Enjoy the journey
Once, in my younger years, I went moose hunting with a fellow who was in a big hurry to shoot a moose. He wanted to get that wild meat in the freezer pronto and get on with it. It being a lot of things I learned. After a long day with no moose, riding back home in his pickup truck, he lamented on the time we had wasted. A load of wood still stood tall on the stump in his absence. He could have been chain sawing down spruce for next winter. I think he already had wood enough for that particular coming snowy season. There were autumn cod to hand line, and on it went. I listened and did not understand. I had just enjoyed a lovely day in the woods. My soul was happy, his not so much, tormented by earthly complexity, perceived or otherwise.
A friend told me a story about taking his son salmon fishing in central Newfoundland. We were at our cabin on a Friday night, before a day of moose hunting, a time for stories of woods and waters amongst like-minded comrades. The fire crackled and pipe smoke hung in the air. It was the atmosphere my Dad spoke about in the Kyle’s smoke room. I’m sure many of you have read or heard of it, surely Ted Russell’s narrative of plentiful squid.
In central Newfoundland a man stood still, casting robotically to a riffle below a midstream rock in a small river. There were salmon about. It was prime water but the salmon were not particularly enthusiastic on that day, or that hour. Circumstances can change in short order.
My friend and his son fished around lesser pools and waited for the prime berth to be vacated. It would be the young fella’s first salmon and my buddy felt optimistic about the water below the rock.
The man finally broke his monotonous rhythm and walked to the riverbank where my friend and his son were now enjoying a cup of tea and some biscuits. The sun was shining brilliantly, water sparkled, a light breeze swayed the spruce and rustled the birches. Smoke rose in chaotic hypnotic spirals from an aromatic driftwood fire. All was well in the world, or so they thought, my friend and his son that is.
The man from the prime pool seemed agitated. They bid him good day just the same, commenting on the gorgeous weather of late. Ignoring the subject of polite meteorology, the retiring angler let loose his feelings about salmon fishing.
“Is there anything anymore boring than this bloody salmon fishing? I’ve been here since daylight and never caught a fish.”
The young lad just shrugged his shoulders. The man left in a rush without any tea. I suppose he had stuff to do.
There are too many people who put too much pressure on themselves, either to shoot a moose or tag a salmon. Aren’t we supposed to be enjoying ourselves in the outdoors, on rivers and in the woods? We take time off from our jobs, yard work, housework, home repairs, to breath a little, relax, and smell the roses.
If it’s all about killing a moose in a hurry, you won’t be inhaling many autumn woodsy smells. You will be too driven by the end result to enjoy getting there. It’s a shame not to embrace the journey.
On the other hand, and on the other side of the pond, there is a man who loves his salmon fishing very much, not just the catching, but the full complete deal. My good friend Per Heikkila guided him for a full week on the Gaula River in Norway. The older gentleman travelled from his Scottish homeland to wet his waders in the mighty Gaula. He was well heeled in the long tradition of Old World salmon angling. He dressed in shirt and tie, out of respect towards the fish he explained to Per. This man could really fish, throwing beautiful long loops with a limber spey rod. Per was impressed.
Rod Hale and I were in Norway fishing with Per when this story was related to us by the side of the pool where the Scottish gentlemen had caught his first Gaula salmon. In the context of us plucking and attempting to set steel in flesh to quickly on big Gaula fish, Per related the tale to us. It was our lesson and parable about calmness and Zen, to cool unbridled enthusiasm.
The Scottish gentlemen had been fishing since daylight, four hours on a slow beat. But he was not the slightest bit downhearted or sullen. On the contrary, he cast with intertwined purpose and liveliness, commenting often of the beauty of the day and the lushness of the Gaula valley.
Finally a big hen bit the fly hard in mid swing. The line tightened and he allowed a solid two to three feet slip through his thick but nimble fingers. There was not a trace of panic or rush, just calm purpose. The fish had now turned away from him, so the set hook would take a solid purchase in the scissors, or the corner of its mouth for non-fishers. “I believe I have one sir”, he announced in a cool unexcited voice. The fish peeling line, hooked perfectly, somersaulted in the air. The man bowed reverently and effectively to the silver king. But we know he was excited, in his own holistic cool way. In five minutes he held the fish for a few seconds in water chilled by melting snowcap.
The gentleman released the salmon and shook Per’s hand. “Thank you sir.” Congratulations replied Per in his typical rapidfire English. Per is Swedish and speaks fast English like us Newfoundlanders, but without the Irish twang. Per explained that next they were scheduled the best beat on the river for a full six hours. It was now noon. The Scotsman nodded in agreement but insisted on lunch first, not the quick gas station hotdog variety, what we would have done, but a full boil-up by the river, and followed by a pipe smoke. It took a full two hours Per told us, smiling the whole while. The Scottish gentleman explained to Per that he was on a holiday, to enjoy himself, no pressure from the fish. I think he had it bloody well figured out.
I don’t know if he hunts moose or deer, but I bet he’s in no hurry to kill a beast. You know what I think? If you don’t like moose hunting, do something else, woodcutting if that soothes your soul. And salmon fishing isn’t for everyone. If you think it takes tons of patience galore, it’s not your cup of tea. Try golf or even trout fishing. The rewards are more predictable.
Enjoy your journey in the woods this fall.
There are too many people who put too much pressure on themselves, either to shoot a moose or tag a salmon. Aren’t we supposed to be enjoying ourselves in the outdoors, on rivers and in the woods? We take time off from our jobs, yard work, housework, home repairs, to breath a little, relax, and smell the roses.