Matthew Fox is a serious fisherman.

He leaves his Hawaii home at least once a year for a sojourn to the Wind River Valley. With his father, Fran Fox, Matthew loads the backpacks for a multiday trek into the rugged high country of the Wind River Mountains.

They most enjoy testing the waters of the glacial lakes at 11,000 feet, just below the craggy summits, with the magical movements of fly rods. They aim to fill a creel. For sure, they will take home more than that.

"He has to remind himself about the real world every once in a while," Fran said of his famous son.

Matthew is one of Hollywood's up-and-comings, the backbone of one of the most popular shows on TV, "Lost," and the star of two recent major motion pictures. He has been named one of People magazine's most beautiful men alive. GQ magazine and Entertainment Weekly both have planted him on their covers.

He lives a Hawaiian fantasy, raising a growing family with his former model wife, in a ranch-style abode along the beach.

It seems Matthew Fox has it all. But not quite.

He really wants to come home.

Back to the stunning Wind River country of Wyoming, where the highest peaks in the state melt down into high-country glacial lakes brimming with trout. Where wooded slopes descend, finally, into rolling hay meadows bordered by streams and rivers. This is where Matthew grew up on the family ranch, where he learned about the solid sense of home and family and where he has remained grounded in his sense of self.

"I loved Wyoming, and I still consider it my home. I really do. I consider it my base," said Matthew, 40, from the Hawaiian island of Oahu, where he lives while shooting "Lost."

"Right now, my family and I have to be on location wherever we shoot."

"Lost," for those who haven't tuned in, is about the survivors of an airline crash trapped on an island in the South Pacific. It's now in its third season. Matthew anchors the cast as Dr. Jack Shepherd, a reluctantly courageous leader to whom fellow survivors turn for answers.

"After the 'Lost' situation, I'm definitely going to be heading back to Wyoming and spending half the year," he said. Matthew owns property and is incorporated in the state.

He's more interested in talking about Wyoming than about "Lost."

He seems to relax. The words flow as he describes journeys home to fish in high lakes with his brothers and his dad. Delight rings in his voice when he explains how his children have taken to the Crowheart ranch on their visits. He becomes a little wistful envisioning a future home in Wyoming, raising his children with their cousins and building the sense of family with which he grew up.

But he's also certain that it will come to be. He is a planner -- one who leaves little to chance. He talks about the opportunities that have sprouted in Wyoming, opportunities that will enable him, someday, to come home.

"It's just the most beautiful place in the world to me," he said.

Heading east

Despite his love for Wind River country, Matthew recognizes that sometimes one has to leave what is loved the most.

"As beautiful as Wyoming is, and as many amazing things that are offered, for some young people it can at times be a bit of a trap," Matthew said. "I think it's important for people who grow up in places like Wyoming to think big. Get out of the state for a little bit and explore -- and then get back."

Matthew did exactly that -- after his dad prodded him to look beyond what the teen knew as he prepared for life after high school. At Wind River High School, sports became a consuming part of Matthew's life. More than anything, he yearned to play Division 1A football.

His dad wanted to help his son realize those dreams.

But the elder Fox, Fran, realized that most regional schools wouldn't want a 6-foot, 170-pound "finesse" player. Fran suggested a post-grad year somewhere, allowing Matthew a chance to hone his skills and gain real playing time.

"Any exposure is good exposure, and his mind was ready for that," Fran said.

They shopped around the East Coast. Matthew was offered many scholarships. He selected Deerfield Academy.

"I didn't have the money to send him to a school like that," Fran said. "He had to have pretty much a full ride, which he got."

Matthew excelled at football, basketball and track at Deerfield. He earned an invitation to play football for Columbia, one of the smallest Ivy League schools.

"He never looked back," Fran said proudly. "He was pretty courageous."

Matthew would counter that rather than courage, it took a willingness to step through new doorways. He was able to do that because of the grounding his early years in Wyoming provided. He's occasionally honored with requests to return to Deerfield or Columbia and speak to students.

"I remember how much pressure there was to know exactly what I wanted to do with the rest of my life," Matthew said. At the time, he was pursuing an economics degree with plans to make a living as a stockbroker. "The one thing I keep hammering home to them -- in my case, at least, there was no way in hell I was going to know what I wanted to do when I was 19." He encourages students to "take a breath and not sweat it so much."

"When you're 19, you should be looking at life as this massive amount of options available to you, and see what kinds of accidents and surprises you find along the way."

'It's the doing'

It's only right that Matthew shares that lesson, one learned while fishing.

His dad tells the story of a little stream, but he won't divulge the name.

"There's a particular piece of water in this country that harbors some big and very wild brown trout. It's crystal clear, gem-clear water, and it's not easy to fish," Fran said. "If you spend enough time there and get to know the waters, you can have an absolute ball.

"But it can be very frustrating. You have to really enjoy being there to make it worth your while. It can't be a question of getting it done. It's about doing."

Matthew wanted to catch fish, lots of fish, when he dipped a line in the clear waters. Sometimes, when he hooked into a solid brown only to have the fish break free, he'd get upset with himself, Fran remembers.

He had these words of wisdom for his son.

"Matthew, what you've got to learn is, it's the doing, not the getting it done, that's important."

Fran learned that lesson from experience, much of it gained in the Wind River high country guiding hunters to elusive trophy elk. They'd talk about being there for the campfires and the camaraderie. But when it came down to it, the hunters just wanted to bag the big bull.

"It took years and years for me to say, 'Look, you've got things backwards here,'" Fran said. "If you can't enjoy the everyday hunt, and just the process of doing it, then this is going to be rewardless for you."

He saw the same relentless pursuit of accomplishing goals in Matthew. But one day, his son figured it out.

"He came back after being alone on this stretch of river," Fran recalled. "He said, 'Dad, I think I really understand what you're trying to tell me. I had three big browns on, and I didn't land a single one.

"But I had a ball.'"

Eyes on home

It may be the journey that counts, but Matthew is looking ahead to the day he can return home.

Wyoming helped develop a sense of self in Matthew. His background still has a way of quieting the chaos that is an inherent part of living in a big city. He feels connected to some place bigger in spirit, and that tends to keep him grounded in his values and free of the inner clutter.

"I've been living in cities a lot of years since then -- New York, Los Angeles -- and those are exciting places to live. But there is so much stimuli that gets in the way between who you are and who you want to be," Matthew said.

"Growing up in the Wind River Valley is a huge part of who I am. I feel the best when I'm there. I feel more connected to what's important to me and my life -- my family."

His family was tight as he was growing up. The brothers knew their parents insisted they treat one another with respect and to value relationships.

"When you're growing up in Wyoming, in the middle of nowhere, that's the kind of thing that puts pressure on those relationships, but also gives the potential for huge strength," Matthew said. Home was 30 miles from the tiny town of Dubois, 50 miles from the comparative metropolis of Riverton. There weren't exactly other kids down the block to hang out with if your brothers grew tiresome.

Now, he's constantly reminding his own two children -- especially when they're squabbling -- that they have something special as brother and sister, and that will be increasingly important as life goes on.

Biding his time until he makes a physical return home, Matthew is crafting plans and laying the groundwork.

"I'm making a renewed investment in Wyoming, both monetarily, by purchasing property, and also psychologically," he said. His dad has vowed the Crowheart ranch will stay in the family, and Matthew has bought property around that area and up into Dubois. Ideally, he wants to spend at least half of each year in his home state -- and he's increasingly confident that technology may let him do just that.

Twenty years ago people had to pursue their dreams by moving out into the big cities of the world, Matthew says. Now, technology is making so much more possible.

"It's not going to be long before you can do anything you want in the world and stay in Dubois, Wyoming," he said. "I can live in the most beautiful place in the world, and still do the things I want to do."

Staying grounded

Matthew readily concedes that even technology wouldn't have worked for him without his efforts establishing a name in Hollywood and becoming popular enough to live where he chooses. That popularity has, of course, come at a price.

When Matthew first started in show business, his father cautioned his son, "Be careful, because you're going to hear people tell you exactly what you want to hear. They don't really care about you -- they care about what you can do for them."

"It's not an easy life," Fran said. "There's a big trade-off. What he's understanding now, more than ever, is it's the trip, taken with his wife and his children, that counts."

Matthew has achieved success with a wildly popular TV show, top-grade movies and numerous awards. But, he's had the presence of mind and the solid grounding to be sure he holds sacred his personal definition of success.

"I judge myself, my success, on how well I'm taking care of the relationships in my life," Matthew said. "I consider myself a family man. I worship the ground my kids and my wife walk on -- I find myself in awe of how amazing they are. I love them. They are definitely the most important people in the world to me."

But it is always a balance.

"There's this massive trade-off in time and energy that goes into creating. That, in my mind, actually takes away from the things I define myself by," Matthew said. "The most valuable commodity any of us have in our lives is time. That's it. That's the thing we have. Life is really about how you're going to spend that time."

So while he seeks ways to grow professionally, creatively, he's constantly running checks on himself and his relationships -- not that the Hollywood success doesn't matter. Really, it's about perspective.

"I must say I have moments where I really can't believe how far I've come. But really, ultimately, I'm just a farm kid from Wyoming -- which is such a great thing."