News & Observer | newsobserver.com | Fishing requires sense(s)

Columns by Bob Simpson

Published: May 01, 2008 12:30 AM
Modified: May 01, 2008 02:21 AM

Fishing requires sense(s)

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PELTIER CREEK - I hadn't been fishing all week. The stormy weather had brought on a case of cabin fever.

Gene Huntsman felt the same way, complaining he couldn't take such confinement any longer. We agreed the fish should have worked up appetites by now.

The mud line on the launching ramp showed the Trent River had dropped four or five feet below the flood mark. Things looked promising as Gene backed the boat and trailer down the ramp. When the trailer's hubs reached the water level, I signaled, he set the hand brake and put the engine in park. About to step out, I noticed the truck was moving. I yelled a warning.

Gene stomped on the brakes. The truck stopped. I began to untie the boat when I sensed the truck moving again, slowly gaining speed and heading toward the water.

Vaulting back into the cab, Gene yanked the hand brake and hit the foot brakes. The truck stopped. I found a couple of fair sized rocks, jamming them behind the front wheels before Gene cautiously eased his foot off the brake. The truck inched against the chocks before fully stopping.

It took a couple of seconds to realize the transmission and parking brakes affect only the rear wheels of Gene's truck.

The lower ramp was greased with a thin layer of mud, and we'd slid to where the front wheels of the truck were within inches of the mud line.

Gene looked at me, questioning, "Think we should we try it?"

"There's no fish out there worth losing your truck!" I said.

Getting out was a little complicated, requiring rock chocks and lots of tire spinning before we eventually worked up the slippery slope -- and headed for another stream where we knew the fishing was just as good.

When it comes to fishing, most of the time, we don't have to worry about details.

There are about three, maybe four, stages in the world of fishing.

Starting with childhood, we fondly remember the bright-eyed lad with willow stick, a bit of string and a bent pin for a hook, returning down the country lane toting a stringer of fish.

Next comes the fixation on catching the biggest and most. This evolves into a population of anglers who become drawn to the latest and most powerful trucks, trailers, motors, boats, engines and electronic gear.

It's this population that provides billions of revenue dollars to which entire economies become addicted.

Graduation comes when catching becomes secondary to the goal of resting the mind, raising the spirits, achieving contentment -- attuning to the wind singing in the trees, sunset over the beaches, seabirds on the wing, rainbows of multicolored flowers sweet with perfume, unfelt alighting of a dragon fly on the fishing rod's tip, rattle of woodpeckers, wild ducks flushing, schooling porpoises and the mirroring blue of clouds on dappled waters.

That's fishing. Not pulling your truck out of the water.

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