Lugging a giant camera lens/camera/monopod down the trail into Waterton Canyon yesterday afternoon, I was approached by a young lady. She asked if I was a photographer and if I could help her. She was working on a school project and needed to get images of conservation in action…or not in action :( What an interesting project, to either be able to provide positive insights or negative ones, and perhaps push for action in a place that needs it.
This really got me thinking about what we every time we go outside to recreate. Are we apart of the conservation story in a positive way…or a negative way?
This immediately took me back to Labor Day weekend and what we saw happen on the South Platte.
We arrived early to fish, this was going to Brandy’s first fly-sighing outing and we were all excited. The river was flowing, but safe to wade…the sky was blue and it was going to be a great day. Fingers crossed, Brandy or Harper would land their first trout on a fly today.
It didn’t take long for people to start showing up to our little honey hole. In fact there was droves of people pulling into the small pull off. Cars kept pulling in, and people seemed to appear out of no where. Walking all over the river banks, setting up tables, canopies and gearing up for Labor Day fun on the South Platte.
At first I wasn’t phased at all by the commotion and amount of people. This is a public place, it’s not my river. I want people to enjoy the resource and appreciate it as we do.
…but then things changed. While changing up my fly rig, I was approached by a man on the bank. He said “when are you leaving?” I have to had looked completely dumbfounded, because he said it again but with some oomph this time. I asked him if they were looking for a place to fish, and he said “NO, we are wanting to picnic.” I told him there are lots of great places to do that, and didn’t matter when we left… He walked off slowly, like he was mad my family and I were in his spot, and should have know better.
Fast forward a little bit, maybe 20 minutes him and his crew of male family members started to hover in the bushes about 20 feet from us. I did’t pay much attention at first but then I realized these people are not going to find a new place to picnic…they wanted this spot and they wanted it pretty badly.
Brandy got a solid snag on the floss worm she was dead drifting and she needed some help getting free, so I waded over and took the rod. I ended up snapping the lower butt section I was pulling so hard. Which made no sense that it would have broken that far down when the tip and middle tip sections are waaaaay more delicate. I digress.
Breaking the rod quickly started a little fire in my gut, and I was getting pissed off…for one this family was hovering like flies on you know what, and I just broke an expensive piece of gear. So we called it and started to pack up.
The flies immediately jumped into the vacant water we climbed out of and started to enjoy the day in the way they had planned. We drove off and we talked about the events and the rod and laughed about it all…
About two weeks go by and Harper and I head over to our little spot, can’t say honey hole now it’s a popular retreat for families wanting to hover I guess.
I start to fish and Harper starts to explore the shoreline for bugs and stones. What she found next really made us sick. Tucked deep in some bushes off the shore, was a ton of trash, a pan, feces, toilet paper, cooking utensils…all picnic type items left behind, thrown in the bushes for the animals to dig through, and someone else to pick up.
Harper and I are going back next week to clean up the river we love and cherish. It’s a resource that has a breaking point, it can’t sustain abuse and neither can the wild animals that live there.
We have a footprint, and no matter what we need to take care of our planet to the best of our ability. Pack it in and pack it out…
