Month: January 2014
Far from Shore
Tis far outda sea
dat we fishermen go
ta catch da big fish
nd face da winds bold
Ders no sight ofda shore
nda suns sinkin low
nar bit closer Ta quota
wer soaked and wer cold
Ders a long trip ahead
far back toda docks
da stars arnt shining
wer hittin da rocks
Death takes us dis night
we greet em wit a smile
time to give up the fight
now we’ll rest for awhile
Love the Fog
Vancouver is a foggy place these past couple of days, personally I love when the fog blankets everything around especially when nightfall comes. Perfect conditions for a stroll.
It’s the mystery the fog creates, it makes the familiar anything but. It’s both eerie and peaceful all at the same time. The world around me cloaked in the grey mist made objects difficult to discern until within ten yards of me. Sound is muffled, the light from street lights spread out in a golden cone failing to cut through the thick fog. In the distance echoing from the depths of this grey wall the fog horns sound as the ships try to communicate their positions to each other.
It’s as if I were in a 80′s horror movie or a recently filmed episode of supernatural filmed in vanier park where fog machines tried to recreate the setting I was currently in. Mother Nature does it better.
Turning down a dark side street I made my way home, the fog was foreboding here without any street lights to light the way. I carried on with heightened senses peering through the fog trying to make sense of the shadows like I was a character on an adventure.
As if on cur, a shifting dark silhouette appeared from the mist. It was standing in one spot, fixed there aside from it’s shifting from one leg to the other. I couldn’t help but think this would be a great scene for the walking dead. I knew of course that this was a drifter I had seen many times before in the neighbourhood.
Finally home I pause and look around, it really is amazing how a little fog makes the world a little more exciting by how it limits your surroundings. Weird I know but I love the Fog.
Newfoundland In November
Travelling to Newfoundland is no easy endeavor, your biggest decision is deciding what time of year you want to make the pilgrimage, once you’ve done that then you’ll have the unfortunate task of finding an affordable flight (no easy task with the extreme fares our Canadian Airlines charge). In my opinion, avoid winter travel to Newfoundland at all costs, first thing the costs are extreme as Canada Airlines like to capitalize on the Christmas tradition of visiting family and secondly good ol Newfoundland weather will have to flying over St. John’s turning around and pitching down in Halifax or Montreal because the planes can’t land. If you’re going to travel there early spring and late fall are my favorite times, spring has the added benefit of watching the Icebergs as they pass off the cost travelling through Iceberg Alley.
I tend to travel in the fall of the year, the bugs are gone, the ocean is wild and fresh, the weather is comfortably cool and the trees are all matter of colors. My personal favorite reason though, my family usually have bagged a moose and I can even get out either fishing or hunting. Last November I finally made a trip home from the West Coast, a very long flight but I’m used to travelling. My first reaction always is to breath in a lung full of the Atlantic Ocean, anyone the has lived near the ocean knows what I’m talking about. From St. John’s my hometown is a good four to five hour drive, it’s a nice drive though.
Home is what defines me, a small harbour nestled in Fridays Bay near Twillingate and Iceberg Alley. It’s quiet, remote and almost surrounded by ocean, unlike BC the forests here are thick and tangly and the trees much shorter. I grabbed my out of province rabbit license from the local convenience store, it seems odd to do this because even after six years living on the mainland I still call this home.
My old rabbit trail is grown into a tangled mess of alders and spruce limbs making it somewhat challenging to not get lost. I admit I did have to retrace my steps more than once before I had completed the whole trail and made my way back home. With the snares tied it was simply a waiting game. The next day was a cold one, frost covered the land and ice formed over the water, the ground crunched under every step and each breath clouded in front of me. Several snares showed signs of passing rabbit, but they had been pushed to the side. I caught two large rabbits with their fur brown but showing the early signs of turning white in preparation for winter.
I kept the snares out that week, but didn’t catch anymore rabbits so I pulled all the snares up so that no rabbits would get hurt. I was happy to take up the snares, two rabbits would be enough for a great meal and I truly just wanted to have an excuse to go in the woods. The meal was amazing, rabbit and a roast of moose meat with potatoes, carrots and turnip, it was good to be home.
Survival Tales
I’ve been re-reading one of my all time favourite books and I got to thinking what other books really stuck with me?
I go through phases of reading a lot then not reading much, sometimes it’s difficult for me to push myself to a book that I don’t know anything about.
Most books I read are recommended by others who’ve done the vetting for me and know my taste in books better than I do, for that reason I needed to assess what are me personal taste in a good book?
There are only specific books that I hang onto, books that had everything I could ask for and that deserve to be read over and over again. I’m currently reading The Old Man and The Sea by Hemingway. I love the survival and how the man struggles with the need to kill this fish versus his respect for this giant if the deep whom he calls brother.
Another good book that I have read several times is The Lure of The Labrador Wild by Dillon Wallace. Survival is a main theme in this work of non-fiction, Wallace tells the story of a great adventure into the harsh unexplored interior of Labrador. Together the three friends make their stand to survive the wild.
I’ll mention one more book, Death on The Ice by Cassie Brown with Harold Horwood. Great book about the dangers of the Newfoundland Seal hunt, of course survival again strikes at the heart of this one but also like the old man from old man and the sea, the sealers are at odds with wanting to be sealing versus needing to be sealing.
I highly recommend reading these books if you’re anything like me and tales of survival get you excited. Hopefully I’ll be able to find more just like these three to add to my bookshelves.
Salmon Fishing the Vedder River
I took the Bike (motorcycle) for a long ride one October when the weather around the lower mainland BC dried up, sky looked friendly so I took a chance and grabbed my fly rod and kit donned my leather and helmet and motored my way to Coquitlam in search of the vedder river and one of its 5 species of salmon.
Didn’t take me long to find the perfect spot, I already had an idea where I would wet my fly and lucky me it was abandoned. I won’t tell you more than that about the location, need to keep fishing spots secret, you understand!
Wouldn’t you know it, salmon were running thicker than I’ve ever seen. The pinks were coming back after their two-three year hiatus in the Pacific Ocean. I had to have one.
Using a fly that I was told would be effective for pinks by the fellas at pacific angler on broadway I began scouring the river with my fly, an hour went by and I was getting a little perplexed by my failure to even get a rise when so many salmon were moving. So I switched flies, tying on a flashier and heavier fly in hopes it would sink a little as the river was clicking along at an alarming pace.
Hell it wasn’t three casts before I got a strike, but the hook didn’t set much due to my lack if practice. Another three casts and another strike this time I set the hook but wasn’t prepared for the sheer power, as it leapt from the water it appeared to be a coho and a big one.
I dipped the rod in hopes the fish wouldn’t toss my hook, it worked but the salmon was a monster and took my line to the backing as it first crossed the river then tore away down it before I could act. My heart was pumping hard from the adrenaline and I was very concerned about some fallen trees that the salmon seemed destined to snag up in, so I panicked and tried to muscle the salmon under control. Clearly the wrong thing to do, no sooner had I increased the tension did the line go slack, I had lost another salmon.
It was getting late now and I didn’t want to ride back in the dark on bike mostly because I didn’t dress as warmly as I should have. But this fishing was too good to give up on, i continued fishing but it was looking bad. Twenty minutes passed painstakingly slow and the sun got lower and lower, just as I was about to call it quits I hooked another salmon, this time a pink and it was a beauty. I played this one perfectly, giving it line when it asked for it and keeping it in when I could, soon I had it in position to land and realized my small trout dip net would not help. Gingerly I coaxed the salmon up onto shore and quickly confirmed its ID and dispatched it mercifully.
I had no time to take it all in, I bagged my catch and got to my bike. It was brutally cold coming home, a light rain had started and night came in fast. My fingers were numbing and needed to be continuously warmed from the engine, it helped only a little but the adrenaline kept me going. I arrived home frozen, tired and soaked but nonetheless a very happy man.
Great Big Canada 