A Wee Bit Fishy
A reflection on the pastime of fishing
This morning was supposed to be the time to finish my chores. You know, finish putting up the Christmas Lights; install the new timer; vacuum up Liddy’s fir deposits (I swear you could stuff a mattress.) You know all that really fun stuff.
Instead, it was decided that we should drive up to South Center to shop for a couple of “necessities”. There would also be a mandatory stop in Auburn for the wife’s previously scheduled Quilts of Valor meeting.
While the meeting was underway at the quilt shop, Liddy and I used the opportunity to go for a walk along the Green River. It must be time for a salmon run because there were quite a number of people lining the riverbank fishing rods in hand. Bobbers aplenty were drifting in the current.
Fishing is a great pastime. In my opinion it probably ranks in the top ten. When we lived in Kamloops, BC, I learned the art of fly fishing. A good friend of mine got me started. The lakes around Kamloops are renowned for their trophy rainbow trout and they are an easy ten-minute drive from town. Fishing was a great release from the daily grind, running up after dinner and spending an hour or so casting a fly. If I had been doing it to put food on the table… Well, the few fish that rose to my hook were too small to keep.
One frustration that kept me from becoming a menace to the local trout was that many lakes require a boat. They are forested right up to the shore. Casting a fly from amongst the trees is a skill I have not mastered. So, a boat. A boat, however, was something that did not fit into our young family’s budget. My dreams of becoming great fisherman ran further aground when the inflation then recession of the eighties hit us. A transfer away from Kamloops to the South Okanagan didn’t help either.
Unlike Kamloops, the lakes around Penticton were not as convenient. Yes, the town is nicely situated between Okanagan Lake and Skaha Lake, but again, you must have a boat. Another handicap was the lack of a vehicle that would allow me to move a boat (if I had one) up to the lakes better suited for fly fishing.
As a result, my interest in the fishing pastime waned.
Sometimes, like today, when I happen upon a group of fisherfolk standing along the shore of our local rivers, sometimes I get the urge to pick up a pole. Our finned friends should not fear, however, as I find that I prefer to be the observer on the bank. Post processing the catch from my camera is nowhere near as messy as cleaning fish.
