No boundaries
Too bad that spirit of cooperation can’t be brought to the ground.
Too bad politicians, religious leaders, heads of state, and people of significant global influence, do not spend more time chasing salmon and trout around the world, meeting each other on equal terms in waders.
Well, indeed, some do, and I’m confident we are better off for it. But how much better we are for the fishing is difficult to measure. People rarely fight on salmon rivers and trout streams. Folks from different nations become friends in the running water. There are no political boundaries in fly fishing.
This I know first hand. Too bad that spirit of cooperation can’t be brought to the ground, my opening sentence. Am I taking about from river to solid earth, or sea to land? What is the connection to fishing?
Nothing at all, at least not in the literal sense, but the spirit of the game is strikingly similar.
My opening line was the closing sentence to an article written about space exploration, by Bob Mcdonald for CBC, just a few days ago, Sept. 29.
I read it over my early morning coffee and felt good about the universe, at least in the Earth’s exosphere and beyond. Lately there’s been lots of nasty and sad news down under the clouds.
It can be depressing to read the headlines.
Mcdonald outlined the history of space exploration by the two major players and traditional foes, although never a shot has been fired that I know of. Cold War antagonists I suppose is a more fitting term. I am, of course, talking about Russia and the United States.
The Cold War ended and relations between Earth’s superpowers warmed. Although the air has become frosty over recent alleged election meddling. Who knows what the truth is? Many of us don’t care much.
I think Putin and Trump should go fishing together and sort things out, maybe bring along a few democrat and republican senators.
I know Putin likes to fish. I saw his photo holding a Ponoi salmon on a lodge wall on Russia’s Kola Peninsula. I’m not sure if The Donald fishes, has waders, or even a proper fishing hat. I wonder who would catch more fish? Trump does not like to lose.
Back in 1957 the Russians launched Sputnik-1. It was the first artificial Earth satellite. The Americans didn’t like Russia getting ahead in the game. The cold war was on and there was definitely military advantage to be gained by putting stuff in orbit. Anyway, through the jigs and reels of politics and technology, the race began in earnest to put a man on the moon.
I was born in 1959, a kid in the 60’s, right in the thick of it all, the Apollo moon missions were mainstream. The Americans eventually won what was an astronomically expensive race for the treasuries of both nations. I sat in front of our TV late into the night of July 21, 1969 and watched Neil Armstrong take the first step on the moon. Thanks Mom and Dad for letting me stay up all night for the first time. It was really a big deal.
After Congress crushed plans for a giant American Space Station in the 1980’s America looked for help in space. Who else, but the other great space faring nation would do?
This kind of stuff costs even more than Muskrat Falls. No one country can afford to explore space alone, nor should they. It is meant to be an international effort, to go boldly where no person has gone before, the final frontier. It is fitting for us to team up. Anyway, the Russian Mir Station and the American Sky lab became the International Space Station. Other countries, including Canada, are also involved.
The latest space news is that Russia and the United States plan to put a space station in orbit around the moon. Great stuff. It will serve as a staging platform for deeper space exploration as well as lunar landings. China and the private sector are also involved. I like it, amidst all the turmoil about election interference, Syria, and the goings on with North Korea.
The later is no doubt a big problem for China in its bid to be a respected world power.
Maybe Kim Jong-un should buy a fishing rod and make some new friends.
Him and Trump could go fishing in Russia and share a boat for a day.
I bet when the sun sank below the hills they would at least not wish to kill each other, maybe not want to nuke each other’s countries. Chat over shore lunch might lead to a degree of appreciation for each other’s nation and culture. I wonder would Trump net Kim’s salmon for him, or loan him a fly? Anyway, at least space exploration is shedding borders, like salmon fishing has, without dire consequences. We are all from the dust of this planet. Why not be friends and cooperate, to explore the universe and conserve our fish, rivers and oceans here are home.
Growing up during the Cold War, watching the space race and cheering for America, I never thought in a million years, that I’d be fishing for salmon in the former Soviet Union. I’ve been there twice and I’m going again.
I have wonderful Russian friends that I email with. They are just like us, folks who love their families, work because they have to, and go fishing when they can. I wonder do they talk about fishing on the International Space Station?
I know there must be astronauts who like to fish, and anglers love to talk.
The last time I fished Ponoi it felt like a session of the United Nations. There were guides and anglers from all over our blue planet.
Let’s see. There were guides from Scotland, British Columbia, South Carolina, England, Argentina, Ireland, and Russia of course. I’m still corresponding with four of them.
And the fishers with fly hailed from Canada, America, Scotland, Finland, Sweden, England, France, Germany and places I probably am forgetting. I’ve become good friends with a keen angler who lives in Munich.
He’s from Dublin originally, and can speak five or six languages, including Gaelic. He learned to speak with a Newfoundland accent so quickly, a gift for languages and dialects, from the travel gods, I imagine.
Like space, angling and sport has no boundaries.
One night in Russia I brought up the topic of hockey while sharing a drink with an angler and a chopper pilot, both from Russia. They were around my age. We talked about the 1972 hockey series.
It felt surreal talking to Russians about that winning goal by Paul Henderson. They were glued to the TV in Moscow, just like I was in Spaniard’s Bay.
One loved the Habs. We talked of the great Jean Béliveau, and the greatest tie game ever, New Years Eve 1975, Montreal vs. Red Army. They were watching. I told them that Vladislav Tretiak was the best goalie ever on this planet. They told me that he’s now involved in politics.
Later we talked of fishing as kids, how our father’s took us fishing on weekends.
We are, indeed, all the same. Why would we want to destroy each other’s homeland? What nonsense. There’s good fishing everywhere.