There is a rapture on the lonely shore;
There is society, where none intrudes.
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more...

-Lord Byron

Definition of Walkabout :

a short period of wandering as an occasional interruption of regular work
Showing posts with label fishing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fishing. Show all posts

31 August 2016

taking some time to fish

"Time spent fishing should not be deducted from one's life."

This saying is usually found on a bumper of an old pick up truck, or on a block of wood in a desk of one's attic.

Funny thing though, it's entirely true.
You can get so wrapped up in wanting to have that big adventure, the one that you think will change your life, that you don't realize how important, even necessary, time spent doing the little things that you enjoy are.
The amount of fish caught wasn't important.
Luckily, for me, I got plenty of the important stuff accomplished.

12 August 2015

Family time

It seems that the days of taking a week off to be together as a family have gone by the wayside. Children grow, responsibilities creep upon us, and life in general seems to choke out the time we all once used to have available.

So we settle for a weekend away up at the Fruitland cabin.

I'll take what I can get, which included teaching my nephew how to gut his own fish,

my niece going fishing for the first time,

Family target practice assaulting a whole slew of soda cans,

with games of horse shoes, card games, and a clinic on making the best smores in the land.

Yes, I'll take what time I can get.

25 July 2015

time at Trial

The green leaves guide my path on front of the Great Mountain,
clear blue water shimmers before my wrinkled and gnarled fingers.

I tie a knot, set my footing on the small stones of yesteryear
and reach back and let fly.

The mighty hawk is overhead, circling with predatory purpose as I keep a watchful on the line as a breeze passes by.

A squirrel comes by to chat, plays for a moment, then disappears back into the forest.

The clouds become time, ticking away the hours as my skin becomes a shiny apple.

The Uinta mountains are now a part of the countdown.

10 September 2014

A vignette of family, food and fishing.

You may know that you are loved when your shirt is taken off your back and used to dress the favorite cabin tree.

Perhaps you may know you are loved when you are teaching the youngsters the trick to the perfect roasted marshmallow.
You may find love in frying the previous days catch for breakfast, or perhaps in reminiscing about being on the lake, waiting in anticipation for your line to show signs of a nibble.
You may find love in just working the land in your old reliable tractor.
Love may be in the beauty of a morning sun rising to warm your face.
One thing that I am pretty sure of, the love never seems to run out up here in the mountains, when surrounded by family and friends.

08 July 2012

Lord Calvert Springs

Lord Calvert Springs will forever be synonymous with the man I only knew as Grandpa Leo. A man who wasn't my Grandpa at all. A man who tells it like it is with a scotch and water, little ice if you would please.

Back in the sage brush and pine mountains that he called home while alive, we rest in blue sky and sunshine. Time is a non factor. We hearing the fishing is good and head to a secret cove my brother knows, safely anchored from the wind and occasional mid day thunderstorms. Deer find their way to quench their thirst, beaver scurry about building their home on the lake shore, we pull trout from the water to abundance.

The little ones catch their first fish ever, excitement brimming across porcelain skin. The adults take them under their wing, show them the circle of life as we knife the life out of our dinner, fry them with butter, and lick the fresh meat from our fingers. Savage can be the mountainous routine.

We sleep well.
The next morning rises, as it always does, to crystal clear skies and soaring temperatures. We want to get to the lake early before the heat is unbearable.

The adults stretch tired bones on wakeboards while the little ones work up the courage to enter the deep water. We remind them of Grandpa Leo and they summon the strength to brave the waters.

With no ticking clock, one watches the sun rise and set. Clouds burst into strange shapes in an endless sky. Hummingbirds dance on the air. Grandpa Leo presses ever so slightly on my shoulder, gently tapping his fingers through the heavens.

27 January 2012

stick fishing

Some of my earliest, happiest memories involve fishing. Sitting with my Mom and Pop along a lake shore as a child, biking with my best friends to a local pond during the long summer vacations as a kid, and more recently sitting solitary along a slow moving river just reading and enjoying nature.
But I'd never thought I would be stick fishing for piranhas in the Amazon.
"Life is funny" I thought as I was handed a raw chunk of beef to use as bait. With the line only being about fifteen feet long at the most, tied to a five foot stick, I flung the raw meat as far as possible into the green water, letting my natural fishing instincts kick in.
It wasn't more than a few seconds when I felt the first hard bite. I soon got a feel for how the fish were hitting the bait, and before long I was flinging piranha's into our boat, to the amazement of the other fishers and the guide.
I was in heaven.
The others kept asking me for my secret, but I didn't have one. It would be like asking Michael Jordan how to play basketball, or Stephen King how to write horror.
You just do.
As tales of fishing go, this day was one that will be drifting at the top.

27 July 2011

Fleet Foxes & fishing

"Enchanted" would most accurately describe how I felt when she first opened her mouth and sang.

The girl and I stopped our conversation at the sound of Alela Diane and Wild Divine.
The night only got better. Rounds of drinks with old friends and new, home made cookies and pasta devoured, as we all relaxed on the grass to Fleet Foxes.
Straggled home around midnight, and laid down my head for a few hours before I was to rise again.
When the call to fish goes out, I answer.
Before the sun rises, I'm back on the road, sunroof open and breathing in cool mountain air.

It's how I celebrate.
The fish were scarce, but the good company wasn't. With a new watering closet on the boat, we made the best of it....
( no peeksies)

I was able to catch a monster three pounder, but rules are the bugger must be at least 22 inches, and mine was just shy, ( stupid rules) and so this guy lived to swim another day. I know my animal lovers and vegetarian friends will be happy.
That's how we roll on a Pie & Beer holiday weekend in the UT.