We were enjoying a warm summer evening at the local farmer’s market, and having a conversation with our table mates. They were visiting from out of town, but had relatives in the area. The woman was opining that her son had learned to fish here, from an old guide, a friend of my dad’s: Roy Senter. Roy was a kind and patient man, who took the time to instill in his young clients a love for and understanding of the river, its beautiful salmonid residents, and the sacred art of fly fishing. The woman was now in Livingston with her grandson, who is very interested in learning how to fish. Roy Senter has been gone for many years now; so she had checked at the local fly shops to find someone for her grandson to learn from. Their only offerings were to book a guide for a drift boat float--turning an introduction to fly fishing into a day-long excursion with a commensurate expense. She lamented, “Where’s my Roy Senter?”
I realized in that moment that she had verbalized the kind of guide I want to be. I want to be people’s Roy Senter. There are guides by the hundreds around this fishing mecca who are licensed to take an angler out in a drift boat on the ever-increasingly-crowded Yellowstone River, and row them to places where the fish may or may not be biting.
There are many aspects to guiding, and, as any in any profession, different individuals like different parts of the job. Hands-down, my favorite part is the instructional piece. I love teaching, always have and always will. I’m an incurable instructor and coach, whether it’s on the river, the ski hill, or in a classroom. I truly love introducing people to an adventure that they might continue for the rest of their lives. I believe that a person’s first experience in a new activity is a key determinant as to whether they continue to pursue it. As such, I view my main priority (besides safety, which goes without saying as a coach’s Number One responsibility,) is the stoke factor: getting clients/students excited about fishing (or skiing, or rowing.) Fly fishing can be overwhelming, with all the specialized equipment, terminology, not to mention the complexities of casting—it’s so important to keep our instruction in manageable-sized bits, tailored to that client’s learning style, motivation and interests. And, an aspect that is often overlooked in fishing--in the rush to get out in a boat, for example--is the importance of giving students enough TIME to process information, ask questions, try new movements, and achieve a workable level of mastery. One of the most common issues I hear, when I ask clients about prior fishing experiences, is that they felt rushed, flustered, and afraid to ask questions. All of this inhibits not only learning, but enjoyment of the activity—and plays a significant role in whether or not they come back.
I want my students to leave the session looking forward to the next opportunity to pursue the activity, realizing that they don’t have to know all there is to know, or have all the equipment before just getting out there. Most of all, I want them to have the confidence that they can continue this pursuit on their own—and not be paralyzed by the fear of “doing it wrong.” I tell folks, “Just get out there and do it; don’t think in terms of right or wrong, but rather look at your efforts on a scale from inefficient to efficient.”
The more we practice, the farther up we’ll move on the efficiency scale. I think Roy Senter would approve.