Yesterday started like most of our install days — gear loaded, coffee in hand, my daughter by my side, and a storm overhead as we headed toward the Blackstone River. The goal: get the new camera online, check the North and South Ram, and maybe even grab tacos on the way home.But as anyone who’s spent time in the backcountry knows — the mountains have a way of rewriting your plans.We pulled in early and geared up. As we approached the treeline, I spotted two guys on the far end of the cut block. Strange. No road. No visible campsite. And they were carrying large rocks, which made even less sense. But we had a job to do, so we pressed on.The first install spot had no signal, so we walked a few kilometers downstream. That’s when the dog started acting up — alert, anxious. We cut through the trees toward the river, and as we broke the bush line, there they were again: the same two guys.I asked if they were fishing, but it was clear they weren’t. Turns out they’d gotten stuck the night before — high-centered on a stump, axle buried, no way out, and no cell service. Easily two hours from help… unless we were it.So, the mission changed.We hiked back up the hill, grabbed the jack, straps, and dug in — literally. After about an hour of digging, jacking, swearing, and problem-solving, we got them free. They were beyond grateful. And for me? I was just proud to show my daughter that when someone needs help, you help — even if it throws your plans off course.—Why We Do ThisThis project — StreamSight — was never just about cameras or data. It’s about connection.To the rivers.To the land.To each other.What started as a camera install became something deeper. And it reminded me — sometimes, the best moments come when you let go of the plan and step up when it counts.
