Sometimes, push.

Last year, I made it as far as "the big tree". I asked how close I was to the first canyon.
"About half way."
I declared that I would never make it to the canyon.

For overweight guys, some fishing locales feel like pipe dreams. But sometimes, if you wanna fish, you gotta push. Today, I pushed to the canyon.
I probably wouldn't have strained, but this is a special stream. You won't get me to name it, and not just because I'd lose friends. It's small, it's close to a population center (relatively speaking - it's Montana), and it's good. Over about 4.5 hours today, I landed 34 trout (yeah I counted) - browns, rainbows, brooks, and one cutthroat. Two of them probably stretched to about 17 inches, and most were a little overweight themselves. Some days, the fish here average about 15 inches.  
Unbelievably, it's only about 2.75 miles one-way by my calculations. And it's easy for the most part. My more-fit friends go up as far as 6 or 7 miles through untold canyons and meadows, and claim it only gets better.
Now that I know I can make it to the first canyon and back without collapsing into a pile of scrap-human, I intend to plan a full day to discover what lies beyond. Next hopper season.