After almost two weeks since we started guiding clients, I definitely encountered my most difficult challenge to date. I just pray to all that is holy that I got the worst out of the way because if not, I will most likely try to get my hands on some lorazapam or a few zanex to ease my stress level. If you're wondering what could have possibly made this week so hard I have two words for you: 8 Kids.
Now don't get me wrong. Anyone who knows me knows that I love kids. I will never shy away from spending time with young kids and teenagers. However, when you only have three guides for 8 kids ranging from ages 8-16, things get interesting very quickly.
Taking three people is a challenge to begin with. On top of trying to split yourself three ways and trying to give everyone the same amount of attention, there are other factors working against you. First, is you only have a limited amount of water to fish. A half mile of water is a lot of water for one person. In fact, you need to keep a pretty good pace to get through all of that water before your time is over. However, when you try to fish the stretch with three people, the amount of water for each person is split in thirds and as a result you have to fish specific spots harder than you would like. Second, safety and efficiency come into play. With three people, you can't always be there to help the guest cross the river or ensure they don't continually foul up their line or snap off their flies. It's amazing how quickly things go wrong when you are not around to hold their hand.
Now, you read what I just wrote and then imagine three kids, ages 8, 12 and 15. All beginner fly fisherman. When I think back to these trips, a vein slowly bulges from my forehead. I started this trip on a stretch of river that is notoriously good for both numbers and size of fish. I right away established that the 15 year old would fish on his own for most of the day so I could focus my attention towards the younger two. I set him up on a good run that had produced fish the day before and then headed up river with the others to fish a plunge pool that also holds a bunch of fish. I began by having the two brothers paper, scissors, rock, best two out of three, to see who would fish first. The older of the two won and started casting. About three casts into the first hole, I hear "DREW!!!" from below. Thinking the older cousin had a fish on, I got excited only to find his entire rig balled up to the size of a softball. I waved him up to me so I could untangle his mess while still working with the other two. As soon as he got up to me, the younger boy who was sitting on the bank waiting his turn was mindlessly dangling his rod over the river, right in the path of the other kid's casting lane. It's like it happened in slow motion, but sure enough, I had three rods, all with rat's nests that we like to call "Career enders". This means that I had to clip all of the line off and start from scratch. I had to determine who I wanted to fix first and ended up getting the oldest back onto the water so I could make sure at least one person was fishing. Overall, a great start to the day.
As we continued up stream, I think by that time, I had re-rigged the kids at least a few times a piece. In between rigging sessions, they would tell me, "maybe we should try some different flies..." or "I need to catch a fish..." or "Are you sure there are fish in here?". After a while, especially with kids, you have to become a little bit of a hard ass and bust there balls a bit. Sometimes you have to get pissed at them and let them know that if they don't improve, I'll put them in the penalty box, which is a guide term for tying on a fly that has no chance of catching a fish and then telling them later that they were in the penalty box. As I say this, don't think that I was verbally abusing these kids. I would bitch them out light heartedly so it was still fun for them but that they understood deep down I was serious.
A tough thing with these youngsters is that they cannot be in the river by themselves. When we would cross the river, I would be up stream of them and break the current for them as we trudged along arm in arm. I did look down at the 8 year old in a particularly fast stretch of current, only to see his feet skipping along the surface of the water, holding on for dear life. I got a little chuckle at that, even though it could have ended very poorly. Another time, I had to get the youngest boy on my back so he didn't fill his waders with water.
It is interesting taking brothers and in this case, brothers and cousin on the river. As any brotherly competitive feud, they are always trying to one up the other, whether it is catching more fish, bigger fish or trying to spoil the other's success or self confidence. I'd be intently watching one's flies, and from behind me, I'd hear, "SET!!!" causing the kid fishing to yank his flies out of the water most often than not right when the flies were about to drift over fish. There were words used by 8 and 12 year olds that I hadn't even heard of at their age. They'd poke each other in the ear with their rod tips. There was punching, shoving and tripping. I served as fishing guide, life guard and baby sitter this week. As good as these kids were, I was glad to see them leave. We had a lot of fun, regardless of our success on the water and I think overall they appreciated us guides treating them more like adults. All I can say is that it was pretty nice today to get a single, somewhat capable fisherman on the river. That vein in my forehead has finally relaxed a bit.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Let It Begin
Well, my first week guiding clients has officially ended and after my one day off on Saturday have started right back up with a new group of guests. So far, I have received a snap shot of what guiding fisherman, or to be more accurate, non-fisherman, is all about. I can see that the inability, lack of knowledge and the mistakes of others will teach me more about fly fishing than any on the water experience I have had thus far. Each person is completely different and has a unique approach to learning and a specific set of issues to focus on.
Last week, I guided two different people for the week. One man, one woman. The guy, I'll call him Larry, was a nice enough guy, but had a difficult time listening and comprehending what I was saying, which resulted in a ridiculous amount of repetition and patience and aggressive pointing to where I actually wanted him to cast his fly. He also didn't quite understand the fundamentals of the cast and usually ended up over compensating with a HeMan haul on the forward cast, similar to trying to cast a musky plug as far as you can with a grunt and possibly a fart escaping in the process. This masculine approach to a technique that requires only finesse and rhythm, results in many flies dangling innocently from branches or drowned, clinging to submerged snags below the swift currents. Zero regard was given to his surroundings or to the amount of time and effort I spend at the vise, tying those damn flies. I did the math, and I can confidently say that there were roughly three dozen flies lost during this last week alone, which at about ten minutes per fly of tying time equates to 6 hours of my life viciously stolen from me, one bad cast at a time.
The lady, I'll call her Martha, wasn't too bad. She had never touched a fly rod before in her life and after about a half hour of casting instruction in the lawn, she was able to at least progress the flies in some sort of direction. Goal number one, get the flies into the water. You can't catch too many fish when your flies are wedged into foliage. I can't say that we destroyed fish, however, we had some great conversations, had some laughs and ended up netting a few fish in the process. For someone who has never caught a fish on a fly rod, it is an exciting experience. It's fun for me to witness this process unfold. From the initial cast, to the presentation of the flies, to me yelling "SET!", to the line getting tight and awakened with life, to the fight, to eventually getting the fish into the net, it is just as exciting for me as her guide as it is for her. What I have heard and now what I have experienced, is women are the easiest people to guide. They listen, which results in better form and technique and they don't have that inner need to dominate a fly rod with muscle and brawn. Those two factors alone will allow someone to catch on quickly and in the end catch more fish.
It was kind of funny, at the end of our last outing, Martha and I were fishing below a bridge that when you stand on it and look down you can see absolute behemoths ranging from 20-30 inches. These fish honestly look like decent sized steelhead, but because of their size and as a result, smarts and awareness to their surroundings, will have nothing to do with your flies. It's fun to fish to them anyway. She was getting some good drifts but couldn't quite get her flies far enough under the bridge to allow her flies to get down to the larger fish. It was about time to head back and I asked if I could make a cast for her and then hand her the rod. She agreed and I got low and put a tight loop about half way under the bridge. Before I could get the rod back into her hands, the indicator went down and on instinct, I set the hook into a nice 20 inch chunk of a rainbow. I tried to give the rod back to Martha, but she claimed her arm was hurting and wanted to instead have me fight the fish and for her to net the fish for me. So that was how my trip ended with Martha. We switched roles and I became the fisherman and she netted the fish. I'm not gonna lie, it was a pretty good change of pace from the rest of the morning.
Overall, the week was a success. I never got skunked with a guest and I think all of them had a pretty good time in the process. Each person is teaching me something new, not only in different teaching methods, but also about the tiny intricacies of the sport. I'm always on my toes and am required to think outside the box at times. I can't say that I have ever been required to approach fly fishing in this way before. I look forward to everyday on the water. I am fortunate to call this my job.
Last week, I guided two different people for the week. One man, one woman. The guy, I'll call him Larry, was a nice enough guy, but had a difficult time listening and comprehending what I was saying, which resulted in a ridiculous amount of repetition and patience and aggressive pointing to where I actually wanted him to cast his fly. He also didn't quite understand the fundamentals of the cast and usually ended up over compensating with a HeMan haul on the forward cast, similar to trying to cast a musky plug as far as you can with a grunt and possibly a fart escaping in the process. This masculine approach to a technique that requires only finesse and rhythm, results in many flies dangling innocently from branches or drowned, clinging to submerged snags below the swift currents. Zero regard was given to his surroundings or to the amount of time and effort I spend at the vise, tying those damn flies. I did the math, and I can confidently say that there were roughly three dozen flies lost during this last week alone, which at about ten minutes per fly of tying time equates to 6 hours of my life viciously stolen from me, one bad cast at a time.
A gorgeous 22 inch rainbow. Caught by Larry.
The lady, I'll call her Martha, wasn't too bad. She had never touched a fly rod before in her life and after about a half hour of casting instruction in the lawn, she was able to at least progress the flies in some sort of direction. Goal number one, get the flies into the water. You can't catch too many fish when your flies are wedged into foliage. I can't say that we destroyed fish, however, we had some great conversations, had some laughs and ended up netting a few fish in the process. For someone who has never caught a fish on a fly rod, it is an exciting experience. It's fun for me to witness this process unfold. From the initial cast, to the presentation of the flies, to me yelling "SET!", to the line getting tight and awakened with life, to the fight, to eventually getting the fish into the net, it is just as exciting for me as her guide as it is for her. What I have heard and now what I have experienced, is women are the easiest people to guide. They listen, which results in better form and technique and they don't have that inner need to dominate a fly rod with muscle and brawn. Those two factors alone will allow someone to catch on quickly and in the end catch more fish.
Martha with her first fish on a fly rod. Exciting stuff!
It was kind of funny, at the end of our last outing, Martha and I were fishing below a bridge that when you stand on it and look down you can see absolute behemoths ranging from 20-30 inches. These fish honestly look like decent sized steelhead, but because of their size and as a result, smarts and awareness to their surroundings, will have nothing to do with your flies. It's fun to fish to them anyway. She was getting some good drifts but couldn't quite get her flies far enough under the bridge to allow her flies to get down to the larger fish. It was about time to head back and I asked if I could make a cast for her and then hand her the rod. She agreed and I got low and put a tight loop about half way under the bridge. Before I could get the rod back into her hands, the indicator went down and on instinct, I set the hook into a nice 20 inch chunk of a rainbow. I tried to give the rod back to Martha, but she claimed her arm was hurting and wanted to instead have me fight the fish and for her to net the fish for me. So that was how my trip ended with Martha. We switched roles and I became the fisherman and she netted the fish. I'm not gonna lie, it was a pretty good change of pace from the rest of the morning.
Overall, the week was a success. I never got skunked with a guest and I think all of them had a pretty good time in the process. Each person is teaching me something new, not only in different teaching methods, but also about the tiny intricacies of the sport. I'm always on my toes and am required to think outside the box at times. I can't say that I have ever been required to approach fly fishing in this way before. I look forward to everyday on the water. I am fortunate to call this my job.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Twas the night before...
I sit here in anticipation. I just found out a couple hours ago who my client is and which station of river I will be guiding him on. I have no idea what to expect. Butterflies are in flight within. Not quite able to sleep yet. Going over in my head everything needed for tomorrow. Flies? Check. Tippet? Check. Nerves? Check.
Which flies will I begin with? What will the river look like? Which holes will produce? I heard my guest is a beginner that has fly fished once... a week ago. How bad will he be? How many snags and knots will I be unraveling? What if I can't get him to catch fish?
As I sit here, trying to predict what tomorrow will bring, it gets me excited. It gets me excited because now my summer of guiding has finally begun. I came out here to guide people into fish and tomorrow is judgement day. The pressure is on. I get to see what I'm made of. I finally get to put my knowledge, patience, skills and character to the test.
And I say bring it on.
Which flies will I begin with? What will the river look like? Which holes will produce? I heard my guest is a beginner that has fly fished once... a week ago. How bad will he be? How many snags and knots will I be unraveling? What if I can't get him to catch fish?
As I sit here, trying to predict what tomorrow will bring, it gets me excited. It gets me excited because now my summer of guiding has finally begun. I came out here to guide people into fish and tomorrow is judgement day. The pressure is on. I get to see what I'm made of. I finally get to put my knowledge, patience, skills and character to the test.
And I say bring it on.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
A Humble Game
Two days ago, I got my ass kicked. I have to be clear for my mom's sake that it was not in the physical sense, but more along the emotional realm. I was riding sky high only to be shot down to crash and burn, wallow in my sorrow or whatever other phrase you want to use. I'm painting a pretty dreary picture, when in fact, things aren't that bad. I get paid to do "stream research", live in an unbelievable panorama of beauty and get to work with a few pretty stellar dudes in the process.
I have been working at the ranch for about 3 weeks now, and I have fished most of the days while here. Most of the days, my skills are up to par and I feel like an adequate part of the guiding team. However, there are days, such as two days ago, where I question whether I am able to do this job the way it needs to be done.
I work with two veteran guides that know this water inside and out. The water isn't terribly hard to read, however, knowing where to fish is half the battle. As in anything, it doesn't matter how good you are at something, there will always be someone better than you. In my case, the vets are fly fishing studs that can put a fly wherever they want, no matter the conditions. It is easy to fall into beginner mode and lose the confidence or swagger I once had and resort to being passive while resurrecting bad habits. Instead of approaching a spot and knowing that you will make the cast, I start to question everything I know and over think what should be basic fundamentals. When this happens, frustration sets in causing a vicious cycle of angry, unproductive fishing.
It doesn't matter the circumstance, if anger intrudes into your fishing, something is wrong. No one should ever be angry on the water with fishing being the epicenter of their stress. If that is the case, that person should not be fishing, or at least take a few lessons in either fly fishing fundamentals or anger management. Fly fishing is pure. Fly fishing is beauty. Fly fishing is the one thing I will do for the rest of my life where stress vanishes and I can escape to fill my senses with untouchable peace. If anger enters my being on the water, I stop fishing and take a look around me. I am reminded as to why I do what I do and to how blessed I am to have the opportunity.
As a new fishing guide, humility is number one. As far as I see it, I know nothing. I am a sponge to the wisdom the returning guides are willing to share. When I am not performing, I sure as hell will figure out why so I can continue to learn and build my arsenal. I hope these "bad" days continue to be few and far in between and that I can harness my confidence to perform when asked. First clients come on Saturday. The true test awaits.
I have been working at the ranch for about 3 weeks now, and I have fished most of the days while here. Most of the days, my skills are up to par and I feel like an adequate part of the guiding team. However, there are days, such as two days ago, where I question whether I am able to do this job the way it needs to be done.
I work with two veteran guides that know this water inside and out. The water isn't terribly hard to read, however, knowing where to fish is half the battle. As in anything, it doesn't matter how good you are at something, there will always be someone better than you. In my case, the vets are fly fishing studs that can put a fly wherever they want, no matter the conditions. It is easy to fall into beginner mode and lose the confidence or swagger I once had and resort to being passive while resurrecting bad habits. Instead of approaching a spot and knowing that you will make the cast, I start to question everything I know and over think what should be basic fundamentals. When this happens, frustration sets in causing a vicious cycle of angry, unproductive fishing.
It doesn't matter the circumstance, if anger intrudes into your fishing, something is wrong. No one should ever be angry on the water with fishing being the epicenter of their stress. If that is the case, that person should not be fishing, or at least take a few lessons in either fly fishing fundamentals or anger management. Fly fishing is pure. Fly fishing is beauty. Fly fishing is the one thing I will do for the rest of my life where stress vanishes and I can escape to fill my senses with untouchable peace. If anger enters my being on the water, I stop fishing and take a look around me. I am reminded as to why I do what I do and to how blessed I am to have the opportunity.
As a new fishing guide, humility is number one. As far as I see it, I know nothing. I am a sponge to the wisdom the returning guides are willing to share. When I am not performing, I sure as hell will figure out why so I can continue to learn and build my arsenal. I hope these "bad" days continue to be few and far in between and that I can harness my confidence to perform when asked. First clients come on Saturday. The true test awaits.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Birthdays, Beers and Bears
Its been awhile since my last post but a lot has been happening and I've been steadily at work, doing odd jobs, getting ready for guests to arrive. My birthday has come and gone and as many birthdays, good times were had, some fish were caught and too many beers were consumed. One thing I've noticed is when you are 26 years old and you live and work with 18-22 year olds, it becomes more and more difficult to keep up with their pace. Not to say I am "over the hill", in fact I'm far from it, but at some point you lose that ability to stay up late, drink til you can't see, and get up the next day and feel as though you could do it all over again. I'm not sure when that transition occurs, however, I do know that for me that transition is complete. Needless to say, the following day of work consisted of endless water consumption, excessive sweating and a much needed positive attitude. Eventually my helmet was loosened, however the sweating inevitably persisted.
Before all of the festivities, I did manage to catch some fish. The three other guides took me out before dinner to try and catch my birthday fish. It pretty much consisted of the three of them standing on the bank drinking beers while I fished. Since the rivers are pretty high and muddy, the timing wasn't ideal and the fishing was tough, however, I did manage to hook into a small brown, which I successfully distance released and brought a nice cutt-bow to hand. Overall, a good start to a great 26th birthday.
Two days later, the staff was treated to a white water rafting trip with Mountain Men Rafting, based in Creede. It was a fun way to let loose and have a little fun as a group and get away from the grind of work for an afternoon. We floated about 14 miles down the Rio Grande through the Wason Ranch property and ended at the Palisade camp ground near 4UR.
Before all of the festivities, I did manage to catch some fish. The three other guides took me out before dinner to try and catch my birthday fish. It pretty much consisted of the three of them standing on the bank drinking beers while I fished. Since the rivers are pretty high and muddy, the timing wasn't ideal and the fishing was tough, however, I did manage to hook into a small brown, which I successfully distance released and brought a nice cutt-bow to hand. Overall, a good start to a great 26th birthday.
Birthday fish
Studly group.
Yesterday, on our day off, two of the guides and I ventured to a reservoir about an hour and a half away to fish for carp. The forecast stated that the winds were supposed to die down, but we all know how accurate weathermen can be. What was supposed to be 5-10 mph turned into about 20-25 mph with gusts most likely in the 30s. Normally, this type of fishing is done with heavy rods, spotting fish, casting to them and using a slow retrieve only to have a 10-25 lb. slab slurp your fly and spool you multiple times before you bring them to hand, the hook slips through their soft mouths or they eventually bust you off in an impressive last ditch effort for freedom. This was my first time carp fishing with a fly rod and I was excited. Little did we know that the winds would pick up, causing white caps that made it near impossible to spot fish due to the broken water and the chalky, turbid water that resulted. We fished for around two hours, decided that we were spending way to much effort hauling flies and slapping water and chose the always appealing alternate: Burgers and beers at the local brewery. We packed up our gear, headed into town, sipped on some delicious I.P.A., ate some burgers, had some laughs and returned home to the ranch. All in all a pretty above average day and as a bonus, we scared up a couple of bears rummaging along the road leading to the ranch.
Geared up for whatever comes our way.
Reminiscent of saltwater flats fishing.
Excellent burger and beer combo
You can just see the second bears head poking out from the top of the hill on the left next to the second tree.
This is why fishing is worth every bit of effort. Even when you don't find what you were originally looking for, the journey along the way is always an unpredictable adventure.
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