional athletes, or politicians. Those fools are societal leaches, thriving on ignorant, willing hosts. Instead, my admiration is reserved for the soldier, the blue collar tradesmen and, the first responders. The ranchers, the small business owners and, the public facilities workers. The people who make a difference, without spectacle. All day, everyday.

Thanks folks.