My career as a fisherman has been a spotty one at best. There have been times when I have had a fish on that I should have kept, only to let it go. At other times I have wrestled one onto the boat that I really should have tossed back as it wasn’t worth the trouble.
I have friends who have had great luck fishing. They have only fished the small ponds near their homes and came home with a prized catch – they limited on their first try in the fertile fishing grounds and I couldn’t be happier for them.
Me? I truly wanted to catch that kind of prized fish. But over the years for one reason or another, they would slip out of my reach, the result of sloppy fishing practices and worse, poor choices in equipment.
There are indeed Plenty of Fish in the sea of love, but landing the right one can really be a hit and miss proposition.
For years I tried to use some really heavy test line to reel a fish in, you know, the 40 lb. kind, figuring that is the best way to land a prized fish that couldn’t possibly get away. I landed a few too, but only because they couldn’t get away when really, perhaps they should have.
Instead, I would struggle to get them into the boat, often at all costs. They would put up a really good fight along the way too, trying to resist my best efforts to land them. But the line was so strong that it could not break and eventually, resistance proved futile and they would succumb.
Sadly, I think they were just worn out by then. Too tired to fight any longer, they would jump right into the boat, even if they weren’t ready or even before I decided that I had met my match and contently retired from the fishing grounds.
It wasn’t until recently that I realized that using such heavy gear isn’t the best way to catch the fish you want to keep. I should have been using much lighter line all this time, one that would challenge me at every moment as I tried to reel them in.
This is not without peril. You could conceivably end up trying too hard to reel them in, breaking the line. Then they would swim away, never knowing if you were the fisherman of their dreams. Worse, some other fisherman with the right touch could bring them in, leaving you looking on in envy as they sashay off with your fish.
There’s also the danger of bringing them in too easily. You don’t want a fish that will just jump right into the boat without any challenge. As anyone knows, a fish that is too willing may not be a fish worth having at all. You want to fight for your prize, never knowing for sure if you’re going to land her.
That’s part of the fun of fishing. Landing a prized fish – a keeper – is an artform. You need the right lure, some great lines and be willing to understand that the best fish in the world is the one that you can never truly catch.
What you say? Have you lost your mind? Isn’t that the whole point of fishing?
I used to think so. It wasn’t until recently that I learned that catching your prized fish can be the worst thing you can ever do as you have to ask the age-old question, “Now that you got ’em, what are you going to do with ’em?”
Part of the sport of fishing is the sport itself. It’s in the give and take of having a fish on the line. You never know what’s going to happen. One minute it looks like you’ve landed her, the next minute she’s running with the line and you have to go back to square one. It’s a dance, a chess match between two bold adversaries, each equal to the other.
This is where I’ve discovered that a change in tackle is essential. I’ve given up on the 40 lb. line. Instead, I’ve gone with a light test. Yes, I know that too many wrong moves and I could lose this particular prize. But it also creates a more fulfilling engagement as the fish can cut and run at any moment, so you have to be totally on your game, handling her with the greatest care, knowing that if you don’t you could lose her.
The goal isn’t to get her in the boat. If that were the case, then it’s game over. I never understood that as a junior fisherman. I always thought that was the entire point of fishing. Silly me, no wonder I ended up with some fish that I should have never caught in the first place, or if I did, catch and release at once.
The simple fact is, a fish worth having is the one that remains in its element. They can remain in their own environment where they can breathe freely and flourish. They take the line because they know they can break it if need be. You pull too hard or hang on too tight and WHAM! – they are out of there! They stay to play not because they have to, but because they want to. And to achieve this delicate balance you have to engage the prize artfully, respectfully and with the greatest of patience.
There’s no need to force them into the boat. They’ll gladly stay on the line, enjoying the give and take that makes such pursuits worthwhile. They will happily take the bait and give you the ride of your life, as long as you know that you can’t truly catch them in the classic sense. You don’t want to anyway, because then they are just a trophy, and not something you really prize, a catch of a lifetime.
In the Emerald City, no longer chumming the waters of the Puget Sound,
– Robb