Jesse has a head start, and everyone else could care less. That comes with a couple of years down in permit town.
He’s also bilingual, and open to interpretation. Whatever that means.
What’s nice about his experience is that he shares it. The flies to throw, the distance to lead the fish. Every cast, eat and fight, so you have at least an idea of the angle to take. That comes with 30 permit releases.
With long hair, pointy beard and a soul patch, Jesse looks like a shorter version of General Custard with no shirt and tribal tatts. Travel fishing, lodge ownership and a terror trained mental finishing school have converted the fresh powder hound into the consummate host with all the feigned interest that goes along with it. Break out the tequila and a guitar and it won’t be long before he’s climbed to the roof and started strumming.
That’s what we love about Jesse. He’s all-in.
Feeling froggy? Throw it out there, he’ll leap. Let’s surf an ATV! OK. Let’s jump out of a running boat for no reason! OK. Let’s high-five all the trees at 50 mph! OK. Crap. There’s a tree called a Che Chen which is like poison ivy only worse. He slapped it and touched his eye. Now it’s swelled shut. Anyone have some antihistamine?
For all the up-for-anything adventurer in him there’s a double expresso of business acumen, which is why after a long day of fishing and night of partying you’ll wake at 3 AM to hear him greeting the arriving anglers whose flights got delayed. “Yeah man, there’s lots of fish, on the beach and in the bay. Lots of shots yesterday. Don’t let my eye freak you out. You’re in room number 3.”