One of the things I love about life and fishing is that you never really know how it will turn out. Oh sure you have a plan, but luckily it rarly turns out that way. Most of the successful people I know have acquired the skill of winging it, fly-fishing requires that same ability to adjust and overcome conditions that are unexpected.

 Which brings me to Ballroom Dancing.

This last winter was a long one for me, fishing was not very good and there was no tropical respite it was just cold and gray. I tried to get some painting done in the studio but there again I was uninspired. Sometime in January my fellow troutbum Chris’s wife Barb talked to my wife Liz about taking Ballroom dancing lessons. Women love this kind of stuff.

There conversation went something like: would Randal take lessons? Thus shaming Chris into going along down road of dancing lessons. Something he had said many times was out of the question. Never say never.

 The timing was perfect, at this point of the winter I was at my lowest ebb and would have taken up small engine repair for something to do. I mentioned the dancing lessons to Mark, he immediately burst out that he was on board and with a weird kind of light in his eyes he said it would be fun. The Troutbums were dancing. 

The course was one night a week for six weeks, how bad could that be? Here’s what I learned. One: I am not much of a dancer; in fact there is no dancing in me. Two: It was really fun in a frustrating sweaty kind of way. Three: Chris and Mark are like dancing savants. Four: My wife is a saint. These are all good things for a grown man to know.

What I took away from the experience is priceless. The instructors Jim and Nan were incredibly patient and low key trying to get my concrete feet and wooden legs to find the steps: I never could. On the last night as we were leaving Nan came up to me and told me in a hushed voice, “You are a brave man” I leave the translation to you.

I find myself thinking about those lessons when I’m in the boat with clients that can’t seem to get seem to learn how to cast a fly rod. I think about their frustration trying to get the timing of the back cast, or throwing a little loop to extend a drift. Things that are natural to me, lessons I’ve learned over time.

Will I be taking dancing lessons next winter? Heck yes. Just the exercise in humility is worth the price of admission.