Fishing, friendship stand test of time

The Arkansas heat was roasting as two outdoors writers shook hands on the pavement at the entrance to the Little Rock airport. They promised they would get together soon to go fishing, and then parted for their flights home.

The year was 1984.

The handshake happened after the 1984 Bassmaster Classic in Pine Bluff, Ark. Over the years, the writers bumped into each other several times annually at fishing events around the U.S. Each time, they vowed they would check their calendars for a date to fish Erie or Mosquito or the Ohio River.

Time flew, and 32 years after their first pledge, the two writers finally enjoyed their Scribes Day on the Lake. The writers – D’Arcy Egan and me – shoved off the dock at Mosquito Creek Reservoir last Saturday with ear-to-ear grins.

“Finally,” said D’Arcy, whose long career as the Plain Dealer’s outdoors editor included a dream list of expeditions to fishing and hunting venues close to home and around the world.

A lot of water passed under our boats in the decades since our first “I’ll call you soon with a couple of dates.” We’ve graduated from typewriters and fax machines to laptops and wireless. Today, our phones are cameras and deadlines are fulfilled with a click.

D’Arcy retired a while ago, but he’s still on full alert for the latest scoops.

The technology has changed, but it’s still about stories. Big fish. Lots of fish. Angling highs and lows. People and personalities. Issues and answers. Learning, experiencing and sharing. It’s all jet fuel for outdoors writers.

This day, the story was us. D’Arcy and Jack, finally getting together for a day on the water. We brought rods, lures, snacks and stuff. We were glad to go fishing but really didn’t care whether we’d catch anything.

Conversation flowed like a river’s rapids. Ideas and recollections bubbled to the surface – from the emergence of Lake Erie as the Walleye Capital of the World to the pure joy of jostling a hollow-body frog through lily pads with the anticipation of a bass explosion.

D’Arcy is Irish through and through. His hair and beard are silvery white, and his eyes flash the mirth that always is bouncing in his head. He is the kind of character who always finds fun, regardless of the setting or circumstances.

He struck first. A largemouth gulped the creature bait he’d been swimming through the coontail. Soon enough another fish bit, this time on my bait.

The day already was a big success. Our fish were like good quotes in a fishing story. They added color and context to the water we’d covered.

Time flew and hungry hit. At Mosquito, that’s an easy fix. We pointed my BassCat at the Mosquito Marina where Joe Sofchek’s cheeseburgers powered us up to return to fishing.

Stories flowed on. He’s got plenty of material. D’Arcy has fished with TV anglers and entertainers, Cleveland Browns and Indians. As one of the deans of the academy of outdoors writers, he’s experienced more than the average angler.

“You know,” I reflected, “you and I probably are the only two people on Mosquito Lake today who can say they had dinner with the Clintons.”

He laughed and agreed wholeheartedly.

That was three decades ago when then-Gov. Bill Clinton invited Bassmaster Classic anglers and media to a barbecue at his house in Little Rock. That was the same week we pledged to go fishing when we got back to Ohio.

Time flies. Much has changed. But much is still the same, like fishing and friendship.

jack@innismaggiore.com