My Love For Fishing

So what is it about fishing that I adore? I didnt come from a fishing family although my first memory of fishing was when we were at the cottage in Muskoka, my grampa woke me up at 6am and we travelled down a trail that led to a dock, where we sat and caught perch and rock bass and sun fish. I remember also how my dad picked up on my love for fishing and took me all oiver the place. I remember one trip he and I took, a catfish swam into our minnow cage and when we awoke in the morning to go fishing, all we had was one big fat catfish. I remember dad drove us to a really remote lake near Algonquin called crown lake. It was there that I learned how to flyfish. I remember fishing off the dock when a seasoned fisherman came over and started flyfishing. I was in awe. He asked if I wanted to learn. After he had taught me to to flyfish, he gave me one of his reels. I rememebr my first fly rod. I was probably around 13 when I began to flyfish. While I really love fly fishing, truth is, I am a dime store hacker. I am a Canadian Tire fisherman. As you can see in the photo above there are no fancy waders, though I owned a pair. There is no fancy vest, though I had one hanging up in the back room. I would, and still do, just jump right in. I have ruined many church shoes. I remember getting a job at a trout club and working my membership off by cleaning the ponds and selling my hand tied flies. I learned to tie flies when I was about 15. I lived on a hobby farm and got my feathers and hackles from our roosters. I had quite a colletion of furs, hides and feathers that I had collected. An old fellow at the club taught me how to tie a Royal Wulff (Coachman) and then told me where I could find the big bull browntrout he knew of on the Credit River. He told me exactly where to find him and every day in the summer I went to try to fetch him. Never did catch him. An entire summer devoted to catching one wiley trout. I knew he was there because he gave me one missed opportunity...and he was big and respectable and I was small and inexperienced. My joy for fishing has led me and taken me to some really neat places. I have been blessed to catch many fish both big and small. I caught a Sturgeon while fishing for rainbow trout. I caught a Muskie while fishing for Bass. I caught a boot while ice fishing. I caught a bass that attacked another bass that ate my worm. I caught a seagull and a turtle and a tree and several rocks. I caught a shark while fishing for salmon. I caught numerous colds while fishing for who knows what. I have caught pretty much every type of freshwater fish and yearn to catch those that I havnt. So on my list of fish to catch are Arctic Char, Grayling, Aurora Trout, Golden Trout. Oh ya hey I caught a Tarpon on my honeymoon. Well almost.

So here is the crazy thing. I hate eating fish. I far prefer to practice catch and release, or if you like fish, I'll cook it for you. That my friends makes this whole thing simply ludicrus. Crazy that a grown man would gain such joy and satisfaction in teasing and tricking a fish to hook himself on my line, while I laugh with joy as the poor thing struggles to gain freedom. The harder he tries to escape, the more fun I have. When he leaps for his life, I laugh. Its kinda sick. The only saving grace for the fish is that I will readily return him to his home, unless of course he is stupid enough to swallow the hook. In that case, I force myself to eat him OR give him to someone who finds great joy in eating fresh fish. So as crazy as it all is, I cant wait until next time.

Thats it...it the thrill of the catch. Its the eager anticippation. Its the whole thing, the whole package. Going to incredible lengths to catch more exotic fish. Drive 8 miles by car, 4 hours by canoe and another hour walking for half an hour on a river that probably never will yeild a fish....or will it? ...maybe next time.