To Fish v.

Fish, to catch or try to catch fish, or, to look for something [finned creatures?] by feeling one’s way; grope. Take your pick. The first definition implies some modicum of skill or art as if the fisher knows what he’s doing. The second, and possibly more accurate, implies a great deal more participation by Lady Luck in the process. Lets go groping and if we’re lucky, we’ll have a fish fry.

Fishing, as a means of providing sustenance for one’s family or village, and later coin for one’s pocket, has been around for a LONG time. The earliest known story of fishing is in the Bible; the story of Jonah and the whale. The whale swallowed Jonah then after a while, spit him out. Jonah is credited with originating the phrase, “You should have seen the one that got away.” Actually, he probably stole the phrase from the whale.

Jesus Christ is well known as the first “how to” fisherman, telling Peter from which side of the boat to cast his net. If Jesus were here today he would have his own fishing show and be sponsored by Zebco. This fishing trip was also the first competitive fishing event. This is evident by the count at days end, “an hundred and forty and three”. There is no mention of how he placed in the tournament, just the count. We do know they were fishing for soles.

Isaac Walton was the first to write of fishing for fishing’s sake. He described fishing as, “the contemplative man’s sport.” Walton wrote of Piscator and Venitat plying the waters with rats and great wads of feathers for pike and chubs and of later taking their catch to the local inn to have it cooked for dinner by the voluptuous scullery maid. Unfortunately, his writing leaves you to wonder which was more attractive to him, the fishing or the scullery maid.

Today, we fish for recreation. It’s a form of escape that few pursuits provide. No crowds, no phone, leave the beeper at home, no TV, hopefully no radio. It’s the act of doing it that counts, not so much the moments of excitement when one is successful doing it. It is truly a contemplative sport. In between relatively brief interludes of adrenaline charged activity the angler has the opportunity to observe nature and turn ones thoughts inward, to solve the world’s problems. It is therefore not a game of counting, of how big one certain fish was, or how many were caught, but a game of losing oneself in the mental revelry of not doing anything else.

To cast your lure through the air in a graceful arc. The sound of line coursing through the guides of your pole and the spool spinning on your reel. To place it in the seemingly perfect location; the rings of water radiating from the lure as it comes to rest. To begin the retrieve and feel the vibrations of the lure pulsing invisibly through the water. To feel the lightest change in tension on the line as a fish bumps the lure. To feel the adrenaline surge through your veins as a fish slams the bait, turns it’s head, and swims madly for cover. The strike; the chorus of, “FISH ON.” The sound of the drag as line is wildly stripped off the reel by the yet unseen fish. The strikingly beautiful colors and markings of the fish. To feel it’s cool hard body as you remove the hook from it’s jaw. To reverently revive the fish and feel it alive, cupped in your hand under the water as its lungs are reoxyginated before gently swimming away; knowing it’s alive and strong. Hoping it grows to be caught again. You have to feel it and see it and hear it; you have to sense it to believe in it.Think of fishing as less a competitive event and more a contemplative one, one to be sensed rather than counted. To quote a wise man, “A man has to believe in something, I believe I’ll go fishing.”