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Every fall I tell myself that next spring will be different. I'll be better prepared. I'll be proactive, instead of reactive. Well, March is fast approaching and this year is playing out no differently than past years and my head is beginning to swim with thoughts of what needs to get done as I prepare for the upcoming trout guiding season.

Many nights, as I futilely attempt to drift off to sleep, my brain is kept awake - unmercifully speed-bagged - with what seems to be an endless "to do" list: buy my guide's license, call my manufacturer rep for catalogs and pro price forms, work the Seven Pines Lodge booth at the annual spring fly-fishing show down in Bloomington, check my stock of rods, reels, lines and leaders, fix what needs fixing and replace what needs replacing, tie flies, buy what I can't tie, hmm, any leaks in the twelve pairs of customer waders hanging out in the barn? Where did I put that wader patching kit last fall?

Thwappity - Thwappity - Thwappity - THWAP!

No wonder I'm so tired during the daytime after restless nights of Iron Mike Tyson working up a sweat on my noggin. What makes it worse is hearing his squeaky, nasally Truman Capote-like voice taunting me at 1 a.m. Of course, visions of the paisley eye tattoo and flashing gold tooth doesn't help much either.

"So, umm, Dan. You got enough on your plate? Huh? You busy enough? Don't forget you gotta renew your, umm, Guide's Association dues with the Federation of Fly Fishers. That'll cost you plenty. Where you gettin' the money for that? You tired? Well I ain't. You want me to thump on your head some more? How 'bout I gnaw a hunk off your ear? Huh?"

I wish I could somehow convince you that I simply make this stuff up on deadline. You're thinking, well, he's got to be kidding, right? To answer both questions respectively I'll simply say that I can't and I'm not. Oh sure, I suppose on some level I consciously arrange the early morning meetings with the ex-pugilist-turned-psycho. I figure that if these thoughts are going to flood my brain in the middle of the night and prevent me from sleeping anyway, I might as well conjure up a nitwit with a funny voice to entertain me, too. Nocturnal visits from Iron Mike of all folks. Isn't he serving a dime stretch down in Maricopa County for doing something really rotten?

What I'm attempting to humorously get at is the fact that fishing is a business. A really big business that can either reward you for your efforts, or keep you from getting anywhere for lack of effort. And to do well in any business you must attend to the details - lots and lots of details - and make connections and advertise and align yourself with others in the industry that will help you. I thoroughly enjoy all aspects of the fishing business and I've never grown tired of it. The moment guiding and teaching others begins to feel like a job, I won't waste a single moment in quitting. However, I seriously doubt that day will come anytime soon.

Dan Brown's weekly outdoor column is brought to you by Frankie's Bait and Marine, in Chisago City, and St. Croix Outdoors, in St. Croix Falls, Wis.

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