Originally written in 2020 following a spring float on Montana’s Smith River, this story was first published in print in Fly Fusion Magazine and has never appeared here on my blog.
Definition of an Adventure
Define the word adventure and you will most likely come up with many thoughts and opinions. Risky, extreme, difficult or even life-threatening might come to mind.
I have been lucky—and unlucky—enough to have been part of many adventures over my professional photography career. Those adventures have come with varying levels of risk, excitement and even danger. Everything from extreme conditions to challenging travel, difficult language barriers and near-death experiences.
I have had altitude sickness at 15,000 feet in Peru. I have been bitten by a poisonous spider and visited what felt like almost every hospital around Italy. I have had a friend nearly die in Greece from an incredibly rare disease. I have experienced scary helicopter rides, plane rides, bacterial stomach infections and split-second decision-making, all while traveling outside my comfort zone into risky, adverse and sometimes frightening situations.
This is how I had always defined my own adventures. I had never had an adventure that wasn't challenging or adverse.
After my trip on the Smith River with a group of eight incredible women, I had to ask myself: Was this an adventure? Was it risky enough? Was it dangerous enough?
I had a hard time putting together my thoughts and ideas. Was there a story in this trip?
Eight women floating the Smith River, fly fishing and camping during a time of COVID fatigue and uncertainty. A float trip that would turn out to be one of the most seamless, easy and calming trips I had ever experienced.
As we pulled up to the boat ramp, we lined the launch with all our gear and rafts. Dry bags, food, fly rods, firewood, water and more—it was like a game of Tetris, trying to figure out what fit where and how to get everything loaded and lashed down.
I didn't know all of the women in the group, but after a quick COVID “elbow handshake,” everyone seemed to find their unspoken tasks. We worked together loading the rafts, packing the food and securing the fly rods.
After a quick briefing from our park ranger about the dangers of the high water, we launched our rafts one by one. Women could be heard howling and screaming in excitement as they paddled downriver, floating away from all the world's problems.
We floated through cascading canyons of red rock. We fished murky, fast-flowing water, catching trout here and there. We feasted like queens, danced in the rain with glow sticks as jewelry, and laughed well into nightfall while enjoying warm, crackling campfires and great camp stories.
We fell asleep to rain gently falling on our tents. We hid from a hailstorm and enjoyed the moments of sun that slightly warmed our days.
I don't remember ever feeling too cold or too tired during the Smith River float. What I remember is a sense of calm and peace—with, of course, a bit of hooting and hollering mixed in.
It was a chance to take a deep breath, close our eyes and be grateful for our beautiful surroundings while taking in everything Big Sky Country had to offer.
This trip would redefine my idea of adventure and open my eyes to a new understanding.
A trip doesn't have to be difficult to be an adventure.
Having had so many opportunities to document special trips in remote places, I am incredibly grateful for all the adventures I have experienced. But having the chance to laugh and relax, spend time with incredible women, and be immersed in nature was exactly the adventure we all needed.
I will forever be grateful to have spent that time with the women on the Smith River.
