Jeff wrote... "I was ecstatic when I received a text from Cameron inviting me to float down the Thornapple River with Allen Campbell on the oars. It felt like a long time coming. After years of working with Cameron from afar, with emails and texts, countless collaborations, we had never met face-to-face. Now, I was going to have a day on the water with him, exploring a river I hadn’t yet fished, sharing a boat with a veteran guide, and doing what I love most: fly fishing and drifting down a river.
For years, we had tried to make this happen, only for prior obligations to get in the way. But this time, the stars aligned. Not only would I finally put a face to the name, I’d experience a piece of water that felt both new and promising."
"As an Industrial Designer, one of the most rewarding parts of my job was creating journey maps
—
 visual stories of how people interacted with a product, or how they 
went thru their day getting their job done captured through words and 
sketches.  Sometimes it was as simple as words scrawled on Post-its, 
arranged in a sequence.  Other times it was rich illustrations capturing
 moments, thoughts, feelings, and discoveries.  The goal was always to 
understand a person’s experience more deeply — why they acted, what they
 felt, and how design shaped their journey.
Today, in retirement,
 I call this story sketching, and it goes hand in hand with fly 
fishing.  Both are about paying attention. Both require being present.  
Both teach patience and reward practice.
With a fly rod in one 
hand and a sketchbook in the other, I can capture moments that a camera 
might miss: the sound of a rising fish, the way morning mist rests just 
above the surface of the water, the camaraderie between friends.  The 
pages of a sketchbook carry the sights, the smells, the feel of a day on
 the river, moments captured with a pen, shaped by emotion, and shaped 
by experience.
After a memorable float down the Thornapple River,
 saying goodbye to Allen and Cameron felt bittersweet.  Driving home, I 
reflected on the moments of the day, the fish we missed and the fish we 
landed, the laughs shared between strokes of the oars, the quiet spaces 
between conversations.  The incredible shore lunch.
I
 pulled over, opened my Field Notes® notebook, and jotted down thoughts 
and ideas before they could slip away.  The next morning, I pulled out 
my sketch book and began working.  What I love about this process is how
 words and images intertwine.  Simple drawings capture moments a camera 
might miss.  Compositional elements guide the viewer’s eye across the 
page.  Sometimes the layout evolves into a multi-panel scene, almost 
like a graphic novel.  Sometimes it doesn’t work as intended, and that’s
 okay.  It’s about trying, practicing, and growing.
Through story
 sketching, I can capture moments that photographs can’t. The sound of 
the river whispering past the boat. The feel of a fly line unfurling 
across the water. The quiet thrill of seeing a fish rise, the pull on a 
streamer and the straightening of the line, and the sound of a reel 
singing as the line goes tight.  A photograph can freeze a scene, but a 
sketch can carry its heartbeat. Storytelling in this way goes beyond 
words and images, it’s about emotion, atmosphere, and remembrance. Its 
about translating sights, smells, and textures into moments that can be 
felt long after the trip has ended.
Drawing people has never been
 my strong suit.  But like fly fishing, it’s a discipline that humbles 
and inspires.  Day after day, I practice — doing quick studies and 
mastering the lines and gestures that make a person feel real. Viewers 
notice when something is off, and that pushes me to try harder, to learn
 more.
For
 me, the best moments aren’t just about the fish we land or the places 
we travel, it’s about how we remember them.  Story sketching has become 
more than a hobby; it’s a way to relive moments long after the lines 
have been drawn, the watercolor washes dried and the pages have been 
closed.
Through ink and paper, I can capture more than a scene — I
 can capture its soul.  The sound of a rising fish.  The quiet 
anticipation between casts.  The friendly chiding from the guide, 
sharing stories as the river flows by.  A photograph can freeze a moment
 in time, but a sketch can preserve its movement, emotion, and 
atmosphere.
Each trip adds another page to the journal, another 
chapter to the adventure.  Story sketching doesn’t just document where 
I’ve been, it reminds me why I go.  It blends the sights, sounds, and 
feelings of a day on the water into a language that speaks long after 
the trip has ended.
So, if you’re planning an adventure — a day 
on the river, a journey down a trail, or moments worth remembering, I’d 
be honored to join you as a "Visual Trip Reporter".  Together, we can 
capture the story that only your adventure can tell, one line, one 
stroke, one moment at a time.  After all, every trip has a story worth 
telling.  And every story deserves a sketch."
No comments:
Post a Comment