Personally, this has been a monthly occurrence for roughly the last two decades. I honestly don't remember a time that this event was not a part of my life. I've just learned to deal with it. I share this not to gross you out or make you uncomfortable, but to improve your understanding of my personal experience guiding the river green.
Fly-fish guiding while actively rowing a boat 8-10 hours per day for seven months is not easy... not even for the strongest of men. Guides are confined in a small area with two strangers with varying levels of skills and unique personalities. In this confinement, guides must row drifts for these individuals regardless of the weather, wind conditions, or water flows. Simultaneously, guides must pay attention to their surrounding, effectively communicate to these individuals, and maintain professionalism. It's the hardest thing I've even done. Harder than hiking the Appalachian Trail. By the latter part of the season, guides are as battered as the fish. Their skin weathered by the countless days exposed to wind, rain, heat, and sun. Their bodies scream out in rebellion and are only muffled by daily doses of naproxen or ibuprofen. Chronic fatigue becomes the norm. Eat. Guide. Sleep. Repeat.
I was not excluded from this exhausting pattern. Privately, there was an additional element added. Each month I would wake feeling "like a woman". It didn't matter. I could not call-in or get my shift covered. I had to guide. A pair of eager individuals were waiting for me in the parking lot. Those days of corpus luteum degeneration, especially the first two, I found myself cursing my female existence. No words, however, would make the pain subside. Just strong medications and time. I made it through each cycle. Each time, strengthening my resolve that I actually could do this: guide the Green.
Maybe we are stronger than we think?
