Quinte Fishing

If I waited until I was certain I had a partner, I wouldn't be able to fish nearly as often. Ditto for climbing - I spent eight days in September making a solo ascent of a 3000' granite cliff in Yosemite, California. One of the reasons I climb alone [besides not having to depend on anyone else] is because it ups the "adventure ante." Solo fishing is no different.

One of the most memorable nights I had was back when my dad and I still fished out of our car-topper. For whatever reason he was unavailable [probably down south of something!] and I decided to give it a shot solo. It would have been the mid-90's, I reckon.

So I drove from Oakville to Picton in a blinding snowstorm [being a skier, this doesn't bother me too much]. The boat was on top, rather than being trailered, though dragging a trailer through a snowstorm isn't much of a deterrent either. Now this was in the pre-quintefishingdotcom days, so I didn't have any fresh info. Picton Bay was frozen, and the ice line was almost to the cement plant! It was snowing like mad when I launched the boat at McFarland's. I trolled around in my little boat in the middle of the night in blowing snow next to the ice line, and over beside the cement plant. I clearly remember the night. I caught either five or six fish.

All the while it was snowing, and I knew there had to be at least a foot of the stuff on the ground! They don't plough McFarland's, and I had serious concerns about being able to drive out of the place. But that wasn't my biggest concern - I was worried about getting the boat back up on top of the van! I wasn't sure I could do it alone!

Anyway, I finally headed back, and found it easier to drag the boat across the snow. I managed to heave it back on top of the van. It's amazing what you can do when you're motivated - kinda like those 95 pound wives rescuing their trapped farmer husbands from beneath overturned tractors. Were it my [now-ex-]wife, she'd have run the discer over me too, just to make sure. [Which wouldn't have been altogether bad as it would have saved me a lifetime of heartache. I digress....] Anyway, I spent the next 300 k driving home in more snow. And between the swishes of the wiper blades, the outside observer could not help but notice my BSEG - big sh*t eating grin.

Fishing this time of year is all about adventure. Adventure requires risk and uncertainty, and great passion. If the outcome were certain - be it fishing or climbing - it wouldn't be half the fun. What's the point if everyone can do it? What fun is it if you win every time? Only with great risk comes great reward, and fishing is no exception. Investing a day to drive 600k to go fishing in big water during the cold months of the year involves huge risk - a long drive, expense of gas and time, and you might end up skunked, or even dead if you blow it. [Note: Dr. Piton emphatically recommends you not end up dead. Ending up dead is NOT COOL, yet every now and then in the Bay of Quinte, someone manages to do it]

Next time you're faced with the dilemma of a partner who has "keffled out", why not up your adventure ante and go for it alone? Nothing beats the adventure of battling the winds, waves and frigid waters on your own to catch [and release] trophy walleyes! Because when you stand on the summit having reached it solely through your own efforts, or net that whopper 'eye while bobbing in the waves all by yer lonesome, you'll have no one to congratulate you but yourself. [And if you get skunked, the converse is also true.] But sometimes the pats you give yourself on the back are the best pats of all.

Shut up and fish.

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Self-unemployed and available for fishin' mid-week most days.