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Defining success in fishing
The Fourth of July was a firecracker weekend for me, but I never lit a fuse.
With the hot weather settling over Northeast Ohio, I had few expectations that the dog days fishing would be memorable. Happily, I was wrong.
Let’s face it. If fishing were only about catching, most of us would return home beaten. Teasing fish into biting is hard work. Failure is a frequent outcome.
While I do catch my fair share, I learned long ago to rationalize that fishing is about the experience more than whatever success I achieve. I’ve also learned to begin each trip with my fishing friends with a disclaimer:
“Who knows if we’ll catch anything? The fishing has been tough, so I offer no guarantees.”
Not that that gets me off the hook, but it does work to set the bar low. Then, if we manage to catch a few, my fishing guest is delighted. It’s all about the expectations.
I used my “no guarantees” line twice over the weekend of the Fourth.
First was with my friend Steve Luttner. He’s a man of many interests. A Cleveland pro-sports fan extraordinaire and former newspaper reporter who’s had the opportunity to interview presidents and other interesting people, Steve likes to fish but rarely has the opportunity.
So when I asked whether he was interested in a trip on the Ohio River, he thought briefly and said, “I’m in.”
He drove down from Richfield, met me in Canfield and we towed the BassCat south on Ohio 11 toward East Liverpool. “By the way,” I said. “The fishing has been tough, so I offer no guarantee we’ll catch anything.”
No problem, Steve said, glad just to be going out on the boat.
What a fine day we enjoyed. The weather was spectacular. A bald eagle glided over a tree-lined ridge. Commercial barge traffic was brisk and a train clattered on the tracks near Wellsville. Cars buzzed over the river’s bridges and river town neighbors drank coffee while sitting on riverfront perches.
The water was clear and the current was nil. Naturally the fishing was pretty much what I had predicted in my sunrise rendezvous disclaimer. We managed to catch a few home aquarium-sized smallmouth and largemouth bass and a pair of rock bass. Steve had a keeper smallie swipe his crankbait, but it jumped free.
No problem. He was pleased just to boat the river’s length from Stratton and Newell past Wellsville, East Liverpool and Chester to Shippingport and beyond to the Montgomery Lock and Dam in Pennsylvania. He was interested to see the sights and hear the sounds. He loved the fishing even though the catching was sketchy.
Two days later, wife Barb and her friend Marian Gura joined the festivities at the annual Bedford Trails Golf Course Independence Day picnic and bass tournament. Marian likes to fish, but doesn’t own rods, reels and lures. Barb asked me to outfit her friend.
“Who knows, Marian, whether this will catch you any bass?” I disclaimed as I tied a tiny spinnerbait to her line. “I offer no guarantees.”
Lo and behold, the lure worked. Barb and Marian for a couple of hours were little girls again with no worries about ailments, bills and other grown-up stuff. Their only concern was the next cast and whether a Bedford bass might bite their baits.
It was a firecracker weekend. Two days of fishing that began with minimal expectations and ended up two of my more-memorable visits to the water – two days that help me to continue defining success in fishing.