Fishing

Fishing A walk down the memory and imaginary lanes I don't know anything about deep or 'shallow' sea fishing and don't think I ever will (firsthand, I mean) unless the mountain in me takes a plunge into one sea. I've recently read about low-tide fishing with its tarred twine, fish traps, fishing nets, outcrops, bladder vraic (most probably, more commonly known as bladderwrack, vraic being seaweed from the Channel Islands), the prawns or shrimps, lobsters, conger eels, razor shells, and other fish or marine animals. Boats have their lures, too. Rowing, skimming, feathering, and sculling altogether still make no sense in my mind but they do stir my imagination, get my feet itchy, tickling my curiosity while oozing adventure. Although river fishing is no more familiar to me than sea fishing, rivers are. I remember my father recounting once how he would explore the bottoms of rocks in his village river, looking for trout, joined by searching parties of kids of all ages, in somewhat cold waters; however, the joy of searching and capturing the fish far outweighed the slight numbness in their feet. His experience becomes a bit mine and is also the closest I've ever come to trout fishing. And, thus, the movie "A River Runs through It" has popped up in my mind (not the more classic The Old Man and the Sea, although that could make the subject of another episode), a movie that revolves around a river, fly fishing, and a family in Montana, adapted from Norman Maclean's book with the same name. There are so many great quotes from both the book and the movie that I'm going to stop at the one that gave its title. "Like many fly fishermen in western Montana where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise. Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters." Shall I not say that at that moment he had reached perfection? He matched his strength up to that of the river. Pure beauty. Otherworldly beauty. What's left of fishing is a man. In the quest for themselves. A man in the quest for another. Reference sources: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0105265/ https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/49325401-a-river-runs-through-it Sidenotes: man = a person of either sex Picture credits: http://www.freepik.com/ Designed by Freepik Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.