Fly fishing for fun and relaxation

RIGHT NOW, WORD HAS probably reached the coach of the Canadian national rowing team that there’s this middle-aged guy in Ontario who can paddle faster than anything you’ve ever seen.

It is true I was going awfully fast yesterday while trying to fish, but I must confess, it was mostly due to high winds.

Canoeing in a high wind can be a bit of a challenge. Fly fishing in a high wind is an even greater challenge.

So why, you ask, did I choose to fly fish from a canoe in high winds?

The answer is I did not choose this at all.

When I got to the lake, the wind was lying in ambush behind a cloud.

The water looked placid and inviting – perfect for a man alone in a 17-foot sail, I mean canoe. So I launched.

That dastardly wind waited for just the right moment – when I was 50 feet off shore, right in the middle of my first cast – to start howling.

Before I had even finished my cast, I was 50 metres down the lake. I was about to call it a day when, in an overt act of malice and retribution, a fish struck.

By the time I landed the

3-inch bass, I was another 100 metres down the lake and, for a moment, passing two guys on jet skis. I have never been a big fan of jet skis but when they abandoned the race and showed off by driving to where they actually wanted to go, that pretty well sealed the deal.

There are two ways to go in a situation like this. You can try to turn your canoe into the wind and paddle back to shore or you can simply enjoy the ride, which is admittedly hard to do while trying not to soil your pants. I chose the latter. I managed to paddle and steer into the wind shadow of a deserted island and actually had a good time fishing for a few minutes – until the wind direction changed and threatened to dash my canoe on the rocks and make me a castaway.

I was simultaneously paddling and trying to imagine what I’d look like with a full beard and building a hut made out of pine needles when I managed to clear the end of the island, only to get swept out into the middle of the lake so I could spend quality time among the white caps.

In fact, I was being swept further and further from the landing.

Now, I never got good grades in geography but I’m pretty sure I had entered the area where only dragons lie and was quickly being blown towards the edge of our flat world.

Desperation like this makes you do crazy things, so I stopped fishing and picked up a paddle again. This time I began paddling in earnest with the prow of the canoe cutting each big wave towards the launch. The process was simple: advance three paddle strokes forward, retreat two paddle strokes back. And in the midst of all those strokes, try not to have one.

Eventually, I made it, exhausted and with sore muscles, back to the landing.

Just then, the two guys with jet skis pulled up and saw me unload my fly rods.

One said, “Fly fishing from a canoe, huh? Boy, that looks relaxing.”

To which, I nodded and replied, “You ought to try it some time.”