O, Canada

Saturday, 14 June 2003

Damn, I sure need­ed that trip. Canada was ex­cel­lent, the fish­ing was great, the food was wun­der­bar, the weath­er was per­fect. I caught the biggest Northern Pike, the two largest walleye, and the largest per­ch [in­sert snick­er here].

and read on.

It had been sev­en years since I had last made the trek to Ear Falls, Ontario, the Bald Eagle Capital [of what ex­act­ly, they do not spec­i­fy] for a fish­in’ trip. Much was as I had re­mem­bered it. Western Ontario is des­o­late of civ­i­liza­tion [we bare­ly had re­cep­tion on the on­ly ra­dio sta­tion — an AM sta­tion], and er­go won­der­ful. God’s Country ma’am. I saw moose, beaver, ea­gle, mink, bear, deer, loon, ot­ter, and i should not ne­glect to men­tion the fish, north­ern pike, walleye, and per­ch.

The fish­ing was the best I’ve ever ex­pe­ri­enced, my un­cles con­curred. The Ontario con­ser­va­tion pro­gram has done a good job im­prov­ing the fish­ing in Canada’s lakes, they low­ered the bag lim­it to 3 fish and 1 tro­phy fish per species from its pre­vi­ous lim­it of 5 and 1 re­spec­tive­ly. For pike, they al­so made a pro­tect­ed slot for the fish size, be­tween 27.5 and 35.5 inch­es. This con­tin­u­um is the prime breed­ing size for pike. The pike fish­ing wasn’t the best [al­though i did catch a 10 pounder that was 35 inch­es], but we caught many small ones [ham­mer-han­dles] which bodes well for com­ing years.

The walleye were enor­mous. In pre­vi­ous years we have been hard pressed to catch an 18 inch walleye, but this year, we glad­ly re­leased walleye af­ter walleye that were from 20 – 23 inch­es in length. These bug­gers were mon­sters. We found a spot where we would catch a fish al­most every pass of the boat, and re­turned there for most of the week. 2 of my walleye were the best ones we caught, I had both a 5 pounder and a 6 pounder, filets of which I have brought home to cook for my friends. We go to Canada for the walleye, and the walleye sure as hell were there this year. [they are aliased as pick­erel and sauger too].

The ride up was long but not over­ly so, we ate din­ner in Eveleth, Minnesota [home of the US Hockey Hall of Fame] at the Sawmill, as un­so­phis­ti­cat­ed as it sounds. However, it was quite a large place, and chock-full of young beau­ti­ful wom­en. I didn’t pay much at­ten­tion to my food. Next door to Eveleth is Virginia, MN, the Land of the Loon. When we crossed through International Falls to Canada, it was quite late. The bor­der guard who let us through was quite nice for a la­dy in a flak jack­et.

Traveling with my un­cles was good, and de­spite their con­stant send­ing me up, i main­tained my calm and shot right back at ‘em. Corbin was a bit try­ing at times, telling me how to do every­thing, but that is just what hap­pens when a Berkshire [him] clash­es with an­oth­er Berkshire [or half of one in my case]. Dean was quite pa­tient and pi­lot­ed the boat for most of the trip.

We used the trip [us men] I think as a way to talk about things that nev­er get talked about oth­er­wise, we talked about my dad a bit, and they dis­cussed some of the things that trou­bled them as well. There was even some phi­los­o­phiz­ing.

While I was up there, I got some ideas for po­ems as well, which is good news for me.

After be­ing on a boat for an en­tire day, I had ful­ly de­vel­oped my old sea-legs. The prob­lem is, on­ce I’m back on land, every­thing has a nice reg­u­lar rock­ing mo­tion to it. Distinctly no­tice­able when you close your eyes.

The po­lice in Ontario are called the O.P.P.

i’m sure there was more but i can’t think of it now. if you wan­na know some­thing just ask.

Gone Fishin.

Thursday, 5 June 2003

I’m leav­ing bright and ear­ly to­mor­row morn­ing to go fish­in’ in Canada. I’ll be back on the 15th, hope­ful­ly with a load of walleye and north­ern pike filets. This will qual­i­fy as my first va­ca­tion in about ten years. The last va­ca­tion was my last trip to Canada. I was on­ly twelve or thir­teen.

I’m go­ing with my un­cles, just the three of us, in­stead of typ­i­cal groups of eight to ten. It should be quite laid back and re­lax­ing. There is no bet­ter med­i­ta­tive ex­er­cise for me than sit­ting on a boat and fish­ing from can see to can’t see.

Untitled

Tuesday, 21 January 2003

Since to­day is the busiest day of my week i’m just go­ing to give you my home­work as­sign­ment for my po­et­ry writ­ing class.

the as­sign­ment: Write a po­em in the third per­son about an event ex­ter­nal to you. The even does not have to be fa­mous or on a large scale. (Do not write about September 11).

the re­sult:

An an­gler sits on the river­bank
Waiting for friends to call
One has whiskers
The oth­er a lantern jaw

With line in deep wa­ters
Clouds and time stream by
For com­pa­ny a squir­rel
And a hunt­ing hawk’s cry

He thinks while he waits
Checking the worm on his hook
While day flows to dusk
And shad­ows the brook

When night fi­nal­ly falls
He packs up and leaves
No fish joins his meal
And there is wind in the trees

There is no great shame
To leave with­out fish
And ex­pect­ing to catch one
Is cer­tain­ly fool­ish

Its not about sport
The fisherman’s part
Its hook­ing the si­lence
That makes it an art

i’m sure this will make its way over to ver­balimpo­tence even­tu­al­ly.