When Fishing Turns into a Photo Shoot: My Adventure on Sandy Lake
This morning, I decided to take my kayak out to Sandy Lake for a bit of fishing. When I was a kid, fishing with my Granddad was one of my greatest joys. Thinking back on those times always brings a smile to my face. But as life goes on, with adult responsibilities piling up, I’ve lost track of some of the things that once brought me so much happiness—fishing being one of them.
I’ve always said that the best camera is the one you have with you, and nothing grinds my gears more than missing a perfect shot because I didn’t have my camera. So, after a quick mental debate, I ran back into the house, grabbed my camera bag, and hit the road. The drive to Sandy Lake takes about an hour through some pretty scenic countryside, making for a peaceful start to the day.
When I finally arrived, the lake was like glass—absolutely stunning. Now, I have to confess, I’m terrified of dropping my camera and lens in the water. To ease my paranoia, I stowed my camera in a float bag and attached a bungee to keep it safe. Once I had the kayak in the water, I paddled across Sandy Lake. Okay, so it’s not the biggest lake, but hey, I still made it to the far side!
I was in the middle of tying a lure to my line when I spotted a kingfisher perched on a stump, actively fishing. Fishing plan? Immediately forgotten. I reached back for my dry bag, but of course, things didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped. Somehow, my lure got caught in my life vest, pinning my rod and preventing me from bringing the bag forward. It was anything but graceful, and in the midst of my struggle, the kingfisher took notice and promptly flew away—along with my perfect photo opportunity.
A bit frustrated but determined, I untangled myself from the aggressive lure and shifted my focus from fishing to photography. Anyone who knows me knows that photography is my first passion, especially when it comes to wildlife. I’ve never been a huge birder—except for birds of prey—but I’ve learned to enjoy watching most birds as they go about their daily routines.
I began to stalk across the lake, working my way toward a group of ducks when I spotted a log in the midst of some lily pads with three turtles sunning themselves on top. I carefully maneuvered closer, but stealth apparently isn’t my strong suit. One by one, the turtles slipped off the log and into the water, leaving just one behind. I managed to float close enough to snap a few pictures before the last one made its escape.
The lone remaining turtle
Next up were the ducks, sitting in a small cove across a span of lily pads. My luck with these guys was even worse—every time I got close, they took off, leaving me trailing behind. I did manage to get a few shots of ducks in flight, though. Not my best work, but I was still thrilled to capture them.
Duck trying to fly away
Couple ducks trying to avoid me
Toward the end of my outing, I came across a family of four loons—two parents and two young ones. I absolutely love watching loons, especially listening to their calls. I followed this family for a couple of hours, taking hundreds of high-speed photographs. After sifting through them, there are two shots I’m particularly pleased with.
Adult loon with her catch
Adult loon with another successful catch
As I paddled back to shore, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the day. Sure, I didn’t catch any fish, but I managed to reel in some great photos and a renewed appreciation for the simple joys that I’d let slip away over the years. It’s funny how a day on the lake, dodging flying ducks and outsmarting sneaky turtles, can remind you of what really matters.
So, while I might not have any fish tales to tell, I do have some incredible memories—and a camera full of proof that sometimes, it’s the things you almost forget that make the biggest splash. And who knows? Maybe next time, I’ll actually get some fishing done... or maybe I’ll just keep chasing that next perfect shot. Either way, I’ll be out there, camera in one hand, paddle in the other, soaking up every moment.
