A River Runs Through My Johnson
August 7th, 2006This weekend I headed up to Vermont to celebrate the bachelor party of my good friend, Teddy Crawford. It was a great idea for a bachelor party – fly fishing, golf, cards, nice sights, etc. Of course, since it was a bunch of dudes without our female companions to guide us, we (well mainly just me) had a little too much to drink. After staying out too late on Friday night, I had a 6:30 am wake up call to go fly fishing with a few Orvis guides – two of which were certified Orvis guides – one of which was not.
The fishing guide assigned to my team was named Chuck, and was the one not affiliated with Orvis. He was from the old school/machismo/tough-guy fisherman mold. It was basically like having an uneducated Bobby Knight barking orders at you about the proper techniques of fly-fishing. For some reason Chuck directed most of his barks at me. It probably didn’t help matters when Chuck asked what skill level we were, and I jokingly replied, “Well I basically taught Robert Redford everything he knows about fishing.” He did not understand that this was a joke. And this set him off on a hate-filled rant. “Robert Redford doesn’t know the first thing about fly fishing!! That little pansy-ass Hollywood false caster would get eaten alive out here!!”
I decided not to mention the name Robert Redford ever again. But Chuck would not let it drop. In between casts, I would hear Chuck yelling at me, “You wanna do your River Runs Through It , Hollywood-style, stand on a rock and do a bunch of pansy false casts, be my guest. But you’re not gonna catch any fish!” Feeling tired, hungover and a little like I was back in high-school getting yelled at my 7th grade basketball coach, I did my best to follow Chuck’s orders. But when I finally got something on my line, the shit hit the fan. It must have been a very large fish, because my rod was bending like crazy. And Chuck was going ballistic: “Don’t strip the line!!! Stop stripping the fucking line, you idiot! What in the hell are you doing?” I had no clue what “stripping the line” meant. But it probably had to do with me pulling at the line with my hand, which is exactly what Chuck had told us to do if we caught a fish. But apparently if it’s a big fish, you aren’t supposed to “strip the line”. I did not know this. And of course, because of my “line-stripping”, my big catch got away.
The minute I realized I lost my fish, I hesitantly glanced over at Chuck to see how he would take it. Not well, apparently. It was as if his star point guard had missed a last second layup attempt in the NCAA Championship game. He grabbed his hat and threw on the ground. Then he sunk his head in his hands and shook his head around violently. “What’d I tell you?” he growled at me. “DON’T.STRIP.THE.LINE.”
Maybe I could impart some wisdom on poor Chuck to calm him down. “Hey Chuckie baby,” I’d tell him. “Don’t forget what my main man, Bob Redford, had to say: ‘All things merge into one, and a river runs through it.’” Then I’d point down to my private region and continue, “I’m referring to this river right here, Chuck. You know: my johnson. You can strip all the line you want here. Oh wait, you’re actually taking me up on my offer. Oh. Well forget what I said.” Luckily I didn’t say any of this. I left all the wisdom to Chuck.
August 7th, 2006 at 9:13 pm
Hi Rob-
I read the above about your experience with an Orvis endorsed guide.
This experience is unsettling and not reflective of the Orvis commitment to customer service. Guides that are endorsed by The Orvis Company are expected to provide an enjoyable experience for their customers.
I am looking into this matter and will get back to you once I learn more. In the meantime, would you happen to know the last name of the guide?
I have emailed you as well.
Thank you!
Sincerely,
James Hathaway
Communications Manager
The Orvis Company
August 7th, 2006 at 11:43 pm
Rob, this is all going to get you killed.
August 8th, 2006 at 9:39 am
Hey James,
I appreciate the note. I feel bad because I didn’t intend to put Orvis in a bad light in my post. I simply wanted to write a humorous anecdote on my blog that I figured would be read by, at most, 10 of my friends. I honestly don’t know the last name of my guide. Yes he was an old-school tough guy, but I mainly found his crazy antics as slightly entertaining. It added to the ambiance. And I actually had a great experience fishing on the water. Orvis did a good job guiding us through and I’ll continue to hold them in a positive light.
Thanks!
Rob Lathan
August 8th, 2006 at 10:22 am
Hey Rob-
I did check into this and the guide, Chuck, has not been endorsed by Orvis for years. I can imagine experiences like the above may have something to do with that.
Chuck lost his endorsement from Orvis three years ago for… big surprise… treating people poorly.
Helping people avoid this type of thing is exactly why we developed the endorsed guide program. An endorsement really is more than an assurance of fly fishing expertise, it signifies a true commitment to customer service.
Please do let me know next time you come to Vermont…
My best to you!
James
August 8th, 2006 at 11:18 am
Cool thanks James. It is now of course apparent that Chuck was not affiliated in any way with Orvis. I think one of the other guides regretably brought him along. But it was really no biggie. I had a great time on the river. And I hold no ill feeling to Orvis in anyway. Orvis is the shizhouse. I’m amazed at their highly efficient customer service. Go Orvis!!!
P.S. I’ve already scheduled a movie screening with Chuck for next weekend. We’re gonna make it a Redford movie marathon. We’ll start things off with ‘A River Runs Through It’ of course, followed by ‘Out of Africa’, and capped off by ‘Legal Eagles’.
August 8th, 2006 at 1:36 pm
I’ll be looking for my invitation!
August 10th, 2006 at 11:52 am
As one of Rob’s 10 friends who read’s this blog, and as Rob’s partner on this trip, I feel compelled to add some supporting notes. Rob’s description of the incident, while comical, is entirely accurate. Another incident involving me personally came about as we were crossing the stream we were to fish. Tough guy Chuck warns us of the perils of crossing a fast-flowing river and the dangers of falling in. I proceed to tell Chuck that I was chicken-fighting champ of my elementary school (this is not a documented fact, but a hard-won if self-appointed title) and it would take a better man than him and the rapid to put me under. After giving me a snide “Don’t challenge me, punk”, Chuck decides to up the machismo factor and gets in my face. “You can fucking die out here, man, you can fucking die!! I once had a guy break a leg fishing in this river!” Well, I’m not sure if it was the river or Chuck left responsible for that poor bastard’s leg, but I decided to let it slide and not take my chances. Viva Chuck!
August 19th, 2007 at 9:51 pm
While this is a hilarious story, it is also the worst possible nightmare scenario for a decent outdoor guide to read. Bittersweet. Funny to tell or hear, but nobody should actually have to experience it.
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