Muskoka Outdoors Network

So, there I was, loading my all my fishing gear into our aluminum boat, when grandpa walked onto the dock with a slight glimmer in his eye. He asked if he could go with me this time. Without hesitation, I said sure. He smiled as he said, “Let me get my gear.”

I was looking forward to using some of my new ‘birthday money funded’ tackle.

When he returned, I noticed he only carried an old, lime green, fibreglass, fishing rod and a matching metal tackle box. As he stepped into the boat, he placed his antique gear (at least it was to me) beside my huge 6 tiered tackle box. He whispered some kind of ‘smart’ comment about my gear under his breath and proceeded to laugh about it.  I didn’t bother to ask him what he said. It was nice to have him along.

After we pulled away from the dock I asked him where he wanted to go. As if anticipating my question, he suggested we look for a shoal that he had not trolled over for many years. He pointed to a general direction across the lake and I cranked the throttle on my 15 HP Evinrude.

“I don’t recall exactly where it is but I will tell you when to stop.” he said.

I remember thinking that this could get very interesting…

Sure enough, after a few minutes, he told me to slow down. His eyes were double checking some points on the the shore and correlating them with some points from an old memory.

The fact that we were in middle of lake did not seem to worry him.

“Let’s troll here.” he said as he reached for his tackle box. When the lid flipped over in his box. I laughed inside. All he had was a rusty Williams Wobbler that would would run shallow in the depths I thought we were in. He snapped it onto his aged leader and casted behind the boat to start his troll.

I reciprocated his tackle selection by opening up my tackle box and picking out a large-lipped, Sinking, chartreuse Rapala and casted behind the boat. I left the shallow running spoon section closed in my box. This lure was going to go deep because I ‘knew’, at these depths, a spoon would not cut it.

That’s when the lesson began.

Grandpa started moving his fishing rod back and forth at random intervals.

“The fish will strike the lure when my rod is moving toward the back of the boat”, he said.  Intrigued, I started doing the same thing.

Suddenly, it hit hard and fast. That old shoal grabbed a hold of my lure and did not let go, Within seconds my line had snapped and the smell of reel grease permeated the air. An expensive birthday lure was now lost to the lurking shallows of a hidden shoal.  Grandpa started laughing and started to bring in his line.

“I should check it for weeds”, he said

His spoon only had a small weed fragment on it. Like it had just grazed the tops of the weeds on his shoal. He looked at little disappointed.

“It seems to be shallower than I remember”, he exclaimed.

I swear he was trying to rub it in.

After he had casted his line out again, I opened my tackle box and meekly put on a Williams Wobbler. Grandpa continued to show me some trolling techniques over his shoal. We did not catch any fish but it was time well spent.  Several years later I returned to the general area with a fish finder.

I have yet to find Grandpa’s shoal.

It’s funny how you come across fishing tips. Quite often fishing tips can double as life lessons.

I was sitting with my friend, Darrell, in my dad’s living room when he shared this personal story of one of his fishing trips from years ago…

The story goes that, Darrell, and a friend had been fishing Tim Lake in Algonquin Park. They had been fishing hard without any success and were constantly weighing anchor, from spot to spot, around the lake. Finally, they decided to quit and return to the river mouth that would lead them to their vehicle.

As fate would have it, the winds picked up and they began to struggle against the wind and waves. They quickly became frustrated from the amount of work they were doing while fighting the wind. An hour and half into their epic and blustery battle, Darrell, noticed that they had canoed past the river mouth they were attempting to find.

He told the man in the bow who was paddling ferociously against the wind. Darrell did not get a reply.

Fatigue and desperation began to ‘set-in’ for the two paddlers. Despite the wind, they should have reached the river mouth sooner than they had.  At that moment, Darrell noticed something.  He debated whether or not to tell his friend in the bow. He yelled one more time over the wind,

“We forgot to bring the anchor up!”

“What?!”, his friend yelled.

“WE FORGOT TO BRING THE ANCHOR UP!”, Darrell repeated.

The story ends there. I guess the look that, Darrell, received from his friend was priceless.

The lesson is simple

When fishing in high winds, don’t forget to bring the anchor up.

On a practical note – Is life, away from the fishing boat, sometimes like that? We all paddle furiously, at times, to get ahead and reach our goals. It can be so frustrating when the ‘over-worked’ ground we make is so minuscule.

Check for anchors.

Perhaps there is something that is holding you back. An anchor long forgotten. Something like a broken relationship, or a mis-management of priorities, or a wrong you need to make right.  Your hardest and best work may all be for nothing if you have not dealt with a forgotten anchor. It can also keep you from seeing what is important – like the river mouth that leads you to your car.

End of sermon.