By now you may have noticed I enjoy fishing. What you may not know is that has not always been case. When I was a young lad, fishing wasn't the technicolour, globe-trotting pastime it is today.

Sitting in a downpour on the Kebesquashashing River for hours on end waiting for the pickerel to hit as blackflies and mosquitos gnaw away at ankles and the apparently tantalizing flesh located directly behind the earlobes, isn't eveyone's idea of nirvana.  Squatting on a frozen lake as the wind whips snow across already numb hands jigging smelts through an augered hole ain't no walk in the park either. (although when the weather is nice, Northern Ontario is breathtakingly beautiful)

Additionally, the unpolished skills of the young angler often conflict with the high expectations of the more experienced fisherman. My father was particularly exacting in that regard. His biggest pet peeve was the inconvenience of manouevering the boat around whenever I got snagged. And as the fishing gods would have it, I was quite adept at lodging barbed hooks into any inanimate objects lying at the bottom of most lakes and river systems in Northern Ontario. Three Corner Lake, which is a dam-made lake on Hwy 144 on the Cartier side of the Ramsay Lake cut off and absolutely infested with deadheads, haunts me to this day. My Dad, very good friend Boo (aka Alain Bouillon pictured below) and I went to test out the pike and muskie action and I must have lost a dozen lures...including a Rapala Deep Diver which my father inexplicably insisted I use.

As I reflected on these many, supposedly painful fishing memories, I found myself smiling. For it is the extreme conditions, close proximity to nature's almost unfathomable majesty and intense emotions fishing evokes that make it so enjoyable. It is the keen sense of excitement and expectation as you set out on the still waters of a mist covered lake or stretch of ocean at dawn and drop your first offering into the depths.

It is the electric thrill of the sudden, sharp tug on the line, the bend of the rod and the scream of the reel as line zips out ... the intense curiousity that precedes catching a first glimpse of the prize as it nears the boat.

It is basking in the warm glow of the fire at days end, recalling tales of fish landed and trophies lost. Most importantly, it is the shared experiences and memories with friends and family that form lasting bonds.

Yeah, I guess you could say I like fishing.