Whenever I pointed out to my father how my younger siblings always got things that I was never allowed to have, he’d say, “at least I took you fishing!”
That answer sufficed for the seconds it took me to remember… “Dad, they hated fishing!”
Some of my earliest memories are going fishing with my father. We also did a fair amount of camping, but far less frequently. Fishing was our favourite outdoor activity. Growing up, we lived all over western Canada, so we’ve fished in all sorts of lakes and rivers, as well as the ocean. During trips to Alberta to see our grandparents, we’d often go fishing with my maternal grandfather as well.
While we have angled for all types of fish, my favourite catch was always pickerel, which is what walleyes are called in western Canada. We also caught a lot of jackfish, which is another name for northern pike.
One of the greatest controversies in my family involved pickerel. When we lived in North Battleford, Saskatchewan, one of our favourite fishing destinations was where the Battle River meets the North Saskatchewan River. In late summer, water levels were so low that a large sandbar developed, forming a sort of island. Water levels often were low enough that you could wade to the “island”, which took you to a particularly good spot where the pickerel seemed to gather.
During one of those late-summer fishing expeditions, my brother caught two particularly large pickerel. However, he was about four years old at the time, and not strong enough to reel them in – one of the great things about pickerel is the fight they put up despite their size – so my father had to help them.
Pickerel are not a large fish by nature, so the eight-pounders my brother caught were pretty impressive. So much so that my father decided to have them mounted. However, in the decades that followed, they both claim that they caught the fish and have tried to take sole credit. In recent years, they’ve reached a compromise, and both recognize each other’s role in the achievement.
I also much prefer freshwater fishing to saltwater. However, one of my most memorable fishing trips was when I was in high school. At the time, we were living in Terrace, British Columbia. My father had a friend in Prince Rupert who had a fishing boat, who invited my father, me, and one of my brothers (he of pickerel fame) out one weekend. (My youngest brother was an infant at the time, so he wasn’t invited.) I’m sure my sisters were welcome to join us, but they had no interest.
Quickly after we started, not far offshore, we dropped some crap traps, and then set out for open water. Our goal was halibut, and we were quite successful. One of the best parts of the trip was that, at various times, we were able to see the coast of Haida Gwaii and Alaska. The most amazing part was seeing porpoises swimming along side us during part of the voyage. I’m sure my brother’s most significant memory of the trip was being nauseous.
A Deck of Ancestors 