The day before guests arrive at The Ridge, we scramble to put the finishing touches on our lodge. Then later, John and Macy drive me up the Copper River for one last rowing training session. I'm dropped off, assemble my raft, and row back down to the Ridge...dodging cliff walls, rocks, and other boaters along the way. I am as ready as I can be. Once I make it back, the three of us go out for a fishing session to enjoy the last few moments of solitude before the hustle of our season begins.
As we pickup our first guests and load up their luggage in our jet boats, I am praying to make it through the slough without issue - yes, I've made it just fine several times before in practice....but now the pressure is on. I make it. "Whew." Now to settle in to our routine. We join our guests for their first night of dinner, something we will do every night for the course of the season, then (around 8pm) prepare our gear for the next day of fishing. The next morning, John wakes me up earlier than expected with an emergency. We've run out of propane and our chef cannot make breakfast for guests. Frantically, we wader up, take the 4wheeler down the hill, and jump in our boats to borrow propane from our sister lodge and bring back before the guests wake up. It's day 1 of guiding at The Ridge and I am already feeling stressed.
Our guests are wonderful but the pace at which we operate, and the amount of chores left to do after our workday ends, immediately starts to take its toll. I wonder how this is sustainable. And then there's the fishing. Each day, I am taken to a new river to navigate - by jet boat, by raft, or by foot. The learning curve is steep and the pressure is on to give our guests the trip (and fish) of a lifetime. "Can I do this?"
One afternoon, driving home from a float plane trip, I slide too much in the slough and throw my boat in the tundra...with guests. I feel defeated. The next day we are dropped off at a river for a rowing trip and I learn just how slow I am at inflating and setting up a raft. I have so much to learn and improve on. "Will I get there?" At the end of the day, we are running late to our plane pickup so we back row against the wind through a different slough to our pickup point. Then have to dissemble rafts and gear. I'm smoked. And I'm not having fun yet. "Does this get to be fun?"
On the flight home, I use the last of my phone batteries to listen to music and chill out, knowing once we land it's another jet boat ride through the slough, then dinner with guests, then preparing for the next day. John suggests more jet boat training at the end of the day, but with where I'm at mentally, I tell him I can't do it that night. Thankfully, he understands, and asks how I'm holding up.
I let it out. "I'm struggling." I tell him that if I'm not meeting expectations, I'd like to hear about that from him directly. But he says I'm doing well. We wrap up our conversation and it's now time for bed.
I enjoy sleeping the most here...finally resting my body and (hopefully) healing my injuries. My ribcage still hurts but I think it's getting better. My hands look like hell. And I'm covered head to toe in bruises.
A low point of the week is on another rowing trip. My guest hooks into a gorgeous rainbow and we land it. But, during the process of taking the picture, the fish flops out of my hands. I'm ready to jump off a
cliff. I gather the last shreds of my self respect and float on, doing the one thing you're probably not supposed to do - promising the guest I would redeem the situation and get him a bigger fish. "What was I thinking?"
But the angels of heaven smiled upon me that day...not even an hour later, drifting through a deep hole, I make a fly change and add weight to his rig. He makes the drift and immediately hooks into a fish...a bigger fish. "I will land this fish and make things right." Stressed during the whole fight, I take a deep breathe once the fish hits my net. Now, the picture. I give the fish time to recuperate after the fight. In my mind, I am speaking to this trout, asking him to just remain calm while I lift him up for a quick picture, promising to let him go back home afterwards. On three....one, two, three....I lift him up, John snaps the picture, I set the fish back in the water and let him push off strong. The picture is perfect, and things start to feel like they're looking up.
On to the next week with new guests. That Sunday, before their arrival, we make a propane run that takes entirely too long as we wait for the barge with the propane to arrive. Then we head back to the lodge to get things ready. The water levels in the river have gone down and our boat parking situation gets dicier. I run the boat past The Ridge, cut and lift the motor, jump out and grab the bow from in the water and walk it down to park it out front. "Is anything constant or easy here?"
The guests are very fun, and on the first day of the week I put my client on a 24" rainbow trout. I'm tired, but thankful for the good day. But all good things must come to an end. On another day during the week, we land by float plane in a crystal clear lake. I jump out while the plane is still running, walk the float towards the front of the plane, and (once the pilot cuts the engine and gives me the "all clear") jump in to hold the plane back from shore. Except the clarity of the water deceived me. It was not shallow. I fill my waders, soaked head to toe. Then the jokes start coming at me.
"Becca, when I said you weren't in over your head, maybe I was wrong."
"Ok, John...too soon for jokes."
Later in the week, on a rowing trip, I get pulled into a sweeper, knocking my guests into branches. I watch as my client's hat floats downriver, assuring him I'll buy him a new hat. The low moments just keep on coming. "Can I make it through four months of this?" I hate the thought of quitting, but feel unsure I'm cut out for much more of the demoralization. And I'm so tired.
The second week comes to a close and it brings many tears. I feel weak. I feel ungrateful for this experience of a lifetime. I pray that the Lord would give me strength to persevere, and eyes to see the blessings around me. I pray for healing of my body, as my cuts and bruises are very painful. And I pray for a better attitude. On to week 3.
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