I am not an angler, at least not in the way that my husband and many of you are. I suppose I am an angler’s best friend; the kind of fishing buddy that doesn’t get in the way, doesn’t demand attention, documents the little brookies or massive cutthroat, won’t scare the fish away and I suppose manages the snack situation with a seriousness one might not appreciate. The experience of fishing has evolved for myself and my family, and I am incredibly grateful for this. My husband Kynan, pictured most predominantly in my images, used to set out alone to fish. Now it seems to have become a family adventure: a way for us to explore nature, seek each other in the wild and quiet places and share something simple together.
My daughter began her life strapped to our chests and eventually on our backs hiking through the foothills and rocky mountains in search of the perfect spot. You know the place – seemingly untouched, undiscovered, full of potential if not actual fish. This summer marked my daughter Isla’s very first fish caught independently of us. While it was not on a fly rod, she set the hook like she had done it a million times and with considerable strength for a seventeen-month old, she hauled it into the boat. She kissed the tiny perch, thanked it and set it back into the water. I think her father was more proud this day than he was the day we said our vows.
A month later we found ourselves fishing along the Crowsnest river and while usually content to observe and play at the river’s edge, Isla was adamant she cast a few out on her dad’s fly rod.
These moments, here and gone just as quickly, are why I pack my camera in every hiking pack I own, up every mountain, and along every single river. One day when our family inevitably shifts again and moves in a new yet completely natural direction; we will have these images and the memories that go along with them. They’ll remind us to look to the simple joys for comfort amid the chaos. They’ll remind us of the inescapable truth we learned together – that the rivers and lakes connect us to the land-and more importantly to one another. I may have become an accidental angler, but there are very few things I would rather have fallen into for the sake of my family and myself.
The last days of fall spent fishing on the Highwood river.
“I may have become an accidental angler, but there are very few things I would rather have fallen into for the sake of my family and myself.”
Landing cutthroat trout in the Crowsnest Pass. 
When the days were long and the waters warm – fishing in the southern Albertan Rockies.
Contributed By
Megan Vine
I have loved photography since I found my Mom’s old (non-functioning) Nikon film camera at the back of her closet as a kid. I used to sneak into her room, run out to the old hip roof barn on the farm and “take photos”. I began my career in critical care nursing ten years ago and completed my Masters Degree focusing on end-of-life care within the critical care setting in 2019. Maybe it was my study of death and dying that solidified the necessity of balancing out the intensity of my nursing career with a creative outlet. Photography has become the balance I was desperately seeking and a source of joy, whether paid or not. Creating and capturing the moments people revisit at the end of their life seems completely natural to me. I started Megan Vine Photography shooting mostly babies, kids and family sessions. I love creating branding images for my unique clients and more recently moving into elopement and wedding photography. Outdoor and fishing photography has fallen into the realm of my personal photography, but since my husband became a brand ambassador for Len Thompson Fishing Lures, I have been really enjoying sharing our family fishing adventures.
