Boating Tips and Tales

June 2007: It’s Fishing Not Catching

Written by Ed Stone - Commodore, MiraBay Mariners Club

Grandpa Sam looked up with that wonderful gleam in his eyes and repeated those all to familiar words the family had come to love and really expect to hear over the years; “come on you fishies.”  It seems like only yesterday and yet it was many years ago the last time I heard those words.  But then, it wouldn’t be a fishing trip if we didn’t hear them at least once.  Yep!  My mind went back to when we were once again on the boat fishing the inland waters around Marathon in the Florida Keys.  It didn’t take long, especially if the bite was off, for those words to be heard loud and clear and not once but often.  I have often wondered if Sam would say them had not one of the family been near.  Like, “if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it in fact make noise?”  But that was his way and who were we to argue.

Patience, patience and more patience.  That’s the real key to fishing.  I had a good friend who often said, “If I had patience, I’d be a doctor.”  Well, he had neither.  And he did love to fish but that’s another story.  Not too many sports rely on patience.  Fishing has to top the very short list.  No matter what the venue or type you are engaged in, fishing is fishing.  A big tip of my old, worn and faded fishing hat goes to those brave souls who venture out onto the ice, cut out a small hole and drop a hook and line into it and sit and wait, sometimes for hours on end, for the little flag to tip up.  I haven’t at all forgotten those who indulge in the most exacting of fishing experiences, that of fly fishing.  Total concentration and commitment to the moment is mandatory to accomplish any modicum of success.  Even those who sit on a bank with a cane pole and a can full of night crawlers or red wigglers must have that secret ingredient in their lives. As a lot, fishermen completely personify true patience and a dedicated commitment to their sport.  Not to be ignored or overlooked, the same commitment applies to those hearty souls who brave the elements to sit in a duck blind or wait in a tree stand for hours hoping for the right shot.  I’ve noticed over the years that the vast majority of those devoted hunters also are dedicated fishermen.  It all comes down to loving the outdoors and their commitment to the call and wonder of nature. 

How many times have we gone fishing and, nothing.  For most of us, just to be on or around the water indulging in the thing we love should be quite enough.  Frustrating at times, yes.  That comes with the territory.  Fishing should be more than attempting to catch as many fish as possible.  Fishing is what I consider an “all inclusive sport.”  It’s more than rods and reels and bait.   It should also be a time of relaxation and, sometimes a time for reflection.  A time to break clear of all the worries of the day and to enjoy the moment.   All of us must have more than a little affinity for the water otherwise we wouldn’t be fishing in the first place.  Most of us, I assume, started fishing at an early age.  Going with parents and grandparents or friends and enjoying, not only the experience, but the company.  Nothing can be more rewarding than taking a child fishing.  We take our grandchildren with us when we can and nothing is more rewarding than watching the excitement when they hook into a fish and work to bring it in.  However, if the bite is off and fishing is slow, they never seem to get bored.  Just being on the water seems to be enough. 

I once read that fishing can be defined as long periods of tedium and boredom, punctuated by moments of pure adrenalin rush.     

A few years back, I was fly fishing for salmon on the Pierre Marquette River in Midwestern Michigan.  It was late September and an extremely cold, nasty and rainy day.  The misty rain and low hanging clouds made it just a miserable day to be out.  A nice warm fire in the lodge sounded more and more inviting as we waded, waist deep in the icy water.  Our guide, who was working with two of us, left my buddy in a spot to fish and took me to another “secret” spot further up the river.  Leaving me alone to fish, he went back to help my friend.  Now I’m beginning to wonder what in the world am I doing out in this place?  What possesses people to suffer this kind of adverse conditions just to fish?  Then it happens.  The adrenalin rush.  A big salmon took the fly and the battle was on.  After a few well timed jumps, he broke off and left me with an empty rod and no extra flies.  Scrutinizing the area, I noticed a couple of fallen logs along the bank of the river and decided to sit and wait for the guide to return.  Sitting there in the cold misty rain, with the only sounds being that of the rushing water of the river and the rain on that old fishing hat, I found myself becoming totally relaxed and even in these most adverse conditions, soon had a totally different perspective on the day.  I began to enjoy the wonder of nature and how beauty can come in different packages.    Even today, I reflect  back and remember it as one of the most peaceful times I have ever experienced.  For me, time slowed down.  How long I sat on that log, waders in the water, the cold rain making those soft sounds on that old hat, before the guide came back, I do not know.  What I do know is that I was somewhat disappointed in seeing him return and having him interrupt that beautiful and peaceful moment. 

Fishing, of course, can be many things to many people.  For those who choose to fish alone, solitude and a time for inward reflection.  Companionship and camaraderie for those who fish with others and most of all, a time for families and friends to share in a common experience.  For all those who enjoy the experience, alone or in groups, it is always a time to enjoy just being.  Most of all, to take pleasure in the beauty of nature and what it has to offer. 

Sometimes it’s more important to bring back more than just fish.  Bringing back the experience and wonderment of the moment can be just as fulfilling as a fish box full of fish.  Looking back at that nasty day on the river and remembering that even though I didn’t catch any fish that day, I did come away with a better understanding of what the sport is all about. 

Oh, and by the way, if Grandpa Sam didn’t do too well that day fishing, he didn’t complain and was always ready to do it again any chance he had.  A lot of patience, not really, but then he wasn’t a doctor but he really loved the water and being with his family.

And now as those familiar words come back to mind, I am also more than ever reminded that the name of the sport we are engaged in really is Fishing not Catching!

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