Last month, I spent five days guiding a couple of anglers who’ve traveled the world with us, Cuba, Alaska, and beyond, but had never fished Central Oregon. For them, this was their first time on my home waters.

The weather didn’t do us any favors. Cold fronts rolled through, the wind was relentless, and the rivers never quite found their rhythm. From my perspective, it was an off week. I’ve seen these waters shine, and I wanted them to see that version.

But their reaction caught me off guard.

They thought it was incredible.

They caught wild trout on dry flies in clear water. They explored high desert creeks, technical tailwaters, and classic riffles. They learned how to control depth, how to adjust to microcurrents, and how to really read the water. One of them told me it was the best trout fishing he’d ever had, not because of the numbers, but because of how much he learned.

And that stuck with me.

We were lucky enough to catch the first days of the Salmonfly hatch, a legendary event in the West. It had been delayed due to the cold weather and should have been in full swing all week. Still, the fish were looking up, and when the bugs started moving, it was hard to ignore. The guys had heard of Salmonflies and their golden stonefly cousins, but they couldn’t believe the size of them until they saw one crawl across their waders. Holding an almost three-inch-long dry fly in their hand, they just shook their heads in disbelief.

Travel has a way of sharpening your skills. Whether it's casting to permit in the wind or drifting egg patterns under an indicator in Alaska, you pick up new tricks every time you fish somewhere new. What was really special for me this week was getting to apply some of those lessons back on my home waters. Getting to see old rivers in a new light, and fishing them as if it were the first time.

I’ve spent every season and almost every condition on these rivers. I know the flows, the holding water, the hatches. This water shaped me. It taught me how to fish. But this week reminded me that familiarity can dull appreciation. While travel, surprisingly, can help you fall back in love with what you already have.

If there’s a river close to home that you haven’t fished in a while, go. Treat it like you would a far-off destination. Approach it with curiosity. You might be surprised by how much magic is waiting just out your back door.

And if you’ve been walking the same banks for too long, maybe it’s time to shake things up. Book the trip. See something new. A different river, or even a different country, might just be the thing that brings it all back into focus.

As for my guests, they left with more than good memories. They now carry new skills, insights, and confidence that they can take back to their own local waters.