I've always been more comfortable outside. Give me rain, cold, snow, wind, mud, or one of those gray Pacific Northwest mornings where you're not quite sure if the sun is ever going to show up. I'm good with all of it.
Heat? I have my limits.
When I moved to the Pacific Northwest, I knew I was coming somewhere special. What I didn't fully understand was just how much there was to learn. There are rivers I've never fished, trails I've never walked, coastlines I'm still figuring out, mountains I've only seen from a distance, and probably more places worth exploring than I'll ever have enough time to reach. That's part of what I like about it.
I didn't start Outside Lines PNW because I have the outdoors figured out. I started it because I don't.
I'm curious.
I want to know why one stretch of river fishes better than another. Why yesterday was great and today is dead. Why experienced anglers are watching river flow while everyone else is watching the weather forecast. Why one trail is packed with people and another equally beautiful place a few miles away is nearly empty.
And increasingly, I've found myself asking a simple question: how do you make better decisions before you leave home?
Fishing is probably the best example. There is an incredible amount of fishing information available today — reports, Facebook groups, YouTube videos, government websites, river gauges, fish counts, weather forecasts, tide charts, historical catch records, you name it. The problem isn't finding information. The problem is figuring out what it means.
Most fishing reports tell you where somebody caught fish yesterday. That's useful. But when I'm standing in the garage at 0400 looking at rods, tackle, fuel, weather, and a two- or three-hour drive, what I really want to know is:
Is tomorrow worth going?
That question became one of the ideas behind Outside Lines PNW. I wanted a place where outdoor information could be brought together, stripped of some of the noise, and turned into something practical. Not just content to watch, but information you can actually use.
That thinking eventually became the Fishability Index Engine. Instead of looking at one fishing report or one piece of data, the idea is to look at the combination of things that actually influence a trip, and turn all of it into something simple:
A score.
But more importantly, an explanation of why it received that score. Because I don't want Outside Lines PNW to tell somebody where to stand and cast. I want it to help them understand why they might choose that river, that beach, that lake — or maybe decide that today isn't the day and go somewhere else.
That philosophy will extend well beyond fishing. Camping, hiking, hunting, gear, trip planning, backcountry travel — there are plenty of places where good information exists but isn't always easy to turn into a good decision.
Fishing is simply where I decided to start.
Outside Lines PNW will also be where I document my own education. Some days I'll know exactly what I'm doing. Other days I'll probably drive three hours, get soaked, lose tackle, catch absolutely nothing, and learn considerably more.
Both belong here.
I don't want to build something around pretending to be the guy who already knows everything. There are plenty of people with decades more experience than I have, and I intend to learn from them. I'd rather build something around curiosity, preparation, experimentation, and the willingness to occasionally be wrong.
Maybe that makes Outside Lines PNW a little different. It's part outdoor journal, part classroom, part field experiment, and increasingly, part toolbox. Most of all, it's an excuse to keep exploring this remarkable corner of the world I now call home — and hopefully make it a little easier for somebody else to explore it too.
So that's where Outside Lines PNW begins. Not with having all the answers.
With wanting better ones.