"Treat" of the Week

Guest "Treat" by Sam Duprey

Sam in his Camo One Piece, Cowboy Boots, Drinking Jack and Dorada, being hilarious.

Notice his hat.. They kept calling us both Brian.. 

'In December of 2009, 5 months prior to graduating from college, I decided to turn down a lucrative real estate investment job offer to follow my passion- fly fishing. Fly fishing is easily my favorite hobby, and it is the one thing that I always want to do, no matter what mood I am in. I figured working as a fishing guide would be the best job imaginable for me- I would get to fish all the time and I would be getting paid for it.

Week one of my first guiding gig out in Wyoming in the summer of 2010 I accepted the first truth about guiding- the only truth that new guides need to grasp. Guiding is not fishing. Guiding is very different from fishing. And, guiding is a job.

In that first week, I was tasked with teaching a family of 5 how to fish. I have now gotten to the point where beginners are my favorite type of client, but in the beginning that can be a little daunting. On top of the fact that they were complete beginners, they were very rude people, very competitive, and worst of all- they didn't expect to learn how to fish; they expected to catch fish. I took them up to the pond where it is nice and open to get them started so they could get the cast down and hopefully catch a few fish. After 30 minutes of not catching any fish, they insist that: a) there are no fish in the pond; and b) they are too advanced for pond fishing. Great. We had stocked the small pond (maybe 1/2 acre in size) with over 400 catchable to trophy sized rainbows and browns 3 days prior, and these 'advanced' fishermen couldn't cast as far as I can spit. Still, trying to acquiesce, I take them to the river, which is raging from the runoff. Long story short, I spent the next 4 hours running up and down the river between the 5 of them untangling lines, pulling flies out of clothing, getting hooked in the face by one of the parents, and being blamed by each of them individually for the fact that they couldn't catch any fish. Not a great start.

"Quick row down river I want a badass picture in front of the Moia"

But, as time goes on and you guide more, you learn not only how to better teach these people, but also how to better read them. This becomes a crucial skill because it helps you evaluate not only what they can and cannot learn in the time you have together, but what they are expecting out of their experience. However, some parts of a guide's life don't get easier with experience.

For example, Chile. Brian (the co-founder of this blog) and I met when we guided together in Chilean patagonia. When I told my fishing friends I was headed down to work there for a season they were all incredibly jealous. Everyone (including myself) thinks of the great idea of living the eternal summer. Nobody thinks of the possible downsides. I showed up in Chile in November and spent 3 weeks living by myself in the basement of my boss' house. There was no fishing or guiding to be done at that time, and I spent the days wishing I was home with my family for Thanksgiving and mowing my boss' lawn with a weedwacker. When we finally got into the season, we spent the first few weeks removing dirt around our cabin because of the fear of Hanta virus, which was going to be bad that season. That's right, we were literally sweeping the ground outside. Little things like that were not necessarily what I envisioned when I was heading to Chile. Wearing a surgeon's mask for a month because we were afraid of mice was not part of the deal.

On top of the early arrival and terrible living conditions, the wife of our boss, Maike, was a colossal bitch. Pardon the foul language, but I cannot think of another word in my vocabulary to accurately describe this woman. At first she was somewhat tolerable. But her attitude and manner of treating others became so offensive that it seemed to constantly grate on my soul. Our daily schedule as guides consisted of getting up around 6:30, prepping for our trip, rowing guests and guiding all day, coming home and cleaning gear, showering, and entertaining guests until bed around 11:30. The boss' wife's day consisted of doing nothing except occasionally getting supplies for the lodge, and then complaining all day about how hard she works. One day, when we had a small gap between guests leaving and new ones arriving, she had the audacity to complain to me that I wasn't working hard enough while I was taking care of some chores around the lodge. This down time between guests is our only time off as guides because we are with the guests all day, and still we have to do chores all day. Granted, it's a small price to pay to be a guide in Chile. But still, it's about the only free time we have, and the only time I was not open to criticism. Especially from somebody who does nothing. So, after that encounter we avoided each other at all costs until the end of the season. We had a tearful goodbye when I finally left for America- she was crying because she thought I hated her. I died a little bit inside as I lied and said 'sorry I was just missing my home'.

The last anecdote I would like to offer in trying to explain the unknown side of a guide's life is the mistake factor. Guide's make mistakes. If you're lucky, it's a small mistake- like forgetting one particular fly box, or forgetting to pack enough drinks for everyone. If you're unlucky, you will be cold. My last day guiding in Chile the water was the highest it had been all season, temps were in the 40s, it was rainy and very windy. I pulled the boat over in an unusual spot for lunch, as the higher water was taking us downstream faster than normal. At lunch, winds shifted quickly as they are bound to do in Chile, and consequently the boat got blown off shore and into the stream. I started to panic. I could think of one feasible place to wade across the river, and immediately bolted downstream for that spot. But, because of the higher flows, it was too deep to wade. In the freezing cold I had to strip down to my underwear and try to swim 100 yards across a roaring river to save the boss' boat, and all of the guests' gear in the boat. I made it, luckily, but one of the guests' rods got knocked out of the boat in the process, which I had to replace. We spent the rest of the day not catching fish and praying that I didn't get hypothermia. It was a fitting way to end my Chilean career.

I've told these stories to try to explain that there is a much less glamorous side to being a fishing guide that most people don't often think of when they say, "you've got it made- I wish I could have been a fishing guide". Some things you get better at over time as a guide, some things are just the luck of the draw, and some things are the result of sheer stupidity. Still, at the end of the day, it is worth it. Brian and I have discussed this many times before: as a guide it's always easy to complain because the bad parts of the job seem to stick out in your mind more than the everyday great parts that guides take for granted. But as I now work in an office building, I can say that being on a river every single day and teaching people to fish, or helping fisherman get the most out of their experience, is about as rewarding of a job as I can think of. And while there are always things that can be infuriating or frustrating, the overall experience is living a lifestyle that most would kill for. I recently watched a fishing video that had a great quote in it: "there are two types of fly fisherman- those who make it a lifestyle, and those who wish they could." For a year and a half I made it my lifestyle. And, despite the cold swims, the Maikes, and the unreasonable guests, (all of which are inevitably a part of every guide's career) it was definitely worth it.