Fish Out of Water

So it was proven to me a couple weeks ago that I am working in the right department.  It was a slow day on the river with not many trips scheduled for the guides.  I found out the day before that I didn't have a trip and found out that a couple of the ranch hands, Spencer and Zach, and one of the wranglers, another Spencer, were heading up the Soda Creek drainage to do some trail clearing on horseback.  On paper, this sounded like a good idea.  I hadn't done much horseback riding up to that point.  In fact, it wasn't since the first week I was here that I had even thought about riding a horse and before this year, I could count on one hand the amount of times I had taken the sheltered, lazy ride that most horseback riding operations offer in my entire lifetime.  But why not.  It seemed like a good way to spend a work day.  Mix things up a bit.  Try something new.  Spend time with a few good dudes.  Maybe have some laughs.  I'm all about new experiences.

Like an idiot, I went to the bar for open mic night and got all sorts of liquored up.  Abnormally so.  And if you've never partied up at 9,000 feet, the altitude is relentlessly unforgiving to the one extra shot of Wild Turkey that seemed like a good idea at the time.  I wake up nice and early the next day.  I haven't quite received the pounding that is inevitable when you drink like a moron.  Overall, at this point, I didn't feel that bad, especially after a delicious breakfast sandwich that I am known to concoct at the employee dining room.  Everything bagel, cream cheese, eggs and bacon.  You really can't go wrong.  Post breakfast, I was told that we were leaving in 15 minutes and that I should go and get my gear and a sturdy pair of denims and meet back at the barn.  What I found out upon my arrival was we were planning an all day trip with packed lunches.  When I first heard about this, I was picturing more of an easy going couple hours on horseback, getting down periodically to clear some brush and twigs.  What I didn't know was that I signed up for an all day excursion with twin chain saws clearing large trees and limbs.  Manual labor.  To be more specific, manual hungover labor.

So I sprint back to the lodge to make a sandwich.  I'm not gonna lie, I gave this sammy a bit of TLC.  If I was going to suffer, at least I would have something to look forward to.  On my way back to the barn, I could see the crew saddling horses and getting everything packed.  I was soon acquainted with my horse, Tango.  I was told to let him get to know me by smelling the back of my hand.  Not sure if I saw this right, but it seemed as if he cringed when smelling my hand.  The alcohol seeping through my pores must have stung his nostrils.  Either way, Tango and I became tolerant of each other and our journey began.

The ride began decently.  I really was able to appreciate where I get to call my office.  The air was cool and crisp, the sun was just barely making its way over the ridge and my hip flexors weren't flaring as of yet.  My moment of bliss was soon interrupted by a swift trot.  I thought for a second that my horse had lagged behind and was trying to catch up to the rest of the fleet, however, it was the entire crew of horses in a solid gait continuing down the trail.  After about 20 seconds I yelled up, "Alright.  This isn't going to be how it is the entire time, right?"  Spencer, the wrangler, looked back and saw me sliding to either side of the saddle, feet out of stirrups and looking completely miserable and decided to slow the pace down a bit.  That's when the pain began.  My head was splitting, my hips seemed like they were ready to explode and when we got off the horses for the first time, my hamstrings suffered uncontrollable spasms and cramps that sent me to my knees.  I swear the human body was not meant to sit on, let alone straddle an animal this large and this wide.  My muscles and joints were shot.  I looked at my watch and noticed that only 27 minutes had gone by and I could still see the ranch.  Dammit!  I was then reassured that we were only a fraction of the way up.  Lovely.

So the day went on, we cleared the trail with the help of two chain saws and lots of water.  I slowly forgot about my aches and pains and began to really enjoy the day.  Aside from Tango leading me into every boulder and every tree causing my legs to get pinned up against two immovable objects and his strange Tourette syndrome bob of the head, causing my reins to continually fling off of his neck, I felt as though I was getting the hang of it.  It wasn't until we finished clearing trail and starting our 8 mile journey back to the ranch, when I started to feel pain once again.  Minutes felt like hours and hours felt like days and I was hurting.  What made matters worse, was when we were reaching the final prairie, one of the ranch hands began to lope.  What I soon found out was that horses are very much followers and the other two guys' horses began to sprint after him.  I bet you can guess what ol' Tango had going through his head.  Before I knew it, my horse was in a full sprint and any confidence I had previously was sitting in a pile of horse shit at the top of the mountain.  Sliding from left to right, I tried my hardest to keep my feet stable in the stirrups and make sure my hand holding the reins was steady.  The other hand was so white knuckled onto the horn of that saddle, that I wouldn't be surprised if my fingers left imprints in the leather.  Once Tango felt as though he had successfully caught up to the other horses, all I could hear were the bellowing laughs of the other three guys.  Since I kind of blacked out throughout the entire process, I wasn't aware as to what was coming out of my mouth.  I guess I kept repeating the word "OK!" over and over again mixed with multiple expletives.  Either way, I made it to the destination in one piece, though I was so unbelievably sore.

This experience proved to me that on a horse I am a fish out of water.  Overall, it was a fun day and we definitely got some work done.  I think horses are beautiful animals, however, I have no need to ever ride one again.  If I have the choice, I'll fish instead.

Me and Ol' Tango

Just four semi-good lookin' desperados who love to party

Change

Change is a funny thing.  It is as ambiguous as it is direct and final.  It is a process that can be out of our control but can also be chosen.  It can have positive or negative effects on our lives and it can be feared or embraced.  Individuals react to change differently, which is why each of us are able to carve out our own unique path and the different experiences we encounter.  In fly fishing, change never sleeps.  The river lives and breathes and is in a constant state of motion, never seizing, relentless.  We, as fisherman, must embrace the change laid out before us and adjust, knowing that failure will always linger, but serve as the all-knowing teacher of veracity and adaptability.  It is change that keeps the fire within burning strong.  It keeps us driven and coming back for more even if we are continually humbled by Mother Nature’s intricacies.   

But, change soars well beyond the confines of the river’s edge.  It is easy to see why change can be terrifying.  The type of change we cannot control haunts every one of us.  It is the shadow we will never escape, looming in the distance until abruptly masking our lives with blinding pain and sorrow.  From the worldly effects of war and terror to the more personal (and often most difficult) effects of depression, divorce, unemployment, foreclosure, sickness and death, change can often be a dish served cold and bitter.  Having experienced most of these already in my life, it is easy for me to understand why we as a society strive to remain stagnant, stuck in a rut of insecurity and fear of the unknown.  We are concerned not only about the pain in our own lives, but the effects of our decisions on the ones we love most.  Many choose to remain still, paralyzed by the fear that their insignificant ripples may spread and develop into capsizing swells of emotion.

For many people, however, change is a welcomed part of life and sought after.  Without change, life for these individuals is left bland and fruitless.  Curiosity and adventure rule their decisions with very little regard to consequence or expectation. There is a willingness to live life on the edge, try new things, to take the leap of faith with no comprehension of who or what is there to catch them other than hope and the inability to accept failure.  

I somehow straddle the line between the yin and the yang of change.  I have always looked to broaden my range of experiences whether it is trying new foods, traveling, learning new hobbies or dedicating my life to a specific skill.  I more recently have ditched a devout path towards medicine, pointed my compass west and enjoyed three years of Montana living only to get hired a year later as a fly fishing guide in Colorado.  What I have discovered about myself is that I love the results and rewards that change creates.  However, as much as I need change in my life, I do dread the transitional process involved.  My moves from Wisconsin to Montana, from Montana back to Wisconsin and now from Wisconsin to Colorado each initially left me feeling alone and overwhelmed by doubt and emotion.  I understand and anticipate the benefit and growth that will result from the process, yet I am abandoning everything that is good about the life I have previously known.  Why do I choose to continually leave, especially when it means leaving my family that I need by my side?  What is it that is driving me to desert the security of the present and seek the unknown future?  Curiosity is a difficult beast to tame.

At this stage of my life, I refuse to not take advantage of my youth and settle.  There are too many stones that are unturned in my life to allow myself to ignore what it is that calls to me.  I don’t want to be the man looking back on his life with regret wishing I had done things differently.  I have decided to take the path that my gut has dictated and embrace the changes, good and bad.  “What if?” can only be answered by exploring what it is in question and hoping for the best.  As we wade through turbulent waters, we can be blinded to the possible stepping-stones laid before us.  If we cannot dedicate our focus toward the other shore with a certain excitement, dedication and optimism, we risk being swept away by the relentless currents of negativity, further keeping us from reaching our lives’ true potential.