The making of legends of the fall

AS AN ELDER MEMBER of the outdoors community, I have always felt an obligation to teach others the basic skills that outdoor magazines and television shows typically ignore.

In fact, over the years, I have built a reputation for being good at this, too. Heck, it has got to the point that, these days, every time I go near water, outdoorsmen and women stop what they are doing and whisper, “Hey, there’s Steve! This ought to be good!”

Needless to say, I do my best not to disappoint.

And that’s why I demonstrated a “classic face-first fall” in the ice-cold flow while wading for trout last Friday.

Between you and me, a less committed outdoors educator might have mailed it in. They might have thought that mere verbal communication would have drove home the lesson about the many risks posed by the combination of slick rocks and a wading boot whose outsole has separated at the toe. In that boring talk, they might have also paid lip service to the danger of that faulty boot clutching passing, unseen sticks as you wade.

But I happen to be com-

mitted to teaching and, over the years, I have found that people learn better from practical demonstrations than from theory.

If the undivided attention I got from everyone on the river was any indication, this proved correct.

I had them from the word splash!

How good was the demonstration?

Well, how many teachers do you know who get multi-minute standing ovations?

Normally, I would have ended the lesson there. But, as I made it to shore with ice-cold water dripping from the brim of my hat and rising inside my waders, I could see that those in the front row had a thirst for learning.

And, frankly, experienced teachers like me love it when our lessons inspire our students to ask questions they have never asked before.

The first one was, “How can an angler get so completely soaked when wading in eight inches of water?”

Or “It appeared that you levitated for a full three seconds after you breached the surface, what caused that?”

Even as I was digging deep into my waders to ensure I did not unintentionally go over limit with errant fish that might have scurried in, the questions kept coming.

“Your expensive cell phone isn’t waterproof. Why does it still work?” asked one perceptive student.

It was then that I referred her to the question about why abrupt levitation takes place.

Shortly, thereafter, I extended the lesson by being the only angler in that stretch of water to catch a trout. Not to brag, but the skill I demonstrated in doing so, caused many of the more serious anglers to mumble vows to take up golf or some other activity that might normally offer a better chance of catching a fish than the technique I just used.

And, again, the fact that I caught one caused them to ask more questions such as, “Is it common for fish to suffer from severe mental disabilities?”

The point here is I gave back to the outdoors community yet again. And while I am quite happy to do so, I think it would be nice to see other veteran anglers and hunters make an effort to do the same every now and again.

I suspect the owners of our local golf courses would agree.