Gone Fishin' without flies

Why is it that I enjoy fishing so much? It is, after all, not a woman's "sport". My girlfriends could never see the joy it gave me and if they did, they never understood it.
Some of my guy friends would take me with them to humor me. Sometimes they would laugh at me regarding my choice of lure. But most times the last laugh was on them because I would catch fish and they many times came up empty handed.

My one time, long time, since passed, friend Mike used to get quite frustrated. When we would fish, I was often lucky. I recall his practicing his fly-fishing technique religiously. One day he just had it up to his ears. I'd caught two trout. One rainbow and one brown.
"Here I am, doing everything perfectly, and you just throw a chunk of aluminum in there and get the fish!!" It was funny.

On one particular day, out in a canoe on Wapta Lake with a couple of serious fishing men, I decided to use a "buzz bomb" lure, some wobbly thing. Both men had a chuckle. After I landed a fine sized lake trout, their laughter was replaced by their frenzied scramle to find any "buzz bomb" they might have in their tackle boxes. It was priceless. The fish always seemed to come to me.

I always preferred the river. And since those days past, I have often found great solace in waking up very early to head out alone. The joy of those days would begin the moment the smell of my morning brewing coffee hit my nose. Packing things to take with me added to the anticipation. I would sip coffee, fill a thermos, pack a lunch, check my tackle box, rod and reel....

Heading out of doors before the birds had even begun to sing, I would breathe in the mountain air deeply, almost down to my toes. It was always cool, even in summertime, at that time of day. I would drive down the highway a bit and park the truck off the road. Then I'd hike a ways, over the train tracks and way down to the Bow.

No one ever understood my true reasons for fishing. I wasn't doing it to catch fish, although they were a bonus. I was doing it for the feeling of utter calm that would come over me. It was like a kind of healing meditation. There I would stand at the river's edge, no waders to be had, but happy. The water was with me and I was lulled by the sounds it made as it flowed by, over pebbles, big rocks, half submerged tree branches. The repetitive motion of my casting and reeling would soothe me for hours. I never thought about much when I fished. I simply WAS. I was in the moment, always. I'd note the vague sensation of rocks under my feet, I'd listen to the trees, yes, and notice the air, the wind, breezes or sun as they would touch my face.

Blue jays would sometimes watch me, safe at a distance, happy to stay awhile. What did they think of this strange human who would stand for hours, casting and reeling, casting and reeling? The pull of the lure as it traveled downstream and worked gently against my effortless sensation of bringing them back was some sort of constant companion for me. The pull never slowed and it was always there.

Lake fishing was never my preference, unless I had a boat handy, which was a rare thing. Once, though, I recall I just had to get out and as it was later in the day I did not want to go too far. I headed for a lake just north of Lake Louise. When I arrived, I was surprised to find that no one but myself was there. Though I suspect it was mostly popular for hardy swimmers who braced themselves against the glacier water. The lake was shallow and I later found out from others that the fish within tasted muddy. Shallow lakes were rarely a destination for me. But I was happy that day to just go through the routine of my standing meditation. No fish came my way..... unusual. But what did come my way, as the darkness approached, were bats. They showed up and flew around me but not quite at me. It took me awhile to realize that my reel was squeaking. Was that what was attracting them? Or was it the myriad mosquitoes that had showed up? I lit a cigarette to keep the bugs away from me and packed my things away. Was it the high pitched squeaky reel that lured the bats or was it the mosquitoes? I hope the bats fed well that night. Or do bats even eat bugs? What would I know, I just fish.