Sometimes, on rare, special occasions, the photographer gets to fish. And it’s a wonderful thing.
Last week in Belize I got to sneak out from behind the camera.
Image: courtesy of Robert Wells.
El Pescador
Back to Belize
It’s been a hectic Q1. (Okay, really it’s been a hectic year, since the world went topsy-turvy in March 2020.) Now, a year later, we’re still muddling through it.
I was fortunate enough to kick off 2020 with another visit down to Belize’s El Pescador Lodge to continue shooting saltwater fly-fishing imagery. Between hosting a group of anglers for a week, working as a producer for a videographer, and shooting my own work for El Pescador and several editorial clients, it was a hectic visit but—as always—a good one. (Stay tuned for two editorial features about to drop, covering the reopening of Belize and what both travel and fishing look like there now.) The weather was uncooperative for the most part, but we made the most of it and our rain gear got plenty of mileage.
Then it was back to Montana, settling back into what’s become my routine of lap swim in the early morning, come back to the apartment to work until lunch, go for a walk or run, work the afternoon, then rinse, repeat, and do it all over again. It’s feeling an awful lot like Groundhog Day, but there’s light on the (far) horizon.
I’ve been asked to head back down to El Pescador in May to fill-in as Fishing Director for a few weeks. Excited to get back down into the salt and slip into the now-familiar routine of what’s become rather a second home. (What is home, anyway? It’s an incredibly fluid concept, and mine certainly isn’t Missoula.)
So, if you’re looking for an escape, come hang and fish at El Pescador in May. I’m not hosting, nor giving a photo school, but would love to see some friendly faces in the tropics. Shoot me a note and I’ll give you the details!
On Island Time in Belize for the U.K.’s Fieldsports Magazine
“The air is heavy with humidity and the playful scent of tropical flowers, mixing languidly with the scent of aviation fuel and the general bustle of Belize’s largest airport, Philip S. W. Goldson International, in Belize City. The open-air stroll into customs provides a welcome glance at what’s to come: Belize is delightfully casual. Things move on ‘island time’ in this Central American country, and the airport experience is a part of that. I’m quick to find a seat at Jett’s Bar, the bustling airport bar run by diminutive, wizened Jett, and settle in to wait for the short Tropic Air flight to San Pedro.”
The U.K.’s Fieldsports Journal is one of my favorite publications to work with. The magazine itself is gorgeous—thick, heavy paper printed with intense colors, the binding sturdy. Each issue reads more like a mini-book than a magazine, and shows in my mailbox carefully nestled in cardboard packaging. Quality, all around. The editors are lovely, and I delve through each issue—whether or not I have an article placed—with excitement.
In this most recent issue, I wrote up a few words about Belize escapes. I’ve been down to the Central American country three times now, each time bringing very different experiences and new lessons both on and off the water. But there’s a relaxed “go slow” island vibe I fall in love with a little more each trip. I tried to sum it up in the closing paragraph of this most recent article:
“After a long day on the boat (most full-day fishing trips run eight hours) it’s back to the lodge for 
appetizers and cold drinks. Bartender Mariano runs the bustling El Pescador bar, serving up a mean Belizean Painkiller crafted from pineapple juice, orange juice, and spiced rum, with a few special additions. As is traditional at any fishing destination around the world, fish stories are exchanged over drinks and bar games; tales of near-misses and photo proof of the ones that didn’t get away. Later, dinner is served informally at the open-air tables dotting the deck, and newfound friends find themselves seated at the long tables, exchanging fishing tales from Belize and beyond. The tropic air of the Caribbean softens at night yet rarely loses its warmth or humidity, and once the revelry at the bar ebbs anglers find their way back to their rooms, ready to rise again in the morning and do it all again.”