Guiding is not an easy job and it often makes me smile when people think it’s a dream job. Spending your days with certain personalities is not all cupcakes and lollipops. Don’t get me wrong, it’s better than most jobs. Work is work, right? I have worked a lot harder for a lot less. In the end, the icing (or scotch) is always sweet. I hate to even think about the countless number of miles I have put on three trucks over the “guide” years. At the end of every tax season, I would gain clear cut clarity on the mileage I put on my vehicle. What’s not easy to gauge, is the number of years I took off my life while pursuing things that swim and don‘t even talk. Oil changes, truck repairs, new tires, boats, gear, and the list goes on… Fortunately, Uncle Sam will give the hardworking fishing guide a tax break.
The Madison, Gallatin, Jefferson, Yellowstone and Missouri - that was the core triangle of rivers we fished. That is not to mention all of the no tell ’em, tomahawk creeks, tiny tail waters and secret gems we only talked about in a soft whisper. We would usually put a blind fold on the client and have them stay low and keep quiet so as not to get shot at. Montana is still the wild, wild west in some respects.
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