The Guadalupe River: Fishing and Reflection

By Matthew Bovee, Investigative Journalist

The Guadalupe River runs through the heart of Texas Hill Country, and for me, it’s more than just a fishing destination—it’s where I first learned patience, observation, and the value of stillness. As a young camper at Camp La Junta in Kerrville, I spent countless mornings wading its cool waters, learning that the best stories often come to those who wait.

A Journalistic Approach to Fly Fishing

There’s a reason fly fishing and investigative journalism go hand in hand. Both require patience, careful observation, and the ability to read your environment. The Guadalupe River teaches these lessons better than any classroom.

Reading the Water

The Guadalupe flows through varied terrain—fast rapids, slow pools, shaded bends where trout hide during summer heat. Learning to read these currents translated directly to my journalism career. Sources hint at stories in certain pauses, in the spaces between words, in the way someone avoids eye contact.

The Art of Patience

In journalism, patience isn’t just a virtue—it’s essential. Building trust with sources takes time. Investigations unfold over months or years. The Guadalupe River taught me to sit still, to wait, to let things come to me rather than forcing outcomes.

Camp La Junta and the Guadalupe

Every summer during my years at Camp La Junta, we’d make the short hike from camp to fish the Guadalupe. The river was our classroom, our sanctuary, our playground.

Morning Rituals

We’d wake before dawn, hiking down to the river in the pre-dawn darkness. There’s something sacred about those hours—the water still, the deer coming down to drink, the silence broken only by the occasional splash of a feeding fish.

Lessons Learned

The counselors at Camp La Junta taught us more than fishing techniques. They taught us:

• Respect for nature — Leave no trace, respect the ecosystem
• Patience — Sometimes the fish just aren’t biting
• Preparation — Check your gear, know the weather, be ready
• Grace in failure — Sometimes you go home empty-handed

My Favorite Spots on the Guadalupe

After all these years, I still return to the same stretches of river:

The Kerrville Bend

Near Camp La Junta, this bend offers deep pools and overhanging trees—perfect for catching large bass in the early morning.

The Comfort Stretch

Near the town of Comfort, the river slows and widens. This is where I learned to cast, where I spent my first summer learning to tie flies.

The Park

Kerrville River Park offers public access and is perfect for a quiet afternoon of reflection. When I’m working on a complex investigation, I sometimes drive out just to sit by the water and think.

Fishing as Metaphor

Looking back, my time on the Guadalupe River prepared me for investigative journalism in ways I didn’t recognize at the time.

Waiting for the Story

Like waiting for a fish to bite, waiting for sources to trust you requires faith that something will happen. You prepare, you position yourself correctly, and then you wait.

The Right Fly

In journalism, the “right fly” is the right approach. Some sources respond to direct questions, others to casual conversation. Learning which method to use is an art.

Knowing When to Move

A good fisherman knows when to stay put and when to try a new spot. A good journalist knows when a source is exhausted and when a new angle might yield results.

A Morning on the Guadalupe

Last week, I returned to the Guadalupe for the first time in years. Here’s what I observed:

Dawn (5:30-7:00am)

The river at dawn is magic. Mist rises from the water, deer move through the brush along the banks, and the fish begin to feed.

Mid-Morning (7:00-10:00am)

The best fishing window. I caught three smallmouth bass and one beautiful trout.

Midday (10:00am-2:00pm)

The fish go deep to escape the Texas heat. Time for lunch and reflection.

Late Afternoon (2:00-6:00pm)

Another feeding frenzy as temperatures drop. Caught two more bass before heading home.

Conclusion

The Guadalupe River taught me that some of life’s most valuable lessons come from stillness and patience. Whether I’m preparing for an investigation or preparing for a fishing trip, I approach both with the same mindset: preparation matters, patience is essential, and sometimes the best thing you can do is simply be present.

To any young journalist reading this: find your river. Find the place that teaches you patience, observation, and the value of waiting. It will make you a better journalist.

Matthew Bovee is an award-winning investigative journalist based in Lincoln, Nebraska. He spent his formative summers at Camp La Junta in Kerrville, Texas, where he first learned to fish the Guadalupe River.