My first fishing story
“You fish?” asked Bob. He was driving a loaner SUV and I was in the passenger seat as we bumped along on a narrow dirt path surrounded by chest-high grass. The river had caught me by surprise. A large expanse of calm water, only fifty yards away. A moment before, we were passing through the woods as Bob tried to point out the location of landscape pins off in the woods, marking an invisible boundary. Bob knew these woods well, and the river. He had lived in this place for a few decades. Now, he was leaving.
“Uh, no... not really”, I started to answer, wondering if catching crabs off a pier counted as “fishing”. “... but I want to learn” I said. At this point, even the work of pondering my backlog of “things to learn” was a daunting task. After traveling a few thousand miles across the country, I was neck deep in learning: mortgages, homeowners' insurance, flood risk, down payments, property taxes, water heaters, chain saws, ... A lifetime of apartment living had not prepared me properly for home ownership.
The idea faded quickly as Bob started to explain the poor firewood value of Silver Maple, but the seed had been planted.
The following year, after having introduced myself to that river, the idea emerged again. Through nearly no action of my own, I found myself in possession of not just a fishing rod and a set of tackle, but also a fishing license and information about the safe frequency of fish consumption from this particular river. Still, what I needed to learn felt overwhelming, and the idea did not grow.
When another spring arrived, and the river started to swell with melted snow and ice, I thought about fishing. But, where to begin? I wanted to learn how to fish, I did not know who to ask. This is a common issue for me, it's difficult for me to ask for help and feel vulnerable. But that's not the whole story, isolation—both social and geographical—had left me without any good resources. But now, like the ice floating on the river, the idea had some momentum. So, I did what anyone who grew up on AIM and Starcraft would do: I went online. I read forums, and watched videos. I found book recommendations, and bought a used copy of “Fishing for Dummies”, along with probably too many other books.
I spent a few hours with the pile of fishing books. Then my partner showed me how to put the fishing line on my reel, and it almost felt like I was ready to go.
One morning, I decided to give it a try. I knew grasshoppers would be a good bait, and normally I see them everywhere. So, naturally, when I set out looking for a grasshopper, there were none to be found. After a long search, I managed to catch only one grasshopper. I was getting sweaty and mosquito-bitten. It sounds silly, but the lack of bait was nearly enough to make me put off my fishing trip once again. At this time, I just happened to have another task to do at the river, so why not bring along my fishing gear?
When I arrived at the river, I thanked the grasshopper and stabbed him with my hook. Then I found my way out to a particularly inviting rock in the river.
Time for my first cast ever. I drew my hand backwards and then forwards, trying to emulate one of the diagrams in Fishing for Dummies. I didn't even see where my hook went. What I did see was most of my grasshopper friend's body, free from my hook, flying off into the distance and splashing into the water. I felt failure. Pretty much what I had been expecting. I reeled my hook back in, there was nothing left on it.
Before packing up my rod and leaving in defeat, I decided to try another cast, just to see if I could aim the hook accurately. With no bait on my hook, I cast again. Just like the previous time, I did not even see where the hook went. Unlike the last time, I immediately felt the line pull.
Now this was unexpected, yet familiar: This is what always happened in those YouTube videos! I started pulling and reeling. Whoever was pulling my line put up a big fight; I reeled as I reeled, they swam and swam. After what felt like five minutes, I managed to pull them out of the water. A moderately-sized Smallmouth Bass was looking at me! Being utterly unprepared for this level of success, I barely managed to snap a picture without dropping my phone into the river. My hook came out easily and I made the choice to return the fish to the gentle water.
And that's the story of how I caught my first fish.
