I was reading Ryan Cleary's latest article in The Independent a couple of days ago, about fishing with his father and sons, and reflecting on his identity as a bayman living in Town.
It is something to which I can relate.
As a kid I went trouting with dad and other family members quite often. With the aluminum boat in the pan (back) of the truck, and mom's jam sandwiches packed away, off we went to one of the many ponds off the access road in Loon Bay.
I remember the stillness of the water, the sounds of the birds echoing across the sky, the taste of warm jam between my teeth, and of course, the flies biting me. Quite often I ended up tucked underneath the hull, waiting for dad to start catching trout. Then I would emerge, ready to bait my hook with a squirmy worm. More often that not, dad ended up baiting it.
As I aged into the teenage years and all the angst that comes with it, I refused to go fishing with my father. Being his only son, I'm sure it disappointed him. He thought he had me back 'within the fold' the summer I agreed to get a salmon license with him. Off we went, with his brother Claude, to fish on the Main River in White Bay. I hooked, fought, and landed my first - and last, salmon and never went back. I still don't know why I didn't go back, and whatever happened to the rest of my 'tags' is still a mystery. :)
When my cousin got married 2 weeks ago, she married a man that loves the outdoors and salmon fishing. A new partner and son for my Uncle Cliff, who is enjoying retirement with a fishing rod in his hand.
I am a bit envious these days, not fishing with MY father-in-law when I visit around the bay, or asking to 'tag along' with my father and uncle as they take their yearly fishing trip to labrador. I live in Mount Pearl now, and ask myself, "Am I more of a townie now, with my books and little house on a cul-de-sac?"
Even though I enjoy the 'comforts' of town, I still liked living in Churchill, Manitoba and can see myself living around the bay again. But only if my wife comes as well.
At least I have my memories of childhood. Thanks for baiting my hook dad.
Thanks for all the great sandwiches mom.
2 comments:
This is a great post; the sort of sentiment that makes a family what a family should be.
Had you, as a teenager, continued the outings that would have been, I think, especially abnormal.
It's the strength of the memory and how that continues to be important to you that tells the tale.
I appreciate the comment you left regrading your inclusion in my Surfer's Paradise series. It came as a blogger no-reply so I was left with no choice but to touch base here.
I don't do that project to get links. Ultimately, though, if I'm going to establish an ongoing connection with a realistic chance to returning to a site it happen through a link. Life as it is...
If you have interest in an exchange of links let me know. I'd be happy to do so. Also, there's a referral or two I can pass along if you're interested.
I just did a search for fishing with dad today and there are millions of posts about the subject. Seems you have reached a stage in your life that all of us get to. hold on to the memories they keep us anchored even when great distance separates us from family and our old lives.
Gene from www.canvaspress.com
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