Fish Dreams

So it has been kind of a joke between my roommate and fellow guide, Jesse, that we talk in our sleep.  For most people, reoccurring dreams consist of standing naked in front of a crowd of people or having their teeth fall out.  Who knows what those dreams mean?  Stress?  Anxiety?  Who knows...

When I first heard that I got the job at the ranch, I immediately started having anxiety dreams.  It was the same dream over and over again and I always woke up out of breath and nervous.  The dream consisted of me guiding for an outfitter on a large lake, not a river that I am accustomed to fishing, that resembled Lake of the Woods in Ontario, Canada.  It was almost tournament style with a whole bunch of boats leaving from one area.  As a fly fisherman that specializes in catching trout, the dream always starts out on a good note, even though I'm not 100% confident in fishing for them on a lake.  But very soon, I start to realize that it's not trout we are targeting... but walleye.  I obviously have no idea how to catch a walleye on a fly rod, aside from potentially throwing streamers to them while they are spawning in the shallows.  I start to panic and in the end fail to get my clients hooked into fish.  This goes on for two full "dream days" on the water and in the end get fired due to my lack of success.

It was a pretty horrible dream to keep having over and over again, but in the end, it was just a dream that I can attribute to anxiety of the unknown.

So, to get back to Jesse and me, we have both caught the other chatting away in slumberland.  It started with me, very soon after we began guiding guests on Goose Creek.  I was obviously in an intense REM cycle when I started to have the type of sleep where you are clearly dreaming, but feel as though you are awake and when you speak you can hear what you are saying.  Not sure if anyone else has that, but it's the best I can describe it.  I was dreaming of me on the creek with a guest and he or she (can't remember the gender) had the perfect drift of their fly and got a strike but missed the fish.  Out loud I yelled, "SET!  SET! SET!" and out of disappointment, muttered, "Oh man that was a nice fish..."  Jesse, after my first "SET!" was screamed across our humble particle board walled room awoke and heard the entire exchange.  Since I was in such a light sleep and could hear myself yelling this, I was then awake and we both shared a pretty good chuckle in the darkness.

The same thing happened to Jesse a few weeks later where I was awakened by Jesse yelling the same string of words, "SET! SET!" and then silence.  For that one, I simply had a good laugh to myself and went back to bed.

Last night, however, was hilarious.  I woke Jesse up with a repeat session of our previous dreams.  After my second "SET!" I woke up and noticed Jesse had awakened as well.  This was the exchange between us:

Drew:  "Oh shit, not again..."

Jesse:  "Did you get 'em?"

Drew: "Nope..."

We had a pretty hard laugh and then slowly resumed whatever adventures we had previously conjured up within our subconscious.

Goose'n Around

It has been a slow week here at the ranch.  I sit here on my bed, exhausted from cutting and chopping firewood all afternoon, door open, with a nice cool breeze passing through the threshold from the thunderstorm lingering outside.  When business is slow for us guides, we are subject to Kyle Michaels, head ranch hand, and his extensive list of arduous ranch duties.  Before I go on, I have to briefly give a description of Kyle.  Kyle is around 5'10" with a presence of a guy towering at 7 feet.  He's quietly strong, until you get into an alfalfa bail bucking competition, when he proceeds to belittle you through his emasculating distance and power.  He only wears flannel.  When asked what he likes to do by guests, his response is "I like to work".  There was a facebook page created in his name, based on the same concept of the Chuck Norris jokes.  And on top of that, he has an extremely impressive man-beard.  I haven't met anyone who will even come close to out-working Kyle and because of that, it makes you want to work that much harder so as to not feel less of a man.  So as I worked through my third bandana that I use to mop the ridiculous amounts of sweat of my head and face, I proceeded to chainsaw and chop.

Earlier today, since we didn't have any guide trips, we were fortunate to take a trip to upper Goose Creek which is beyond the property line of 4UR, through the Humphrey's ranch and into the Weminuche Wilderness.  The creek flows into the reservoir that feeds Goose Creek below the dam, which then flows through 4UR.  We are able to bring guests up to Upper Goose Creek by request, so the GM wanted us to see it and fish it before we were in the position to bring guests up there.  Shucks... I guess I'll go fish unbelievable water...

The four of us head up there and hike the half mile or so into the creek.

We only brought one rod between the four of us and would switch off every few fish caught.  It is pretty small water with many overhanging branches that seem to swallow up flies like a hoover, so part of the switching was also brought on by too many fails or loss of flies in trees.  It didn't happen very many times but as soon as you lose your focus on what you are doing, it seemed that branches started to appear out of nowhere.

 Jesse with a round of applause and a few good laughs as A.J. snaps off on a nice fish.  Nothing worse than snapping off and then being mocked by three other dudes.

We fished for about two and half hours and probably netted a dozen fish without really fishing that hard.

Beautiful brookie.

Every seam, pocket, run, riffle or pool seemed to hold fish that would eat a dry fly.  We had a couple nice upper-teens fish eat that were either farmed or popped off once hooked but plenty of 12-16 inch chubby rainbows, cuttbows and brookies were hoisted by the end of the day.

Jesse hooked up.

Making this cuttbow feel stupid.

If someone wanted to catch ridiculous numbers of fish, upper Goose Creek would produce and produce and produce.  Oh, and after that, you'd probably catch a couple more.  The 4UR property is gorgeous, but this area is as breathtaking if not a touch more.  It's a special place that not too many people get the privilege of experiencing and I feel fortunate to have had the opportunity to go.  Overall, it was a really fun way to compensate for a lack of trips and it is always fun to see new water with a few good friends.

The hike out.

Unfortunately, after lunch, the chopping began.    

You Can Lead A Horse To Water...

My mom had a phrase for us growing up.  "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink".  She would say this to us when we procrastinated on a project in school that she would remind us about weeks in advance or in any situation that may better our lives either in the present or the future that we refused to listen to or ignore.  I feel that I have finally fully understood the phrase.  Not that I didn't understand before, but during my time at the ranch, I have had a guest here and there that it seems impossible for them to catch fish.  Whether it is their inability to listen, the incompatibility of my teaching to their learning style, lack of coordination or overall athletic ability or the fact that I may be a shitty guide, it's hard to say.  All I know is when I take people out on the river, 98% of them catch fish.  That should be good enough to be content.  However, it is the lingering 2% that eat away at my soul, making me question what the hell it is that I am doing out here.

I've had lengthy discussions with some of the other guides about the "tough days" out on the water.  They've all had their difficulties since their first time guiding clients and emphasize the fact that I shouldn't let it get to me.  But, inevitably it does.  I'm not losing sleep over it, but the perfectionist in me hates failure and will stew over every scenario and what could have been done differently or better.  But, in the end, I can only do so much.  Occasionally, it takes every inch of my being not to grab the rod out of the persons hand, tell them they lost their privilege to fish and are done for the day and fish by myself for the rest of the trip making them watch how it's done from the bank.

And I'm a patient person!  I can't imagine someone who lacks even a fraction of patience trying to do what fly fishing guides do.  To the outsider, this job seems easy.  Why wouldn't it?  I spend all of my work day standing in a river, under the sun, teaching people how to fly fish.  What the average person doesn't understand, is the amount of pressure, stress and patience is involved.  People are paying a lot of money for my services and if I'm unable to produce, what then?  Until I catch my first fish, I am wrangling butterflies in the gut.  Once the fish hits net, the pressure is off, the skunk is out of the bag, or any other phrase you would like and we can finally just fish.

I'm not saying that I hate my job or sit and wish I was doing something else.  I'm not.  I love what I do and I wouldn't change it for anything.  But, like any job, there are some days, but more specifically, some people, whose inability, stubbornness, or incomprehension after 4 hours can take you to your breaking point and cause severe cravings for a beer and a dip in solitude as soon as you fake your thank yous, smile and wave good bye.

You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink.  I will amend this motherly cliche to, "You can teach a person to fish, but you can't make him catch them.  At some point, I can only provide so much.  The rod is in their hands and unless they are able to learn and perform, I am simply a guy with a net standing knee deep in a river with wet pants open to conversation.

I truly do love my job.