The Three Beverly Hills Attorneys

As a professional adult day care provider and fly fishing guide, I need to be careful about razzing fishing clients on my own blog, even if some of them deserve it. That is why I am offering up this story as a guest post. This occurred long ago when I was in my early 20s and guiding for one of the many fishing lodges on the Kenai River. Fortunately, I now own my own business and handle my bookings directly. Many of my guests return yearly and/or refer their friends and family, so incidents like this no longer happen. No offense is intended toward the many great attorneys out there who work hard so they can fish every chance they can get.

I was supposed to meet three clients at the Kenai Airport arriving on a 9am flight. I waited as passengers deplaned and they did not show up. I called the lodge to inquire if they’d called in, but they’d heard nothing. I waited for the next flight an hour later and still no guys. I figured I’d wait it out for one more. At 10:30, three gentlemen were deposited on the curb by a cab. Could these be my guys? They were standing there in silk jogging suits holding little hand bags. I said, “Are you guys looking for your guide?” They said, “We are here to go to “The Fishing Lodge on the Kenai River”. I said “Which one?” They said, “The Fishing Lodge on the Kenai River.” Apparently they had come in an hour earlier and grabbed a cab, telling the driver to take them to “The Fishing Lodge on the Kenai River”. The cabbie drove them around for an hour and a half. Who knows how many miles they traveled while racking up a steep bill. Knowing the correct name of their destination might have helped.

I got their names and called “The Fishing Lodge on the Kenai River” where I worked. My lodge reached their booking agent and I was somewhat disappointed to find out that they were my guys. I inquired, “Where is your luggage?” They said, “We don’t have any. Our secretary booked the trip and told us that our trip was all-inclusive.” I said, “That’s true, but you still need to bring your own clothes. We are headed straight to the river, already several hours late, and it’s 48 degrees and raining. We are going to have to stop at a sporting goods store so you guys can at least get some rain gear and another layer.”

So I took them into a store where they moaned about having to buy the appropriate gear. We finally got on the river at noon for a float that was over ten miles long. As we launched, the rain quit and they started in about wasting money on rain gear. I advised that they suit up for warmth and to be covered when the rain started again, which it soon did. They didn’t suit up. “It will stop,” they said. Eventually it did, but they were wet, cold and miserable and still complaining about having to buy the stupid raingear. One of the guys produced a bottle of scotch and they proceeded to get drunk and even ruder.

We were fishing for king salmon on the Lower Kenai River in a drift boat after a late start in lousy conditions. It was quickly turning into the boat ride from hell. In the midst of our collective misery and while I was rowing like a mad man to hold the boat in a heavy water slot, the miraculous happened. Two rods went down and two big kings were hooked and ripping line. One went down river toward the ocean liked he’d made a wrong turn, and the other went straight upriver past the boat on a spawning mission not to be derailed. I tried to explain that we needed to chase the down runner if we were going to land either fish. The upper classy fellow with the upstream rocket started screaming at me to chase his fish back up 14,000cfs of heavy water. I politely ignored his request without trying to explain the physics problem. Fortunately his fish self-released while he was seething at me. He refused to reel in his 100yds. of line and it eventually passed the boat, tangled in a sweeper, and I had to cut it off while still trying to navigate around several boulders and stay on the same path as the other fish.

We eventually landed an awesome 55lb. King. At this point, the guys were roaring drunk and going hypothermic, so I felt justified in bailing despite the other two anglers howling about wanting bigger fish than the one their lucky S.O.B. of a friend had caught. On the way down to the landing, they screamed at every boat we passed and complained about lousy fishing. The hour long ride back to the lodge was a real joy. At dinner that night, two of the guys got into a fight and broke some dishes and pretty much scared the other guests.

At breakfast the next morning, I explained that the sockeye salmon fishing on the upper Kenai was really good and that if they were willing to try fly fishing, we could have an action filled day. I figured that even a drunken lawyer from LA could hook some sockeyes the way they were running until they said, “We know all about fly fishing. We just saw that movie.” Right…

So I floated them down to a nice gravel run where sockeye were streaming past. We were set up with 8-wt. fly rods and 300 grain Teeny Lines. I explained the concept of drifting the fly deeply and swinging it across the path of the fish. No false casting necessary. This is a heavy sinking line. Just flip it upstream, roll cast to redirect the angle and lead it back down with the rod tip. My demonstration drift was interrupted by an energetic chrome sockeye. “We know what we’re doing,” they scoffed and the pain fest began. I have never witnessed such careless flogging. No attempts at ordered casting were made and my vain tries at demonstrating the proper technique kept resulting in me hooking more fish. After three tries, I gave up and spent the next hour untangling lines from rocks, vegetation, myself, themselves and pretty much everything but the hundreds of fish that were streaming past.

Finally, one of the guys paused mid flog to take a breath, and his line sank just enough to hook a fish in the dorsal fin. Off it went like a scalded cat, while he yowled as his fingers were battered by the whirling reel handle. I pretty much figured I would lose the fly line without rapid response, so I sprinted down the bar, caught the fly line and drug in the hapless fish, quickly releasing it.

When I walked back up to the guys, they were lined up waiting. “What the f**! do you think you are doing letting our fish go?” I explained that the fish was foul hooked and not a legal catch and that by regulation, we were required to release it. “We don’t give a g** d@^ $*!+about your f*^(!n fishing regulations.” I tried to remain calm while explaining that despite their feelings, I was a fishing guide and my job is to follow the regulations. Under no circumstances was I going to break the law for them. They made their disregard for regulations quite clear and challenged me with their legal expertise. There was more F**! piece of s**! Alaska regulations don’t means S**! to me, before I said, “Let’s go try another spot.” I floated straight to the landing and left them there while I hiked to the road and hitchhiked back to the lodge. I found the lodge manager and explained the situation. He went back and picked them up and they were on a plane home the next day.

These guys win the award for the worst clients ever. Their award is banishment from Alaska for life. They seriously made me question the guiding profession. I’m glad I did not waiver and I’ve now enjoyed many years and hundreds of the Best Clients Ever. There have been unique experiences impossible to enumerate, shared with many great people in some very special places.

If you fancy your shot at being a Best Client Ever, one of his fantastic t-shirts, or just more of his adventures and wisdom, you can find Fred at the aptly named Mystic Fishing.

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Looking for a chance to get away from it all this spring (Dates TBC) ? I am looking for a clutch of guinea pigs to join me on an exploratory trip to Argentina.

The three locations we are looking to visit are:

Cordoba

World famous for its dove shooting and the enormous number of birds it produces, most of us have heard about this area – Cordoba makes every list of the top places to shoot before you die. Not wishing to cast aspersions about your health, but life is short and this trip is cheap. Why not make it this year?

Northern Patagonia

This relatively new fishing destination offers truly wild rainbows and brownies in a spectacular setting. Couple this with a luxury lodge and you have a memorable adventure.

Tierra del Fuego

When you fish the rivers of the sea trout capital of the world, even the average fish is the fish of a lifetime. We will be fishing the River Menendez were the fish average 16lbs. So pack those 8 and 9 weights and start eating your spinach!

You don’t have to do all three locations. Just pick the one(s) that appeal to you. This is a trial trip so the prices will never be beaten. For more information drop me an email.

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In the process, Orvis have made Phil a much better salesperson: he has more in common with his customers having experienced the elation of playing a trout. And he’s beginning to understand just how personal rod selection can be, and why having the right fly can make all the difference. I look forward to hearing tall tales of fish lost and those caught from Phil for years to come. So if you are passing the Stockbridge store, pop in and give Phil some stick.

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Having grabbed a few days holiday (ie. scouting trip for future packages), I packed my five weight Frequent Flyer and headed to the Austrian Tirol with my wife.The advantage of a second wife is you realise the importance of choosing someone tolerant of ones foibles and predelictions. I picked a game model happy to slog along lake shores to photograph my successes, supply flies, and sherpa kit.

Finding ourselves on the shores of the Heiterwanger Plan See, I took the opportunity to explore the waters rod in hand. According to the local fishing club, the lake, 200 feet deep in places, boasts trout and whitefish to double figures. Needless to say, fishing from the shore I caught slightly smaller specimens, the best being a 3lb+ wild rainbow. Admittedly, my tackle was a poor match for the situation, having anticipated stream and river fishing and not lake.

My German extends to the ordering of two sizes of beer. While equipped for discssing philosophy, my mini OED-German dictionary exhibited a paucity of terms for wildlife (although I can tell you the German for ‘paucity’ is wenigkeit). Add to that the extremely silver appearance of everything I hoicked from the water, and it became a challenge to ID my catch. Anyone who is interest in being a guinea pig on an Austrian expedition, or who can tell me more about the mysterious ‘renke’, please get in touch.

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