There’s something about water that attracts kids. It’s just plain fun. How many adults would you find sitting on the side of a fountain spraying water, not caring how wet they get?

I spent the first five years of academia under the rule(r) of nuns and learning to live with a uniform (navy blue pants, white shirt, black shoes) which formed an aversion to dress codes. Time has taught me though, that we all have dress codes. About 15 or 20 years ago I was at the Smithsonian to hear Annie Lebovitz speak. It was pointed out to me that the majority of the photographers in the audience, including myself, were dressed in jeans, white shirt, leather jacket and cowboy boots. So much for independence. The dress code Friday night was cowboy boots and a mini skirt. Personally, I think I looked better in cowboy boots and jeans.

I’m not a big fan of crowds. I just don’t think I have the patience. I also like to be able to see beyond three or four feet in any direction. Friday I put my aversion to large masses of humanity aside and went to Friday Cheers, a series of outdoor concerts the city holds on an island in the middle of the James River.

So…after standing in the security line, so we could stand in line to get across the little bridge to the island, I managed to make my way to the line where they checked id’s, which allowed me to move to the line where I could buy my coupons which permitted me to stand in the beer line. Did I say I don’t have a lot of patience?

Once we had our beers we moved towards the stage. This was our view. We couldn’t see much and could hear even less. It sounded like garbled, pseudo country music. At least it was free, if you don’t count the $4 cups of beer. But what does that matter when romance is in the air.

I was saving this for the Fourth of July, but I think Memorial Day is a better place. It sits alongside the trout stream where I photographed the wounded veterans of Project Healing Waters (see below). I thought it might have been painted just for that event, but it wasn’t. A little reminder to anyone who fishes that stream of what the veterans fought for.

Back to the Outerbanks. Matt’s the bartender at the Roadside Bar & Grill in Duck, NC. He bartends. He surfs. He brews his own beer. He sets glasses on fire. You gotta love a bartender who plays with fire.

One thing that surprised me was how much stuff you have to wear to fly fish. The heavy fishing vest, waders and boots made the vets look like they had just come off duty in a war zone, minus the helmet and weapons, of course. I asked a couple of guys about it and they told me they need it all. Sounds a lot like a photographer, take it all, just in case you need it. The trick to it is learning that you don’t have to use it just because you have it. Probably the same in fishing.

When I fish I take a fly rod and a couple of flies, which may explain why I don’t do very well. I also do it on a pond in front of my house, not in a stream full of rocks and surrounded by overhanging trees. I still manage to lose more flies than I catch fish.

This was definitely a weekend of contrast. Saturday was tailgating in the sunshine, loud music and even louder engines. Sunday was photographing flyfishing in a quiet mountain valley in a steady rain.

My friend and fellow photographer Doug Buerlein was supposed to photograph a fly fishing tournament for Project Healing Waters and I decided to tag along. Healing Waters was started three years ago by a retired Navy captain, who was in Walter Read Hospital battling cancer. While he was there he came up with the thought that perhaps fishing could help wounded veterans recover. Turned out to be a pretty good idea. It has now grown to 66 chapters around the country. Sunday was a Two Fly tournament that paired an expert fly fisherman with a wounded vet for the day.

If you’d like to make a donation to this great cause you can do so here.