Mark Twain once said. "I never let the truth get in the way of a good story".

A few years ago I was in a tackle shop when I bumped into another guide I had not seen for a while. Now guides have a propensity for stretching the truth and some are really good at it. George brought it to an art form. Anglers who spend a great deal of time with guides almost expect fabrication. They commonly refer to it as "guide talk." I am not going to tell you it doesn't happen. If you want to really want have some fun, try sitting in on a guide meeting sometime when one of the boys decides to tell about HIS fishing. It isn't long before the "That ain't nothings" start flying. It can get pretty deep - pretty fast.

As a casual observer in the guiding business for the past 15 years, I have noticed there is actually two types of liars. The first is the Bald Face Liar or (B.F.L). This is the guy who can stand toe to toe, look you right in eye, and just flat out lie.

I am reminded of a time fishing with a long time client on the Sauk River. We had just released a really nice steelhead, when another guide boat happened upon us.

"Seen any fish today Dennis?" Before I could even open my mouth, Herb straightens up, looks him right in the eye and says, "No!"

Shop owners are naturals. "We have never had anyone else had a problem with this reel." "Sure you didn't get sand in it?" Or "Gee, I have the same waders for the past five years and mine have never leaked." You get the idea.

George falls into the second category of Liars. These are what I term as the Progressive Liar or (P.L.) This style of lying takes a little more finesse because it relies on the story "tellee" as an active participant. The gist of the P.L. is, he will generally start off with a fairly innocuous statement about the fishing and as the listener buys into the story, the guide continues to embellish as long as the angler will take the bait. Statements like "Really" or "No Kidding" are all that is required, but a "that’s amazing" will really fan the fire. I should tell you that my last conversation with George, he told me how he killed 34 mallards with one shot. I thought I was ready. I was wrong.

"Been finding any summer runs?" George asks.

"A few on the North Fork." I answered.

"Yeah, I had a client out the other day up at Deer Creek, and we hooked four steelhead in five cast." He claimed.

"Wow, that’s pretty good." I answered with my most sincere face.

"Yeah, we would have got the fifth one too but he lost it at the boat."

"You were fishing from a boat at Deer Creek?" "Most locals wouldn't much care for that." I said. (Illegal now)

"Boy, that’s for sure." George says. "One guy even started throwing rocks!"

"Wow!" You are lucky someone didn't get hit." I answered.

"Oh he hit the client alright" He stated. "Right in the head!"

"Gee, did he get hurt?" I asked.

"Oh yeah" George said nonchalantly. "Knocked him right out."

"What did you do?" I could just see this guy sprawled all over the bottom of the boat.

"I did the only thing I could do." He claimed. "I rowed like hell for the Cisero take out."

"But that’s like six miles away!" I exclaimed.

"Made it in twenty minutes." George said proudly.

I found myself staring.

"So then what happened?" I almost didn't want to ask.

"Nothing really." he said. "The guy wouldn't come to, and they airlifted him to Harborview." Oh, he has since recovered from the stroke, walks with a limp is all."

"Boy, its too bad they didn't get the guy for throwing the rock." I said.

"Oh, they did." Turns out the guy was out on parole." He said. "They sent in a Swat team and everything!"

"George, I gotta go." I turned to leave the store.

"Did I tell you he was wanted for Murder!" he yelled as I kept walking.

"Dang, he's good." I thought.