We welcome our week 3 guests at The Ridge and during our first night's dinner, we spot a wolf from the cabin window. Surely that is a sign of a good week to come. We are hosting a family with two young girls, the youngest of which asks a million questions about what it's like to be a guide and - by the end of the first day of fishing - concludes she, also, would like to be a fly fishing guide when she grows up. Heck ya. That night, I get the crash course on salmon fishing from John. Big hooks. Heavy splitshot. Some bright-colored glo bug yarn to know the depth of your hook. And the sweeping, flossing hookset. "Ok, so this isn't really fly fishing."
The next day we head to Brooks Falls to bear watch and do some fishing with our guests. After attending "bear school" and receiving my graduate pin, we head to the main attraction. Here, I see my first salmon attempting to jump the waterfall upriver without becoming a bear's dinner. It's pretty spectacular. The rest of the week is a mix of fishing and ecotourism activities, including one stop over at Iliamna River Lodge where I get to see my guide friends over there for a short bit. The weather is now a mix between beautiful, sunny days and cold, wet, windy, and miserable days. I am so tired, but pushing forward.
On our changeover day before the next week's guests arrive, John and I make a fuel run and, on our way back upriver to The Ridge, he radios to me to look down. "What is he talking about?" Then, I see it. Tons of fish, everywhere. "The salmon are starting to run in our river, Becca." Wow, this is amazing. It's good timing, too. Our next group of guests are four men who have been friends for years and are excited to catch salmon. And while I'm excited for the week, I can't help but look forward to approaching our two-week break at The Ridge and returning to Iliamna River Lodge to see my friends again.
Our guests wear all-matching fishing ensembles everyday. I learn that one of the guys put together a packing list for the group and everyone bought the same thing...down to the GoPro and headmount each of them wear on a daily basis. "GoPro, start recording..." I hear this hundreds of times throughout the week. I'm not sure if they ever figured out how to work those cameras. Our first fishing day is on our home river where we will be targeting the salmon we saw the day before. It's an epic day, and also a bloodsport. They catch the salmon, we bonk them, and John gets to filleting. At the end of the day, we take the filets back to The Ridge where we clean them further, and vacuum seal them to be frozen and shipped back with our guests. I smell horrible, and start to lose my excitement for eating fresh salmon for dinner on a weekly basis. During this week, I witness my first rainbow trout eat a topwater mouse and also get to go pike fishing for the first time. Let me tell you, I love pike fishing!
We had such an incredible first day of pike fishing, our guests even handed the rod over to their guide for awhile...and I got to hook up to my first pike. But I should know that a great day isn't over until it's over. On our jet boat ride home through the slough, I crash. And I mean a good one. No one is injured, but my boat is slowing sinking. With the amount of water I have to bail, my small bail bucket won't cut it and I grab my Yeti Go Box, empty its belonging, and use it as a makeshift bail bucket for nearly 20 minutes while I pray that the motor will start once I get this thing back to floating. I'm demoralized. The guests are surprisingly in good spirits about the whole event, but I can barely look anyone in the eye. "Why can't I have just one completely good day? Why?"
Depsite this, tomorrow is another day and I have to run the slough again...with the same guests. "F*$k. Ok, Becca, you got this. Just focus." I make it. And we return to another day of pike fishing since the guests had so much fun the previous day. In those two days, we caught and released over 200 pike. Everyone was happy and had forgotten about my failure the day before (except me, of course...that will forever be burned in my memory).
Before I know it, week 4 has come to a close and me, John, and Macy frantically pack our things for another two-week stint at Iliamna River Lodge. We land and immediately get into the swing of things. I guide rivers I've never been to, and learn more lessons the hard way. Bushwacking through alders when I lose the trail to the river. Ripping my waders on an airplane cleat. And butchering salmon when I try my hand at filleting fish. But there are high moments. I go pike fishing again and my client - a first time fly fisherwoman - lands a 46" pike. One night, Bill - who operates the lodge - dismisses me, Bryson, and Logan from dinner to go sockeye fishing for the lodge and we make a night of it. And a recycling run to the nearest town turns into a "goodwill" shopping experience at the local donation drop-off. I find a silly hat and a coffee mug to take as a souvenir. It's the small things here that matter.
I'm having so much fun that I consider talking to Bill about whether a transfer for the season would be possible, but I chicken out. John knows I'm struggling at The Ridge and understands a change in circumstances might be what I need to fully succeed, but we resign ourself to returning to our lodge and closing out the season as joyfully as possible. It's a tearful goodbye leaving Iliamna River Lodge for what I believe to be the last time. I push away my doubts as to whether I'm cut out for this, pack my things, and get on the plane back to The Ridge. "Embrace your situation, Rebecca. You got this."
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