Methodically casting a fly rod in a mountain river has always raised my curiosity. Couple this desire with my tendency to take people up on offers to experience the outdoors led to an adventure of catching fish, getting lost and a love hate relationship with casting a fly. My old college roommate (Derek Carey) was slightly surprised when I told him I would be in Bozeman. As fate would have it he was free on Saturday, which would give me one day to test my skills at fly fishing.
Friday night over a couple of beers we discussed different strategies. The conditions of the nearby rivers and what flies might work were somewhat a foreign language to me. In fact the only similarity I could come up with to the fishing I’m used to was the water eventually flowed into the Missouri River. Which is the same river I catch catfish on in Nebraska.
We hatched up a plan to fish the Madison. I put on second hand waders and boots as Derek prepared my rod. I couldn’t help but look at myself in the side mirror of his Silverado and think “holy shit, at least I look like I know what I’m doing.”
We hiked down to the river and Derek immediately started to mechanically cast his fly into the current. I stood awkwardly like the last kid picked in dodge ball not knowing what to do. He recognized my predicament and gave me a 30 second lesson I’m pretty sure he quoted from A River Runs Through It.
Equipped with this new found knowledge I started casting my fly. Judging by the distance the fly was landing from my feet I thought I would probably be better off throwing rocks and hoping for the best. Somehow I managed to get my line to the part of the river I thought a trout might be and watched my strike indicator submerge. I’m not up to par on my fly fishing gear but I feel a strike indicator is the equivalent of a red and white bobber you give a six year old fishing for blue gill at a city pond.
I set the hook and had a fish on. After landing the trout my confidence grew and I remember thinking fly fishing is pretty easy. This confidence quickly eroded by untangling line and never coming close to catching another fish for the next two hours.
After a lull in the activity my fishing buddy wandered back and inquired about my interest of trying a different spot. I immediately jumped at the opportunity to go back to the truck so I could swap out my fly rod for a more familiar spinning rod equipped with a Panther Martin. My eagerness to catch fish surpassed my pride of calling myself a fly fisherman.
The caveat of this new spot was a mile separated the highway and the lake he guaranteed would produce. We maneuvered through willows on what resembled a moose trail. After snagging my lure several times we eventually arrived at our destination. We worked the shoreline towards the inlet of the lake catching the occasional fish. The sun kept getting lower in the west. One more cast turned into three and eventually we found ourselves with about 15 minutes of daylight and two miles between us and the truck.
We contemplated our options. Go back the route we came and risk running into a moose. Or take a short cut up over the mountain in a direct path to the truck. A Wiseman once told me if a shortcut was the best route, it would just be called the way. Unfortunately this knowledge slipped my mind on this particular day.
I quickly realized chest waders are not the best mountain footwear. After ascending a rocky face we found ourselves in thigh deep snow and zigzagging around trees. I pride myself with my sense of direction and I always felt I was heading for the truck. As darkness set in Derek had a different opinion of the direction we should be heading. We found ourselves arguing in the mountain darkness. It was a pivotal moment. Several thoughts raced through my mind. I started to second guess my sense of direction and give into a local. On the other hand I didn’t want to be featured as a rescue story in the Bozeman Daily Chronicle.
As we debated in the dark the moon peaked out from behind a cloud. The moonlight reflected off something glimmering only 100 yards away. My first reaction was it must be a body of water. My second reaction was it must be the highway. The approaching headlights were a dead giveaway. We were saved.
How Does This Apply to Business
In life you will inevitably find yourself in a disagreement with someone. Our argument was pretty heated. He thought he was right. I knew I was right. At one point I remember thinking I had two options:
1. Let him wander off and realize his own fate
2. Tackle him and drag him off that mountain
If you find yourself in a disagreement at home, at work, or lost on a fly fishing trip try these three tactics:
1. Keep an open mind. There is more than one way to catch a trout.
2. Stay calm and clearly articulate your point of view.
3. Remember your core beliefs. Apply these beliefs to the situation. If the other party is going against what you truly believe in you might have to go separate ways.
Until next time, remember You’re Going to Have to Earn It.