Sunday, October 20, 2002
Time for new beginnings -- that's the way I like to look at autumn. If I don't, this season would drive me crazy.
That's because late October eats at my soul.
Yes, it's a beautiful time of the year. Yes, the fishing often is pretty good. And yes, the weather frequently is more pleasant than the freezing rain of early spring and the dripping humidity of midsummer.
But when the trees shed their leaves, it also means it's time to think about wrapping up that portion of the fishing year when I can hook up the Ranger and head to one of my favorite waters. For practical reasons -- like avoiding snow and ice damage -- I put the boat to bed for the winter and once she's stored, she's down until April.
You see what I mean?
Beginning of the end
I'll be out in the boat a few more weekends, but in the back of my mind I'm thinking this is the beginning of the end.
So I try to change my mind-set. I try to fool myself into believing days like Oct. 20 are the transition to the new season. It's time to sit back to examine what I've learned and start imagining how I'll apply my new knowledge next spring.
Sometimes it works.
I'm a person of reasonably sound mental health, so I've grown to accept the fact that it's good to take a break from fishing. I rationalize that too much of a good thing might allow me to take it for granted. If we eat steak every day, might there not be a chance we'd fail to appreciate it as special?
For me, fishing is a treat. It's a little reward for a hard week at work. It clears my head and enables me to drift out to a world where everyday worries are a thousand miles away. And when I get home from a fishing trip, I feel good. Even an unsuccessful trip is therapeutic that way.
Autumn, therefore, could, if I let it, help me keep fishing in balance. Putting the boat away for a few months could make me appreciate the arrival of next spring and days on the water that much more.
Locking up the boat
Go ahead and believe that, if you will. I'm lying. There will be a tear in my eye when I lock up the boat.
No number of football games can satisfy like those precious hours stalking a stump flat from my perch on the front deck, looking for that perfect shady hole where I just know a big largemouth lurks.
Not even the most festive holiday parties can take the place of a dawn run out across Lake Erie's walleye flats and smallmouth reefs.
I'd rather fiddle around the boat than fidget with the TV remote.
So here comes the parade: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's and Valentine's Day -- from trick or treat to red-foil-wrapped chocolates. Toss in the Super Bowl and the Daytona 500 as two more time-killers. Bah, humbug.
Fact is I'm envious of those who live in Florida or Texas where the can keep their boats ready to go year 'round.
Makes me wonder why my ancestors settled here, where the snow flies too much for a 12-month -a-year angler. Just my luck, I guess.
jwwollitz@aol.com