OK, I’m just going to come right out and say it: I sucked at guiding. Oh, my clients caught plenty of fish. But if I were a doctor, you might say I had a lousy bedside manner. Or what an old coach of mine often referred to as a “piss-poor attitude.” The fact is, I could never stop thinking about whether or not various clients deserved to catch fish just because they could afford to travel and stay at an expensive lodge. That, and I was frequently impatient. And sarcastic. And irritable. But enough about my good days.

The river is going out. Big time. Sure, it’s been raining since the helicopter dropped us off six days ago and seventeen miles upriver, but only enough to ensure that everything we own is wet. A week of dripping tents, soggy sleeping bags, and wrinkled fingers isn’t so bad when the river’s green.