Lately I've been reminded why I love what I do.
After a three day stint chasing hidden falls, fjording raging swollen rivers, bushwacking through jungles, taking some devil's club in the face, sleeping in the back of my truck and eating fire-roasted McDonalds, I couldn't be more stoked on one of the most "unsuccessful," weekends in my photo career.
But with not one run made down what Fred Norquist and crew refer to as monster 'stouts,' It wasn't anything but pure thankfulness and warm fuzzy feelings for Washington all over again. With sketchy landings in shallow pools, low flow, or raging overflow, every potential drop the guys checked out just wasn't working out.
But if dedication was a rare jungle disease, just like the monkey from Outbreak, these guys caught it and made it spread. Bummer after bummer, smiles never left, and vengeful return was inspired at each failed mini-mission.
I realized on my way across Steven's Pass at 2:30 am that if the worst thing about the entire weekend was that I hiked to three of the most beautiful waterfalls I've ever seen, spotted a bear, caught the sunset ferry, ate some of the best pulled pork bbq known to man, and slept under more stars than I've seen my entire life, then it probably wasn't that bad of a weekend after all.
Here's to living each day as if it were your last, because some day that will be true.