A reel treat

Sound the trumpets and sing hallelujah. The curse has been broken.
Nearly 32 years has passed since I first saw the light of this world (my birthday’s in three weeks, all monetary gifts graciously accepted) and in that time, I have witnessed amazing things.
Some have been stirring (the beauty of this nation’s east coast, and the Northern Lights) while others have been stupefying (Anna Nicole Smith getting her own TV show).
But there have been few instances as emotionally inspiring to me as Sunday afternoon’s excursion on Lake Despair. I now can tell the story of my career fishing exploits with a happy ending attached.
I have gone fishing only four previous times, all back in my Alberta homeland. From those adventures, I came to know what Bill Murray must have felt like in “Groundhog Day.”
All four times, I went with accomplished fishing folks. They would take me to places were I was “guaranteed” to catch fish. They would bait my hooks, lend me their best rods, and show me casting techniques.
My angling mates then would proceed to reel in fish after fish after fish. All the while, I sat there, unsuccessful in my bid to snag a finned trophy. The only thing I would catch was a wicked sunburn and, on that odd lucky occasion, a rubber boot or some other treasure of the deep.
I had been offered by many here in Rainy River District the chance to break my shutout streak, but I probably held back out of sheer dread of repeating my frustrations of the past.
But I finally relented and headed out to Lake Despair with Times colleague and accomplished fishing partner Rosanne Kellar on Sunday afternoon. My expectations were lower than the water levels in this region.
I fulfilled my obligations as minnow provider and net handler for the first hour with grace, but my hope was beginning to wane, especially when Roseanne hooked her first catch of the day.
Here we go again, I thought.
Then around 3:40 p.m., we drifted into an area closer to shore. In an uncanny display of foresight, Rosanne uttered the immortal words, “We’re going to catch one here, I’ve got a good feeling.”
Yeah, right—and the Detroit Tigers are coming back to win the World Series this year, too, I thought.
But not five minutes later, with my line trolling the depths as we cruised the calm water, I felt a tug. My first instinct was it had to be weeds. What else would find its way on to my line?
But the tug persisted, and Rosanne adamantly declared I had struck gold—or a fish, anyway. Several more tugs confirmed this, and my heart nearly exited my chest in excitement. Could my jinx finally be ending?
As I reeled it in closer, I half expected the fishing gods to reveal themselves to me, point and guffaw in my direction, and then help the thrashing water creature escape to freedom. It would have been just my luck.
But with every turn of the reel, the realization became stronger. I had hooked my first fish, and he (or she) wasn’t getting away.
When that northern pike was lifted into our boat, you couldn’t have sandblasted the smile off my face. It was 16 inches long and a pound and a half in weight, but it might as well have been Moby Dick to me.
With pictorial proof safely secured, we set the pike free and I spent the next 15 minutes alternating between crazy laughs of joy and incessantly repeating, “I caught a fish!”
That was until the line tugged again, and I was even in more shock. I waited almost 32 years to get my first one, and now I’m getting two in a quarter of an hour? No way.
Yes, way. This time, it was a smallmouth bass, and it wasn’t coming in without putting up a fight. But come in it did, and I was overcome with unadulterated shock.
The tale of the tape: 11 inches, one pound. Not a keeper, but one for my memory books (and the photo accompanying this column).
Now, I’m not planning to run out and subscribe to “In-Fisherman” magazine or sock my money away for a fly-in fishing excursion anytime soon. But I will admit that, after finally hooking success in a sea of disappointment, I can see why fishing is so highly regarded by those who partake in it.
Now the only dilemma is whether to give it another shot, or quit while I’m ahead.
• • •
Interesting to hear the decision made this past week by the Canadian Junior ‘A’ Hockey League to implement nationally the removal of the centre ice red line in all of its branch circuits, including the local Superior International Junior Hockey League.
The SIJHL was the last one to go along with the idea, which is being brought in with the intention of opening the game up offensively and creating more end-to-end action in an effort to attract more fans.
Three years ago, I covered the Fort Saskatchewan Traders of the Alberta Junior Hockey League, which already had taken out the red line. From my experience, the move definitely led to a more exciting brand of hockey, with speed and skill accentuated over physical thuggery.
It will be intriguing to see if the defending SIJHL champion Borderland Thunder approach the creation of this season’s roster with one eye on establishing a team that will be able to adapt to the free-flowing style.
• • •
The Fort Frances Aquanauts will hold their second-annual La Place Rendez-Vous Canada Day Mile Swim at Pither’s Point this coming Tuesday starting at 1:30 p.m.
Last year’s event attracted 19 swimmers, with Heather Dutton ending up as the overall winner.
This year’s changes will include having the swimmers weave through a designated course, which will help make spectating and spotting easier, and the addition of a half-mile swim for participants 12 and under that will serve as a prelude to the mile-long event.
Members of the public are encouraged to sign up in one of three male or female age categories, including 12 and under, 13-19, and 20 and over. Registration will take place between 12:30 p.m. and 1 p.m. at the Rendez-Vous dock, or swimmers can pre-register by calling 274-8747 and leaving their category information.
The cost is $10, and all swimmers must bring along their own spotter to take part in the event.
• • •
One final bit of housekeeping: in an effort to silence the persistent bellyaching of my office colleagues, I hereby acknowledge my last-place finish in our 10-person NHL playoff draft.
Congratulations to overall champion and Times computer guru Lincoln Dunn. There, I’ve said it. Everybody happy? Thank you.
I’ll see you in September for the regular-season rematch. Three words: just bring it.