The world would be a better place if we had more fishermen and w
omen, I am convinced of it. Especially if they’re like my friend, Ron, and his long time fishing buddy, Henry. It doesn’t matter how much patience you have, how many gizmos and gadgets you buy, or how many rods you cast, you still have minimal control on the outcome. Yet, at the next opportunity, you are ready to go out again. More of us need to be content with knowing we cannot control the outcome, no matter how hard we try and how prepared we are. Imagine how freeing that is!
When I was in my early 20’s, I decided I wanted to try fishing. I rummaged through my parents’ garage to find a pole, bought a license, and dug my worms. Even though I have always been squeamish about slippery, slimy things, earthworms never bothered me, and somewhere in my youth, my dad taught me how to bait a hook without including my finger.
It was a lovely summer day when a friend and I planted ourselves along the banks of a slow moving river in northern Wisconsin where I taught. I cast my line and waited. I cast again. And again. And again. My fishing days ended in less time then it took me to dig, drive and bait. That was an hour I’d never get back, nor ever return to. I did not have the patience for it.
A few years later, I took my nieces and nephews camping and along with the tent and sleeping bags, I threw in a fishing pole. I think I did this just for “good aunt points” and it must have worked, because my nephew mentioned this just a couple of years ago, and I’d long forgotten it.
Over the years, I’ve always thought I wanted to try fishing again, though I’ll be doggoned if I’m ever going to clean a fish, much less eat it. But when my former neighbor, Ron, who has relocated to the west side of the state, asked if Kathy and I would like to go salmon fishing with him on Lake Michigan, we both jumped at the chance.
We met Ron and his friend, Henry, at the boat at 5:45 Sunday night. In the next three hours, I learned about lead core lines, dipsey divers, downriggers, depth finders, flashers, and twinkies, all used in trolling for salmon. So with ten lines readied, weighted, and dropped, we trolled, waited, and talked. By 8:45, the sun had set and we were back at the dock.
Were we successful? If success is enjoying a gorgeous late summer sunset on a boat on Lake Michigan, then absolutely. If your measurement is a bucket full of fish, not so much.
It was a wonderful evening and per usual, I enjoyed learning about the technical aspects of fishing. More importantly, I left impressed with what a special breed of people fishermen and women are who find contentment in the process, even when the outcome isn’t what they’d hoped. “This is why they call it fishing and not catching,” Henry said. I get it.
I would always take a book along for when the fish weren’t biting. Once my son caught on that even though my line was in the hook wasn’t baited. It was being out there that counted. Thanks for waking up pleasant memories.
Oh what a nice memory. I was really along for the ride, and Ron and Henry were great guides. On the other hand, I understand why their wives don’t like to go fishing with them. Thanks for the read and comment. Always fun to read comments.
It was a wonderful experience for me and you captured it so well as usual minus one little thing but that will be our secret!
Oh, you mean about how calm the water was while my stomach had ten foot waves? More things I learned on this little expedition. Dramamine next time.
I just used the same ‘line’ as Ron- “That’s why they call it fishing and not catching.”- last week when our 10-year-old grandson returned from a no-biting fishing trip. This disappointing experience segued into a rather deep discussion about process vs. product-centered endeavors. The young lad got it. He’s a sweet, contemplative soul.
I remember going fishing with my Dad as a child- loving the time we spent together on the water. This love did not include baiting, taking fish off the hook or cleaning them. The poor man often had to row back to shore, just after arriving at a good spot. My little bladder was the culprit.
What a beautiful memory this conjured up and what a beautiful memory and lesson you’re creating. Thank you. This is the kind of stuff that makes me keep writing and I so appreciate you sharing both with me.
Love the ending sentence and picture Pam. Btw, so glad you learned of “Twinkies.” Next time, ask your friend about “Little Debbie Snack Cakes.” 🙂
I swear that each time they said “twinkies”, I thought they meant “twizzlers” – a one track mind. But you’re right, I’ll ask for the Little Debbie peanut butter bars next time – those are my favorites. I really appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. Glad you enjoyed it. Thanks!
Thanks Pam. Ron and I had as much fun and enjoyment just taking you and Kathy fishing that night as you had being along. It was a great evening. And oh yeah, I can now say that you took good mental notes as you successfully passed the salmon-trolling equipment and techniques quiz!!
Thank you, Henry, for the read and the comment. I tried to pay close attention because there was so much to learn! But enough trolling for me for a bit, I assure you. Thanks again for the enjoyable evening.
I know that you want to go fishing with the “fish whisper.” I can’t guarantee fish being caught either, but I can guarantee enjoying the feel of water … when you are standing on your own two feet in a creek. And those same lake salmon really look monstrous when they are coming up to spawn in skinny water.
So, what are you doing after work? Wanna go fishing?
Thanks for the read and the comment. Still no fishing for me, I’m afraid regardless of casting from a boat, standing along a river bank, or keeping my balance in a creek (which I have little confidence in). But thanks anyway!