I was actually gifted the most thoughtful name at birth: Cori-Alice Holladay. My poor mother, however, was not. Her story is one I’m happy to share in person during “story-time” on the boat. I’m either referred to by Cori or Cori-Alice depending on when/how you met me. There is also Grommet, but I digress.
During my second season, I had the pleasure of floating with the legendary Emmett Heath. Emmett is one of the original guides on this stretch of river during the 80s and 90s. He is affectionally referred to as the Dean of the Green. During our float, another guide mentioned out loud that he was in the presence of royalty, referring to Emmett’s nickname and myself. He looked toward me and said, “Queen of the Green”. I shrugged it off. I was no Emmett Heath. Starting my seventh season at a new company, I decided to own the moniker.
Queen of the Green Origins
How I found myself behind the oars on the Green River near Dutch John, UT
If you would have asked me as a child if I imagined myself as the only female guide on the Green river below Flaming Gorge Reservoir in Utah, I would have probably laughed in your face. I was born and raised near Clemson, South Carolina. I was the oldest of a blended family that consisted of two daughters and five sons. We were all introduced to fishing at an early age, but I was the only one that “got hooked”. A classic memory involves my siblings and cousins at their lake house. No one could locate me for lunch. They looked for me and finally found me staring at a bobber off the dock completely content and captivated, while the rest of the family was enjoying lunch.
Fast forward, I actually found myself out West in April 2015 to hike from Mexico to Canada along the Pacific Crest Trail. After a few days of hiking, an old rib injury from roller derby complicated these plans. Friends and family back home suggested I rent a vehicle and tour the national parks while I was still out West after this setback. While in Utah, I came across the Green river. I stopped by Trout Creek Flies, purchased a fishing license, and fished a couple of hours down at Little Hole. I came back to the shop before heading back East and landed a job in their fly shop. That was such a special summer. In fact, I didn’t want it to end.
Several guides at that time saw the potential and encouraged me to stick around and guide. I gave them all the excuses as to why that was not a good idea: too old (33 years young at the time), didn’t know how to row, didn’t own a boat, already had a professional job teaching biology and chemistry collegiately, etc. They persisted, and by August I chose NOT to renew my teaching contract back home. Guide training had begun!
That was ten years ago…
