The aroma of coffee filled the house and at 2am there is no finer scent. I had just pulled the clothes out of the dryer to warm me up a bit before stepping out into the early morning chill. I jumped into my car and headed out to rendezvous with "Suds" and Kevin in the parking lot at work as Suds declared days before that “ We’re Going Fishing ”
Suds and Kev are no strangers when it comes to handling a rod so to them this could be another simple outing to not only enjoy the art of fishing but perhaps temporarily escape the trappings of work or anything else over-occupying their minds. For me however, this was Christmas morning at the age of five just waiting to open presents. Oh I had fished before but it was in a time when I was more interested in my building career and roaming the streets with drinking buddies who believed the most sorrowful words were 'last call' so the essence and beauty of fishing was not yet understood.
We piled the gear into KT’s Explorer and headed West on the 210. With coffee in hand and idle conversation to pass the time, we were going fishing. This part of the trip had a signature similar to that of surfing trips I've taken; early morning starts, fresh coffee, gear loaded and best of all, friends to experience it with. After about two-hours on the road, we reached Piru. The earliest hints of dawn began to show as we drove along the meandering hill-side road which leads to the lake. As planned, we reached the entrance gate at precisely 5am. These gents made it clear; cannot be late for fishing. I firmly believe this to be a byword to any devoted fisherman as well as the entire fishing community. All the arrangements were made in advance so by 5:20am, we were on the boat motoring towards the first hole. When we arrived, dawn was in full bloom and the horizon was painted with vibrant colors of red, pink and a subtle orange to further enhance the background of a gorgeous azure sky. The scent of dawn was intoxicating with its fresh air, the water and surrounding trees. Nature commenced with her day-breaking salutations with the signing of birds, cows mooing, coyotes giving out a few last howls and best of all, a light breeze rustling through the branches and leaves of the shoreline timbers.
KT had a good set-up for me, one that would suit any beginning fisherman. Gosh, I can’t believe that I actually called myself a fisherman. Well, I had a fishing license, a rod in hand ready to cast however I just don’t feel that I deserve to be included into this sacred fraternity, not yet anyway. Dues need to be paid. As Suds and KT were finishing their set-up, I cast first and I must admit it was a pretty good cast. My line drifted slightly beneath a bush that provided sufficient shade from the fast rising sun. While my line lay dormant in this hole, I soon learned that fishing is a matter of patience. The time between my cast and the first nibble on my line was therapeutic. No cell phones, no e-mails, no meetings, no conference calls, no impossible decisions to make. Trivial pursuits have no place or value in this arena and though I recognize my own infancy to the art of fishing, I would be nothing but annoyed by anyone disgracing this piece of time on the water by conducting some sort of business with such menacing devices. Square pegs still don’t fit into round holes no matter how hard one tries.
Within a span of three hours, we hit many holes and had a string of good catches. Nothing too rewarding in terms of size but quantity was plentiful. It wasn’t until mid-morning that I hit a good stride. It seems that within minutes after I cast my line I was hooking onto some good small mouth bass. I admit that a few times I got entangled with the bottom and KT had to cut the line and re-thread my rod. Growing pains. My catch of the day came after one of my better casts which for me was about 10-yards. I sat patiently after I cast and began to feel the mid-morning heat of summer when suddenly I felt a heavy tug on my line. “Dam, I tangled my line to the bottom again !” I shouted from the bow. Suds who was at the stern yelled back “The hell you did, look !” Simultaneous to the sound of my reel spinning freely, I saw the fish breach the surface and a battled ensued. Quickly, KT and Suds shouted to reel it in and pull up on the rod gingerly and don’t jerk it. It was a good size bass and it put up a good fight. I let out some line to give it room for more chase thus extending our engagement. Nothing mattered at this point. All my troubles, my worries, my fears were all but gone in a span that seemed like a life time but was really just a few joyous minutes. I must have worn an ear-to-ear grin because the inside of me was over-flowing with joy. I haven’t felt this much excitement in quite a long time.
I ended the chase by firmly reeling it in. As I stood on the boat looking over my catch on a clear blue warm sunny day, suddenly I had an epiphany. It wasn’t the fish that was truly baited and hooked but it was I. Nature baited me with her unmatched beauty wrapped with wonderful sense of unyielding meekness and finally hooked me with the knowledge that I can commune with her whenever I wish. She holds no grudges and casts no judgments upon anyone. She is blind to our frailties and short-comings.
Although my ruminations of this fishing trip may not have had the same impact on Suds and KT as it did with me, I can honestly say that there are not too many days that go bye that I wish I were back out on the water. The art of fishing requires patience and patience builds character. It seems that fishing will do me a lot of good over the long haul of life. Am I hooked ? In spades; hook, line and sinker !
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