As soon as I slip my waders onto my feet and strap them over my shoulders I instantly feel void of all feminine emotions. It is as if my waders cause me to grow chest hair and balls. I feel like a young teenage boy believing that I am invisible as they instantly become a protective barrier between me and the rest of the world. Deep streams or mucky wetlands become no longer intimidating when my waders are on.
In fact I think I was once mistaken as a man while wearing my waders. It was a hot summer day in the field and I was near the work truck on a quiet road in a remote area of northern Minnesota when a vehicle pulled over nearby. A man emerged from the vehicle and walked over to me to ask for directions. I pulled out a map from the vehicle and showed him he was only a few miles north of his destination. Finding me friendly he started to disclosure information as to why he was lost. “Yeah a woman gave me directions. You know how that is…woman can’t give directions. She didn’t know her north from her south.” Stunned I paused and looked at him again not sure what to say. He paused for a second too then suddenly blushed, turned and returned to his car without another word. Yes, I thought,we woman can’t give directions. We carry maps!
It seemed the first few times I put on my waders or took them off I felt I needed a private dressing room rather than the minimal discretion given by large work truck. Not only are you required to get used to wearing waders but you also needed to be able to walk through streams and muck in them. Sea legs are what my boss called them. He was referring to the ability to not make yourself look like a complete idiot while trying to get in or around in them. What he taught me was that this is nearly impossible.
It was my second trip out in the field as a Hydrologist, the first trip out with my boss Greg. We stopped at our first site together, put our waders on (me on the opposite side of the truck from him), grabbed our equipment and headed down to the stream. Before we left the sanctity of the work truck and headed down to the streambank he looked at me, smirked and said, “Let’s see if you got your sea legs yet.” He seemed to be self-assured in his abilities as he quickly marched down the side of the hill towards the stream with me almost running behind him trying to keep up with his confident stride. He paused briefly at the bank to turn and look making sure I hadn’t tripped over myself yet. He smirked again at me one last time then proceeded to climb into the stream without hesitation. Next thing I knew confident Greg was stumbling into the stream falling head first into the water.
That moment taught me never to underestimate the power of one’s sea legs and to always be standing in the stream first before questioning someone else’s.
