No Guts, No Glory
The Final West Coast Story
I visited a new state and started a new job — two fresh experiences for me.
Change is the only constant.
It’s ever-present, which is odd… because you think you’d get used to something that’s always in your life. “Change is hard” — the common phrase people reassure you with. But why is change so hard? Especially if we all know it’s inevitable to some degree?
It’s because you can never see it, truly, until you’re in it… and I’m talking about things that are brand new and largely intangible — not something you’ve encountered once or twice, something you’re “kind of” familiar with, or something like changing your wardrobe. You’ve got a baseline for those. They’re easier to visualize. I mean completely foreign.
You can know change is coming, but you simply can’t know what to expect. You can plan and try to simulate what you think it’ll be like, but it’s a whole different ballgame to find yourself in the midst of it… So different, in fact, that you might question how your “preparation” was so far from reality.
You can’t get comfortable with something foreign until you spend time in it. All the planning, practice, and prep serves to get you as ready as possible… but that doesn’t guarantee you’re 100% there. Time and experience are still needed. That’s where you exercise perspective. It’s your rock to keep moving forward. When there’s things your planning couldn’t prepare you for, stay positive and hungry. The period of discomfort will pass. My two new experiences reminded me of that:
OREGON
My friends and I decided to visit Oregon as one last hurrah before I moved out of state. I’d researched it many times. Read about it. Looked at pictures. I thought about what the sights, the weather, the vibe must be like… and being there was still different than I imagined.
I was imagining Oregon to be Colorado mixed with California, and it felt like neither of the two. Luscious green, beautiful coast, and quaint towns few and far between. Coastal rivers looked nothing like they do in the Rockies and Sierra. I stopped in a Portland fly shop to ask for some tips… when the guide reached for his suggested pattern, I actually thought he was joking. He recommended something I would never consider using. Then he provided some tips on how to fish them… it was a “Things Not To Do in Fly Fishing” crash course.
Weird, for sure, but ultimately humbling. I found myself reluctantly catching trout with the tips he offered. I thought I knew quite a bit after years of fishing Colorado/California… but it turns out I knew quite a bit about a small sample size, which meant jack shit in Oregon.
I found it funny and needed — a little reminder to stay humble.
We spent our time on the coast. Clamming, fishing, and sightseeing. We hoped to catch some sea-run Cutthroat, but only found some small resident Rainbows. A bag of delicious, smoked Coho salmon collars was a good consolation prize.
GOHUNT
I alluded to starting a new chapter in my last post, and it started this week. First day waking up in a new city, first day in an industry I have very little knowledge about, and first day living out my decision to separate from the military. Huge changes for me.
I’ve spent the last 9+ years in the military, 4 of them in school and the other 5 and change on Active Duty. Great experiences and people along the way, but it was never destined to be a lifelong ordeal. It never felt like “me”, so I decided to leave.
There’s great benefits to the military (they’ll remind you about them, often)… it’s stable employment. The healthcare is free. There’s a retirement if you put in 20 years. I even know there’s a free checked bag for every airline… But I didn’t wake up, a single day in 5 years, excited to go to work. Leaving the military seemed so daunting at times that I often contemplated staying (maybe a little Stockholm Syndrome at play).
But things transform when it’s more painful to stay the same than it is to change. I left something successful and familiar. I know I’ve got some rebuilding to do in this next journey.
That is discomfort… but 20 years is too damn long to do something you don’t love, and I’m not keen on wasting time.
I’m chasing something new. Is it the smart move? There’s no way to know beforehand. The smart and conventional move is not always the best move, but I feel good about it.
Keep on truckin’. No guts, no glory.
Las Vegas
The last time we moved states, Rex and I took our time. We meandered through Colorado for the first few days, fishing known and uncharted waters alike. Stargazing. Lots of sandwiches and rocket stove meals. Flask pulls in the tent. Listening to coyotes yip through the night.
Rinse and repeat through Utah, and again in California.
Thank God for Townes Van Zandt. The song, “To Live Is To Fly”, was our featured soundtrack. It’s one of my favorite songs ever.
“Days, up and down they come
Like rain on a conga drum
Forget most, remember some
But don’t turn none away
Everything is not enough, and nothing is too much to bear
Where you’ve been is good and gone, all you keep’s the getting there
To live is to fly, all low and high
So shake the dust off of your wings and the sleep out of your eyes”
The move to Nevada was much shorter and less adventure filled. A 6 hour drive through the night, late arrival, unload the uHaul and straight to bed… But I still listened to that same soundtrack.
To my friends in California and strangers on the internet,
“It’s time to go again
But think of all the poetry and the picking down the line
I’ll miss the system here, the bottom’s low and the treble’s clear
But it don’t pay too much to think on things you leave behind
Well I may be gone
But it won’t be long”
Oregon:
Thanks for reading. See you out there.
Too big a soul for this small place. Las Vegas Lone Rangers are guarding new streets now.
Love the photos, they are stunning. Excited for this next chapter of your life.