Click here to view parts I & II of this III part series.

It didn’t take me long to realized that I was in essence “bottling” the experiences of my days on the water. Planted in front of my computer at home, I could immerse myself  in those images and feel as if my feet were back in the river. Only now the tempo could slow, my eyes could wander and explore intricate details without the urgency to quickly release the fish. I began to see particular things in those images of trout that I had not even noticed at the time I took the shots. The closer I analyzed the images on screen, the more incredible aspects I began to discover. With each batch of images I studied, more and more things became apparent for me to look for and reveal while taking future images. It became an addictive cycle of catching fish, shooting images, then studying and refining the results. Soon I had doubled my time on the water and tripled the enjoyment. Holding the camera became just as much fun as holding the fly rod, and clicking the mouse during the editing stage became equally as fulfilling. The experience of catching a fish was multiplied by 3, and the act of taking an image morphed into two separate events; the actual shooting in the field and the inspection, selection, and editing process of post. Over time techniques I’d learned from post-processing allowed me to dig back over years and thousands of images to “mine” gold from shots I’d previously overlooked. All new features and subjects I’d not seen or known how to reveal were now available with the creative control I’d discovered.  I felt like a junkie who had just discovered a way to triple his high, and it never got old.

To this day I can still gaze into these images for hours as my eyes explore the unique subtleties and terrain of each shot. Now when I hold a camera in one hand and a fish in another, I look for reflections on the fish, texture of the water, details in the fins or settings to emphasize the light. Thousands of hours clicking the mouse have taught me foresight to shoot images with settings I know will provide wide creative latitude in post editing. For me something so simple as fish photography has turned into more than a pleasure, it’s another trip to paradise. It’s time travel.

Read Part I of this III part series here.

It didn’t take long for me to want better images of  those sacred fish. By 2003 the digital point & shoot cameras that I could afford were getting very good. I found myself pushing the cameras closer and closer to the fish in a search to see more. The local fisheries in my area were consistently loaning me gorgeous trout to photograph, and I began paying closer attention to the buttons I was using and order in which I pushed them. Manual settings and less traditional angles and perspectives became a playground. I didn’t have much time to fish, so my days wearing waders were precious, and the stunning fish that made their way into my net became individual icons representing my developing passion for trout fishing.

As most fishermen with fanatical passion for fishing do, I’d struggle to contain my rush to get to the river. Loading the truck with gear and equipment became frantic. Tossing a careless mash of food and beverage into the cooler, only concerned if it’s enough nourishment to stay alive. Jamming gears and changing lanes from freeways to byways. Swerving into small town mini marts for fuel, I’d find myself briskly walking then bouncing into a trot headed for the beer cooler and ice machine. Topped off and not a care in the world, elbows are up and eyes perked approaching the river. I had noted this visible characteristic, observing the demeanor and body language of people heading in to the river versus those headed out on their way home. Soft necks, weary eyes, and sagging shoulders on the folks headed home each dusk. Then one July evening while heading home after an especially productive day of fishing and photography, I found myself jamming to get home as well. I was hammered and weary from chasing after fish sun up to sun down. My eyes were burning from scanning the glassy water for subtle rises forms and tracking sparse dry flies in the dry desert air. I’d had the pleasure that day of peering through my camera, adjusting and tweaking hundreds of shots of many stunning trout. I could not wait to get home, to trade the cork grip for the computer mouse, to explore and re-live what I had experienced that day. I could not wait to discover new layers of photographic art on my computer’s screen.
Part III here.

part III