LET’S GO FISHING
SHOT WITH THE FUJIFILM X-PRO3, XF27 F2.8
I’m fairly sure I’ve gone fishing before. My late Uncle Stan was an avid fisherman and I had lots of chances to fish while I’d spent time in his and my Aunt Janet’s cottage in Belle Ewart, Ontario. The trouble is I don’t remember. But surely at some point in the first 66 years of my life I’ve held a fishing rod in my hands with some intent to catch a big one.
Fast forward to last weekend where Alice and I were invited to our friend Kimberly’s parents (Leigh and Bud) to spend a couple of days. We were well into our second day and I felt confident that I was able to avoid the question that I least wanted to hear. “Would you like to go fishing?” It’s not that I don’t like the act of fishing (since I had no memory of ever doing it before) but to be honest, I can’t really see the point of spending hours on a boat waiting for the fish to bite. It’s not that I think it’s cruel. I eat fish. A lot of fish. I know that they don’t just magically appear every week at my fishmongers. Still, the prospect of throwing back some brewskis while waiting and waiting seemed like a bit too much of the slow life for me.
But our very generous 91 year old host Bud wanted to take us out, so out we went. No beers were consumed (apparently there’s a law about driving a boat and drinking) and it was fairly late in the afternoon, early evening so the sun was not out in full force. In fact, the light was contrasty and beautiful. Perfect for taking some photos.
Alas, Bud confirmed his fishing credentials by pulling out three good size bass fish about two pounds each, while one (the really big one) sadly got away. I managed to catch two tiny, tiny gobies which are an invasive species in Georgian Bay and I was informed are best for using as bait to catch bigger fish. Well, apparently the bigger fish didn’t get that memo so the two gobies are all I caught and they went back into the lake.
So there you have it. Will I go fishing again? Actually yes. I’d love to go. While I didn’t experience any sort of “fisherman’s high” it was an enjoyable experience. Nobody got the hook caught in their eye or other fleshy part of their body. No one was sea sick. And watching Bud do his thing was inspiring. I’m sure he could put the worm bait on and prepare the fishing rods blindfolded. That sort of muscle memory only comes with decades and decades of practice. The next time someone asks if I want to go fishing, the answer will be a resounding YES.
