I never really thought I'd learn to enjoy fishing. It involves holding worms, hooking them and sometimes injecting air into them so they'll float above the sinker. That's gross - but if I wanted to get to know the pastime with which Frank is so enamoured, I had to put my squeamish side on hold and just do it.
Now, three summers later, I scarcely shudder when removing a worm from its styrofoam container. I can hook it with hardly a wince. And my stomach only flips, and stops short of a flop when I insert a needle and squeeze air into it to puff it up a tad. It's a pleasure to be out on the boat watching loons float by. I enjoy feeling the sun on my skin and the breeze on my face. I get a kick out of feeling that tug on the end of the line and reeling in a fish sometimes occasionally rarely if I'm lucky. And if the day works out right, it's such a thrill to see the sunset on our way back to shore.
Frank's passion for fishing was not passed along to his sons. Oh they'll fish, much like I will - probably far more intuitively than I do but they don't live and breathe it the way their father has for all of his life. Fortunately, there is yet another family member who appears to be developing a love for the sport.
This video was taken shortly before we left to go up to the cottage last week. There's a creek across the road from Frank's place, and that's where he generally walks Benny twice a day. At this time of the year, salmon are swimming upstream to spawn. They make an impressive sight.
Frank doesn't fish for salmon - but others do...
I'll have some photos for you in a few days.
