My Guy

The phone rang the other day, and I saw it was a California number. As I answered, "Hello, this is Russ," thinking it might be a potential client, the response that came was one that warmed my heart. 

 "Hello, Russ. This is GG."

GG actually called me the first time last year as she was planning a trip with her grandson, Leo. He was fourteen at the time. They do a trip every summer to various places just to spend some time together and hopefully build some memories that Leo will have to cherish when she is gone. I think she's also trying to give him something he doesn't get at home and offer up some experiences that might get him off his devices for a while. Regardless, GG is an amazing grandmother and someone I can't even begin to express how much gratitude and respect I have for. 

The first time we talked, I was acutely aware that this was probably not going to be a normal trip with dudes that have gone on fly fishing trips in the past and have some assemblance of how it all works. As guides, and outfitters, we take calls and just by human nature, we try to get some sense of who our clients are going to be and what it's going to take to offer what we can to make the most of the trip for them. And to be totally honest, we're also trying to protect ourselves from getting into a contract with someone that is going to create way more work than it's worth. We all fantasize about booking that client that can actually fish and can pay for a dozen trips or so a year where all a guide has to do is tie flies on and say, "Put it there." The reality is those clients only make up about one percent of the population of potentials. 

This reminds me of a conversation I had with a buddy at the brewery one day. He was pretty fed up with his job, even though he is very successful, and was more venting than anything when I suggested he could start rowing for a living. His response was that the only way he would do that is if he could only take out good anglers and to his credit, he knew that wasn't the way things worked so he didn't really think guiding was in his future.

"You got it all wrong, dude," I explained. "Guys that think they can fish are so much harder to please. They think they should be catching 30 fish on dry flies every day and when they don't, it's always either your flies that don't work or we're not fishing the right spot or whatever it is outside of their own ability or lack of ability and/or willingness to listen. Beginners are easy. You teach 'em a few things, get them into a few fish and the rest is gravy. You just have fun with them."

To be fair, it can be a little painful watching someone flail all day long and not catch fish. Especially when you see other people hooked up all over the river. But every time I start getting frustrated, I place myself in their shoes and realize that they must be feeling it too. Then the focus shifts to small successes and sometimes even just getting a few opportunities can spark a change and can catapult an angler into something clicking. Hours of practice with some failure and some frustration morphs into a few hook-ups and then eventually a couple grip and grins that last a lifetime.

So, getting back to GG and Leo, it was obvious that success on this trip was probably going to be defined a little differently. And without even meeting them, who knows how motivated Leo would be to learn or even how important the fishing was going to be. I've had 20-year-olds that were only there for their parents and never picked their heads up from their phones while on the river. I had one guy, an ex-football player, who just wanted to chat all day and talk philosophy, which was actually one of my more memorable guide trips. Maybe all Leo will care about is catching a fish and calling it good. I might even throw a spinning rod in the boat just to bring a fish to the net. The thing is, GG booked four days with me...that's a lot of time in the boat with someone if they're not really into the fishing.

I picked GG and Leo up on the morning of the first day at their hotel. The ride to Craig gave me a chance to assess the situation and develop a plan. Leo was into fishing and talked about fishing with his buddy and his buddy's dad. They never fly fished but Leo's buddy's dad had taken fly trips in the past, which is why Leo wanted to come out to learn to fly fish in the first place. He had other options. GG would have pretty much taken him anywhere he wanted to go but he chose fly fishing so that right there is huge. 

I took them up to the dam below Holter on day one. I just wanted to get Leo to hook a few fish sooner than later and knew that would probably give us the quickest path to success. GG was happy just to hang out in the back of the boat and take photos. In fact, I don't believe she even picked up a rod on that first day. It was all about Leo and I will say, he was into it. When that first hot rainbow broke him off, Leo was determined. Actually, maybe a little too determined as his desire to land a fish superseded his patience for learning, which was a great opportunity to dial things back a bit and bring some perspective to the process. 

Fly fishing often mirrors life and within the lessons learned from catching a fish, we can almost always apply those lessons to other areas of life where we are challenged. When a 20-inch rainbow takes off like a bat out of hell across the river, it's easy to panic and want to gain control of that fish. When they run, we pull back. When they punch, we punch back instead of getting in control of the only things we can control. 

"When that fish takes off, Leo, you just gotta let 'em do their thing," I would reiterate. "The only thing you should be focused on is your line and the bend in your rod. If he runs, let 'em run. If he comes back to the boat, put some pressure on him. Eventually, you'll win that battle. Not always but as soon as you learn to control what you can control and not worry so much about controlling that fish, you'll start landing some. I promise." 

We fished our way around the bend and onto the grass flats. There's about a 50-yard run that holds a ton of fish. The guides all know there are fish there, it's just getting the right bugs in front of them with the right presentation. We were struggling on that front--not because Leo wasn't doing his part but because these fish had gotten a lot of attention over the summer, and they wanted nothing to do with what we were serving up. We pulled the boat to the side and started walking through the different variables that were at play. Water level, pressure, and bugs. 

"Dude," I got Leo's attention. "You see all those fish when we're going through the flats out there? How deep are they? Where are they hanging out?" 

We talked through the process and together decided they might be hanging out looking for damsel fly nymphs just off the edges of the grass in super shallow water. We needed to change things up and after making the adjustments, Leo started hooking fish after fish but still not landing them. 

Again, we pulled the boat over and as I dragged us back upstream for another run, talked about technique and what we were going to do to actually land a few of these pigs. Let me just say this, these fish are big and hot and even though our lead fly was a big damsel fly nymph, most of the fish were eating the tiny midge trailing the damsel fly, which puts all the advantage on the fish. Landing them is no joke but Leo was all in and instead of getting frustrated, we were going to figure this shit out. 

"Hey dude," Leo asked. "Instead of stripping line in, can I try to get them on the reel?" 

"Yeah, you can try that," I said. "Just remember, when that fish takes off, it's not a spinning reel so if you don't let go of the crank, they'll break off."

Just as we got to the top of the run to take another crack at it, two guys in kayaks pulled in front of us, parked their vessels, and jumped out into the run we were fishing. These two guys did the same thing to us about an hour before, upstream in the first run we were fishing. Trying not to lose my shit I told GG and Leo I was going to go talk to these guys before getting back to fishing. I knew this conversation was probably not going to go well, which is why I left Leo and GG at the top of the run so they couldn't hear the exchange that was about to ensue. 

As I approached the first guy, I greeted him with, "Hey, how's it going?"

"Oh, pretty good," he said. 

"Awesome. Here's the deal," I said, which I'm learning, probably sets a person up for bracing against what's about to come next. "You saw us fishing this run. You saw my guy hooked up a few times. I understand I don't have any more right to the river than you guys do but how about giving us a little space?"

"I don't understand why all you guides think you own the river," was his response, and as he started lecturing me more about river etiquette, waving his arms and pointing at me. I stopped him.

"Hold on a second. Before you start lumping all of us together, let me just tell you that I don't fish up here much because of this kind of bull shit. You saw us fishing here. You have the entire fucking river to fish, but you park right here where we were getting into them. You two guys block the entire run from anyone else fishing it. You did that to us upstream and we bailed just to give you guys some space but then you do it again and all I'm asking for is a little consideration." I continued, "I've got a 14-year-old kid who's never landed a fish on a fly rod. I'm just trying to get him to bring one to the net and you guys are fucking it up. So, who's being the asshole here?"

"So where are we supposed to fish?" He asked.

"I don't care," I said. "You have kayaks. You have the entire river to fish. You can go anywhere but to jump out right here while we're fishing this run? Come on dude." 

If you haven't been to the Missouri River, it is big. In that one stretch along the grass flats, the river is easily 120 yards wide. Fish do get stacked up in spots but there are literally 6 to 7 thousand fish per river mile on that stretch. I was only asking to fish this one 50-yard run where we knew there were fish, and we had figured some things out.

He pointed to a couple overhanging Russian olives a couple hundred yards downstream and asked, "So if we go down to those trees? Can we fish there?"

"Go for it," I said. "We're not laying claim on the entire river. But you saw us fishing here. I'm just asking for the same level of respect and consideration that we gave you guys earlier."

With that I turned to go back upstream to the boat and to GG and Leo. The two anglers walked down to the Russian olives. As I got into the boat, Leo gave me a look of like, "Awesome."

"Alright," as I picked up the anchor. "Go ahead get it back out there and get ready." 

On that next run along the grass flats, Leo landed his first fish and from there, he became a machine. He landed a couple more in that run and then I told him it was time to head downstream. His success was attributed to a few things. He definitely learned a ton in the first few hours and built on his successes. His confidence skyrocketed. And he developed his own style of landing fish that worked for him. 

As we passed by the two anglers, I thanked the guy and he started back in on me, "I still don't understand why you guys think you own..."

I stopped him again and said, "It's alright dude. You never will understand so let's just leave it at that."

The next day we fished downstream, GG hanging out in the back and Leo getting better and better at managing his line, casting, presenting a fly and landing fish--lots of fish. It got to the point where there was very little coaching going on from me and more just pointing out subtleties in the river, recognizing where fish would hang out and then I would watch as Leo put a cast in the right spot and would get bit. The hard part was over and now the benefits of meeting the challenges with newly developing skills was a joy to witness. Eventually, GG picked up the rod and got schooled by a couple monster rainbows, but then she put the attention back on Leo and let him have the day. 

On day three, Leo and I headed out to the Blackfoot for some wade-fishing. Knowing how difficult it would be for GG to keep up, she decided to take a break, so Leo and I headed out on our own. GG asked me to make sure Leo kept off his phone. I told her I would make sure he wasn't on it all day. 

We drove off. It was early and I didn't get much sleep the night before. My head was heavy, and I wasn't really feeling like being all that social. I definitely wasn't all that enthused about entertaining Leo for an hour while we drove over the Divide and into the Blackfoot drainage. 

"Hey, your grandma wants me to make sure you're not on your phone but honestly, I'm a little groggy and would like to just veg out on some sports radio while we drive, so you do you and we'll keep that to ourselves." 

Leo shrugged, picked up his phone and checked some messages and then put the phone down. We spent the next hour talking about music, video games and gaming all night and how that keeps you from doing other things like fishing, and dating. Yeah, we talked about girls too. I actually asked him what girl wants to be with a guy who stays up all night playing video games and then sleeps all day? 

"Fair enough," he said. 

At one point we were talking about bear spray and bears and why I don't carry a gun. I told him I would give him an idea of how potent bear spray is by spraying a millisecond blast of it on the ground and just being near the area, he'll understand. We both almost puked. Lesson learned. 

He then asked, "I wonder how different the day would be if my grandma was here?"

"Well," I said, "You wouldn't be throwing the f' bombs you are." 

He said, "You wouldn't be telling those stupid jokes."

"Fair enough."

We laughed quite a bit that day. Leo caught some good cutties on dries and then decide he wanted to go swimming. Perfect. 

(As a side note, that's Leo in the photo above. That's day three of ever holding a fly rod in his hand. Tell me he doesn't look like a pro.)

Day four, we went back downstream on the Missouri through the Canyon and out to Pelican Point. The goal was to catch a big 'ole brown. In fact, I asked Leo what he wanted, whether it was going back up to the dam where the most fish would be or targeting some monsters downstream, knowing the fishing might be tougher. It was his choice, and at that point, I knew I had got him. 

We did catch a few decent fish and a bunch of smaller ones when we got right to the end of the section and Leo hooked a toad of a brown. This thing was massive and as Leo put some pressure on him, it took off like a torpedo. I think there was just so much adrenaline pumping through Leo that he gripped the reel; the rod tip went straight down to the water and the brown broke off. 

Leo looked back at me with complete and utter disappointment in himself. 

"Dude!" I exclaimed and then chuckled and then groaned. "That..."

All I could do is give him the look that finished what I started to say. We sat there for a second or two just letting the thought of that fish suspend in the air. 

"Oh my god," he said. "That was huge!"

"Yep," I agreed. "That's the one we were looking for."

There was really nothing to say at that point. Leo knew what happened. That lesson was for him and only him to process and it was my job to talk him off the ledge. 

"It's ok, dude. Still got more river. There's another one out there." 

Leo hooked another and then another and finished strong. But every fish he caught from that point on, all he could say is, "Not as big as the brown."

Here's the thing; if Leo didn't have that reaction, I don't think it would say as much for just how into the fly fishing he found himself. Missing that fish was definitely disappointing and I'm not going to say this as some effort to squeeze a little bit of lemonade out of the river. But the fact that he cared so much and then was so eager to redeem himself is telling and impressive. He could have gotten angry or down on himself or taken some kind of victim stance and blamed the reel or the fish or something, but he didn't. All he cared about was getting another one and even though it didn't happen, he still thinks about that fish, not so much as a failure, but a challenge and hopefully an opportunity to eventually come out on top. Fuck that fish. There will be another one either today or tomorrow or next year and he damn-well is going to be ready for it.

That brings me back to the phone call from the other day. 

"You know, Russ," GG said. "Leo and I were planning our summer trip, and he said he wants to come fishing with you again. Do you still have some availability for next summer."

"You're god damn right I do," I thought to myself.

"And if you're not available, Leo said he'd rather go somewhere else," she filled me in.

So yeah, my guy is going to get another crack at that big-ass brown and this time, I'm betting on Leo. 

Keep 'em where they live...

P.S. I don't have kids. I always wanted them, but it never came to fruition. I know, people always say it's not too late, that men can have kids into their 70's if they want but what they fail to realize is that would take finding someone young enough that would want to be with an old bald fishing guide that doesn't have a ton of money or any sort of retirement plan that doesn't include driving a golf cart around telling people to get their asses moving. And I'm not going to have kids with someone I'm not crazy about, so giving the attributes I require along with the deficits I also enjoy, the pool is not all that deep. I know I'm being hard on myself but when people point out that Clint Eastwood and Robert De Niro had kids in their 60's and 70's and Al Pacino had his last at 83, I have to also point out that these are famous rich dudes. Because of that, maybe these guide days mean just a little more to me than they might for other guides. Maybe... I know this; this particular trip will stay with me for a long, long time and I'm so appreciative to GG and Leo for allowing me to be a part of their family and their memories that will last a lifetime. I'm definitely looking forward to this summer.