Our public lands are the foundation of healthy watersheds and strong communities. From remote trout streams to working forests and rangelands, these places provide clean water, vital trout habitat and public access for all Americans. But pressures like efforts to sell off and privatize public land threaten what makes them so valuable.
This blog series highlights the people and places at the heart of these landscapes—and the practical, local perspectives keeping them accessible, productive and resilient for generations to come.
You’ve definitely seen his work.
A one-man band for documenting conservation and a cornerstone of Trout Unlimited’s advocacy to protect our special places across the country, Josh Duplechian has served as TU’s senior producer for 13 years.
Over the course of his tenure, he’s created more than 100 films—both short and long—for TU and created a catalogue of thousands of images about some of the most impressive, challenged, threatened and celebrated landscapes in our country.
With roots in photojournalism, Josh brings an impressive array of experience to his storytelling, with some of his past and continued work featuring organizations like the U.S. Ski and Snowboard Team, ESPN, the New York Times, the NCAA, The Denver Post, and the Colorado Rockies, among others.
So, what brings a guy like that to TU? Because at the end of day, Josh believes that regardless of whether he’s waist-deep in a river or behind a screen in the editing bay, he cares most about making meaningful stories that move people.
TU: What’s been your most memorable experience working on public lands and/or conservation projects?
JD: Thirteen years ago, I joined TU to help expand communications for our public lands advocacy work in the western U.S. I came in with a deep appreciation for these landscapes—first from experiences in Idaho, and even more so because I grew up in the Midwest, where public access to wild places is much scarcer. By the time I arrived in Colorado, I was completely in love with those big, wide-open seas of forest, mountains and sagebrush.
One of my earliest projects took me to northern New Mexico, where I helped share the story of the Rio Grande del Norte as it was being considered for national monument designation. From my journalism days, I always believed in the power of community and family to protect the places they love. That belief only deepened when I met Gia Mondragon, a native of the region, who graciously welcomed me into his world. He shared his family’s deep roots on the land over plates of slow-cooked elk and fiery chiles, and I felt the weight and warmth of the stories that tie people to place.
By March 2013, 242,555 acres along the Rio Grande were officially designated as the Rio Grande del Norte National Monument. More than a decade later, the memory of those meals, those stories and that landscape hasn’t faded—and I don’t think it ever will.
TU: How do you see the current debate over public land sales and transfers affecting the conservation efforts you’ve been a part of?
JD: Where to begin? For me, it always starts with family. Public lands are the backbone of our time together—hunting, fishing, rafting, biking, camping. Whether close to home in Colorado or far down some dirt road in another state, these wild places shape our lives.
I’ve been fortunate to spend time with biologists, restoration crews, anglers, landowners, ranchers, federal agencies and local communities all over the country. Those experiences give me a perspective that many folks never get when debates over public land sales or transfers pop up. For the people who live and work closest to these places, the land is more than scenery—it’s livelihood, heritage and connection.
My biggest fear is for these communities. Some are thriving, but many are holding on by a thread. Take away their public land access, and what happens? I’ve driven across long stretches of flat, open country and wondered: what if this was gone? Once we sell or transfer public land, that’s it—we don’t get it back.
TU: What role do you think public lands play—and documenting them—in fostering a connection to nature?
JD: Most anglers have a little wanderlust in their DNA. We love our home waters, but we’re also drawn to the rivers, lakes and wild landscapes that call from farther away. Decision-makers, on the other hand, often only have a fleeting moment to experience the places their constituents care about so deeply.
Sure, the internet can give you everyone’s opinion, but what it often lacks is the authentic voice of the people who have raised their kids, built their lives and escaped the daily grind in these wild places. That’s where visual storytelling comes in. Documenting our public lands and the people who depend on them brings those stories straight to the desks—and the hearts—of the folks who can make a difference.
I’ve made it my mission to use visual storytelling to give public lands a voice. Thirteen years with TU have given me the chance to do that every single day—and lucky doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel about it.
TU: For those looking to make an impact and support conservation projects and public lands, what tips do you have for documenting these special places?
JD: Whether you’re telling your own story or someone else’s, the most important thing is having a genuine point of view. Camera gear is secondary—don’t let it distract you from what really matters: connecting to the story.
- Speak from the heart.
- Be empathetic.
- Listen.
- Try to understand every perspective you can.
One lesson I learned early on at TU is that if you want to protect a place, you need to know it inside and out. That means spending time there—not just passing through. When you approach a place and its people with respect and curiosity, the stories come naturally.
TU: Looking ahead, what’s the most pressing public lands conservation issue you think needs attention, and how is TU working to address it?
JD: From my perspective, social media alone isn’t going to save our public lands. It’s a great tool, but it’s not the answer. What truly matters is people standing up and telling their decision-makers that they oppose the transfer or sale of these places we all depend on.
We need allies—people willing to explain the value of public lands to friends, neighbors and anyone who might not fully understand what’s at stake. I worry we’ve gotten too comfortable giving a thumbs-up or a quick “like,” without realizing that a simple phone call to a decision-maker can make all the difference.
And beyond that, we can’t ignore the bigger picture. Climate change is real, and it’s reshaping the future of these landscapes. Protecting public lands isn’t just about preserving access—it’s about facing that challenge head-on and making sure these wild places endure.
TU: And finally, why photograph and film fish when you’ve covered such a variety of other topics throughout your career?
JD: Everything I’ve done has shaped the storyteller I am today. Don’t get me wrong, covering a World Series or Super Bowl is thrilling, and I’ll always respect and value that chapter of my career. But at one point while I was sitting on baselines in stadiums and arenas across the country when I started to notice the pattern; I’d be gone for a week or more at a time for a major sporting event and doing the same thing day in and day out. When I finally came home, I always needed a reset.
Public lands became that reset.
After a week surrounded by crowds, rules and constant schedules—being told exactly where I could and couldn’t stand—I craved the freedom of wild places.
Public lands, and the people who love them, don’t care where I stand. They don’t care what I’m wearing or how quiet or loud I am. There’s no judgment out there. Just space to breathe, to listen and to feel small in the best way possible.
Outside of my family, that’s what I looked forward to the most.
And eventually, I realized I could make a career out of that feeling. Documenting the work TU does across the country makes me realize every day how lucky I am. I say it often—I believe I have the best job at TU.