Life and Fishing

Written on November 28, 2009 and originally posted to my Facebook profile.

The mornings started early. By early, I mean before 6:00 am, which is early on a Saturday when you're a school kid and Saturday is your day to "goof off". We'd load up our day's provisions and fishing rods into the car and set out from home for a destination, while only about a two or three hour drive away, was in a universe entirely different from my childhood home in the suburbs of Vancouver, British Columbia.

I don't remember how old I was when Dad and I took our first fishing trip to Cheakamus Lake, a jewel of a lake enmeshed in the Coast Mountains in Garabaldi Provincial Park near Whistler, British Columbia. I think I was probably around seven or eight years of age at the most. I always looked forward to these trips with the greatest anticipation.

While fishing seemed, on the surface, to be the main purpose of these trips, as I look back on them, I realize now that they were much more than just a quest for something different to eat. I recall many a trip where we returned with no fish, but still satisfied with the day's efforts. No, these trips were as much about the journey there and back, and the time spent in the wilderness, learning to love and appreciate the beauty of nature, as they were about any quest for fish. These were times that I spent alone with Dad. The long drive north on Highway 99 was a time when I'd hear stories about his youth and the times he spent with his father on the farm they lived on in Alberta. Other times, it was a cultural lesson about the Middle East, where Dad worked for a brief time. Mostly, I just remember the time we spent together. It was special. And yes, I learned a thing or two along the way.

At the end of the drive, we had a two mile hike to the lake, which for a scrawny little pint-size such as myself was often daunting. Gamely, I would push through, and Dad would patiently wait for me. Sometimes he would humor me and let me walk a little bit ahead of him, just so I'd think I was able to hike faster than he could.

I remember years later, sometime when I was in my 20's, and Dad was reminiscing about these trips at a family gathering, he talked of another fishing spot we stopped at on the way to Cheakamus. Getting to this spot required a descent along a steep scree slope. He talked of how I just fearlessly clambered down the rocks as if I was just running around in the backyard. As I remember that particular trip, I remember that I always knew that if Dad was there, nothing could hurt me. He was always there with a hand if I needed it, but like him, I was often stubbornly independent and usually resisted help until faced with a rock that was much bigger than my childish ego. Although I didn't know it at the time, when I was clambering down those rocks, Dad was feeling quite afraid for my safety. Such was my innocence that I thought Dad had the magic ability to protect me simply by being there.

I don't know when or why we stopped with these trips. It was probably around the time I was approaching my teen years; a time when fishing with Dad was no longer "cool". Perhaps it was because Dad was working in another city, and the time for these trips just wasn't available anymore. Whatever the reason, they just faded out of our routine altogether. But, the memories and lessons learned never did.

Besides learning how to tie a lure onto the end of a line, and how to properly cast, there were bigger lessons that I learned on those trips that I have only realized later in life. For instance, I learned that patience brings the best reward, which on a fishing trip is fresh trout for breakfast. I also learned that it is called "fishing" for a reason: if it were all about just catching fish, it would be called "catching"--it's about the experience more than it ever is about actually catching anything. Such as it is when you're fishing, I have come to realize in life it is often the journey that is more important than the actual destination. I also learned that there are beautiful places in this world that are worth preserving so that other fathers may take their sons and daughters there and teach them valuable lessons about life...and fishing.