Combat Salmon Fishing

In the Great Outdoors, when it comes to either fishing or hunting, participating woman are the minority.  Meaning, for every 10 or 20 guys, you might discover one lady tucked into the group giving the activity a whirl.

In my experience, usually that one lady is there by conversion effort rather then true individual desire. Meaning, a guy started dating a lady that had never fished or hunted and he told her that’s what he was into….. in turn she automatically gushed, “OH, I love the outdoors.” Translation “OH, if you love the outdoors, I’ll learn to love fishing or hunting, at least until we are married anyway.” ~~For the record, loving the outdoors and loving fishing/hunting are two different balls of wax, I’m just saying ~~I liken the conversion ladies to—-Eventual Weekend Fishing and Hunting Watchers & Widows.

Conversion ladies gets the full treatment. The men will put in an impressive effort to take care of these gals, tying bait, fixing snags, carrying a backpack etc….. Guys become quite the gentleman in a zone where typically they can relax and flex their manly instincts. Bless their little hearts, these guys want desperately for their ladies to love what they love……….

And then there are a few of us gals participating in the rougher side of the outdoor league that are there, not to impress a guy, but because we want to be there. I’ll call us few, The True Bloods. A True Blood will go fishing all by her lonesome self without the need of a male babysitter and love every second of it.

My Bambino Jack Salmon

I’ve noticed, we True Bloods get treated differently out there in the testosterone zone. Once the guys realize we can handle our own equipment, that we aren’t there by association and we are just as competitive and focused as they are, we earn “honorary guy status”…….all the veils fade and the censor chips are tossed into a deep crevice.

When guys absorb that I’m not going to go all hormonal on them, they will first let the cuss words fly. Oh lordy these guys can cuss when they get going. Sometimes I think there should be a new cussing credential that soars past typical trucker cussing. If I say, “Dude, you cuss like a salmon fisherman” that means you could roll grandpa, twice, in his grave with profanity. I never flinch when the profanity flies. All part of the experience in acceptance.

Once a gal has passed the profanity test, nothing seems to be off limits in this honorary status. Guys jump straight to scratching their balls at random and spitting off the river bank without shame in front of a True Blood. In my experience complete acceptance is when the guys seem to forget I have ovaries and pee at random near me. I can’t write how many times I’ve glanced over from a campfire or riverbank and witnessed a guy water painting circles in the dirt. Now if I could just figure out how to pee in front of the guys without exposing my ass to the world, all would be equal and balanced.

I understand some may translate all that I’ve written as crude behavior on guys part, but for me, I see it as a time when everyone can let loose, forget the constrains of city life, pressure, expectation and presumptions. In the rougher outdoors, there is a different set of rules everyone abides by, an honor code and that code has nothing to do with Emily Posts etiquette book.