What’s To Love About Fishing?

Fishermen, sometimes total strangers, love to brag and engage in lofty philosophy. Some get almost spiritual and say things like, “I feel close to God when I’m fishing.” Or, “If a boy fishes he’ll become a fine man.” Or, “It doesn’t matter whether I catch anything.” If that were true, why use hooks!

I got snookered by the enthusiasm of some of my friends and started fishing. Now they think I expect too much. Perhaps I do. But so far, adjusting from diving in Mexico to fishing with a pole is like trading my red Mustang GT for an old gray golf cart.

Photos of me in Speedos holding spear-shot 30-pound beauties, lobsters, and scallops, are pleasant reminders of my more primitive way of obtaining luscious seafood. Thank God my sustenance now doesn’t depend on what I bring home. I’d be eating leftover worms!

A friend caught 4 big catfish at the aqueduct while I pulled in 8 pounds of moss. After 2 whole days I finally landed a meaty 17-inch bass. The minimum is 18 inches! After releasing him I only fooled a 5-inch blue gill. Three trips to the lake were even less productive and I got skunked at Pyramid. Our algae-filled lake yielded one small trout after 2 days. I’ve spent $300 on stuff called “Super Duper”, “Rooster Tail”, “Needle Fish”, “Squid Gravy”, “Wild Eye Shad”, “Jerkin Minnow”, and a really nasty-looking one called, “Robo Worm”. Some models even buzz, glow and stink!

I’ve also tried worms, cheese, corn, chicken liver, mackerel, Power Bait, sprays and dips, and on the advice of a friend, pepperoni. I even up-graded my cheap Walmart rod and reel to a Sports Chalet combo that looks and works great! My expensive polarized sunglasses are supposed to reveal fish deep in the water (where they remain). Yes! I fished from a boat. Yes! I listened to expert advice of friends. No! I wasn’t drunk. I was sober and focused!

One morning while dunking worms at 6 a.m., I concluded that I succeeded at spear fishing because I didn’t leave the decision-making to the fish. I saw – I dove - I shot! Of course I held my breath to avoid drowning. Now, while fishing, I hold my breath to avoid cursing. Being dumber than a fish injures the ego, exhausts patience, and wastes time better spent cleaning toilets.

And that’s just the emotional part. A sore back, sunburn, insect bites, and a numb butt are my usual physical rewards. I barely felt the treble hook I sat on. And my wife says my car is beginning to smell like forgotten anchovies.

If fishing is so noble and relaxing, why do enthusiasts rip across the lakes in fancy, $50 K, 250 hp boats, to beat others to the best spot, and then grumble when another boat gets too close?
Well, I’m still trying. Tell me your best fishing secret and I’ll keep it to myself! You might find a boat and fishing gear priced for quick sale. Maybe I’ll buy salmon at Costco, stay home and watch “Get Wild With Cindy” on ESPN. She always catches fish. And that’s The Way I See It!

NJ