Former Kansas Governor Sam Brownback measuring a Kansas bluegill.

I started work at my law firm on June 1, 1984, and I’ve been there ever since. I don’t know how long exactly that is, it’s now April 2020 and I’ve run out of fingers and toes for counting. It’s a pretty long time. I bet I’ve practiced law more than I’ve done anything else except sleeping and being married to Kris. I guess over 60-odd years I’ve slept more than I’ve practiced law, but mostly I’ve managed to keep the two separate for a proper work-sleep balance. I’m a good lawyer. I’m also good at sleeping. As for being married to Kris, I guess I must be perfect. She hasn’t bothered marrying anybody else during that time.

Stuck at home during the pandemic I’ve had time to take stock, and I’ve decided it’s time to chuck lawyering. It’s time for a new challenge, something where I can make some real money. I’ve decided to quit practicing law and hang out my shingle as a fly fishing guide. 

I’ve fished with a lot of guides, and one thing I’ve realized is that money-wise fly fish guiding must be about the best thing going, better than lawyering, better than just about anything that doesn’t involve trust funds and inherited wealth. Think about it. Fly fishing guides work hard.  Everywhere except Florida guides have to make lunch. They have to get up early and go to bed late.  They have to have a general notion of where they are, even when it’s foggy. Most of all they have to put up with extraordinary anglers like me, who know that my failure to catch fish has nothing to do with my skill, and that my failure is their fault.  

Guides could only put up with that sort of stuff for the money. Lots of money. More money than just about anything short of hedge fund management, and I bet these days even hedge fund managers are sucking air. Those fishing guides are out there getting rich while we’re sitting in our office on the phone and reading emails. Do you know how many emails I get most days, and how many of them are asking me questions that take work to answer? Chuck it. Like I said, fish guiding must be about the best thing going.

Where will I be guiding? That’s been a tough question.  I thought about here in Houston, but I’d hate to take all the business from local guides; I thought about trout country, but I don’t really like the cold; and fishing guides in the Florida Keys always get shot and die.   Nothing hooked me until I thought of Kansas.

Kansas.

If you’ve fished much you know some fly fisher who’s been to Patagonia for sea-run browns, or to Mongolia for Taimen, or to the Farquahar Atoll for whatever’s on the Farquahar Atoll. But think about it: how many anglers do you know who have made a special trip to Kansas? It’s the last fishing wilderness, the last of the world’s exotic destination fisheries.

There is not a single fly-fishing guide in Kansas, so I sense real opportunity. Since I’m an expert on supply-side economics, I know that consumption follows supply. If I produce the goods in Kansas, consumers will be there to buy them. All I have to do is show up with a truck and a boat and a couple of rigged fly rods and after that it’s all gelt, wampum, moolah, and a life of ease. Plus Kansas is far from the rising seas so I don’t have to worry about global warming. It’s already got enough tornadoes and dust storms and drought and hail and locusts that changing weather patterns can only be to its benefit. Like they said in that movie about that Kansas corn field, if you build it, they will come.

Kansas. 

Of course I’ll have to start rooting for the Chiefs, but that’s easy since they just won the Super Bowl for the good people of Kansas. 

What will I guide for? Apparently Kansas has a spectacular sunfish fishery.  Kansas sunfishing may be better than sunfishing in the Amazon Basin or Kamchatka. It’s not very well known, but I’ve been told it’s legendary. You can talk about your Caribbean permit, or your Florida tarpon. You can talk about Olympic Peninsula steelhead or Alaska salmon or Pyramid Lake cutthroat. None of those hold a candle to Kansas bluegill. Bluegill in the 20-pound range are common, and the longears . . . You should have been here two days ago.

See? I’m practicing my guiding.

I’ve been working on my Kansas sunfish leaders: they involve 40 pound butt sections and 60 pound bite tippet, and are 14 feet long because of the bluegills legendary skittishness. They’re strung together with Bimini twists and blood knots and huffnagles and some spare links of an iron chain I found in the garage. I originally thought 9 weight rods would be the very thing, but now I’m thinking 11 weights? From what this guy I know told me we’re talking big game here. These are powerful bluegill that always run you into your backing. Any reels without heavy duty saltwater drags are worthless.

I haven’t told Kris about my plans yet, but I have bought a house in Kansas, in Elmdale. I bought it online, and from the pictures it may need a little work. Whatever, I know she’ll be thrilled, and Elmdale ought to be remote enough for these troubled days. The guy who sold me the house said that of course there were fish near Elmdale. He reminded me that the whole area was once an inland sea. I paid his asking price, which was very reasonable, not too much more than what houses go for in my neighborhood, and with plenty of character. This is going to be so popular that I think I may go with the Florida model and let clients bring their own lunch. Apparently there’s no grocery store in Elmdale, so bringing lunch from Wichita probably works best anyway. It’s only 70 miles.

I’ve let the major manufacturers know I’m available for their pro staffs, and I’m waiting to hear from them. I think the Abel series of Kansas sunfish reels are pretty nifty, and I’m trying to decide whether the new Orvis Recons will be sufficient or if I need Helios 3s. You can’t skimp when you’re chasing Kansas bluegill.

When you’re ready to fish Kansas, inquire within. We’ll be on Main Street in Elmdale.