Retired With Nothing Better To Do: Becoming A Piscator Millionaire

 Been almost a year and a half now, retirement in full. A life event long time in coming, but somehow snuck up on me and when it did, mixed emotions tended to argue between themselves. The thought of having nothing to do sounds appealing, while in other ways, not so much. This nothing better to do syndrome worked for a while, however sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch can only appease those inner desires for so long. After a while, other desires began to stir, working themselves into a froth, prodding and goading me to get off my duff and do something.

Moon and Venus - Barren River Lake Morning Sky

 Angling has been a lifelong adventure, one that potentially can satisfy that nothing better to do itch. I've pursued this sport trying to become a tried and trued piscator, off and on, ever since I was a little feller. More off than on for most of my life, but still something I've always enjoyed. Being retired with nothing better to do, well, it only seemed natural I would once again begin to regularly cast a line from time to time. I was recently reminded just how destitute I had become at the sport. The prospect of making a few casts toward a rocky bluff, to feel the strike and tug of a heavy fish on the other end, then the contest of wills to land an amazing creature against his instinctive will to get away, all served to reawaken long ago suppressed desires to get up early and chase the sport of fishing dream. 

To purposely miss out on several hours of sleep took a bit of will power, but once up and going it wasn't so bad. Rolled out of bed at 3:30ish AM to down a cup of strong coffee, a vital beverage that sort of helped to remove the sleepy fog hovering around my eyes, mostly anyway. The old Jeep was already loaded, completed the previous afternoon. On top my venerable Old Town Canoe was strapped down, fishing gear and other necessary gear thrown haphazardly in the backend. Early thirty is a hard time of the morning, but when I stepped outside into unseasonably cool air, I discovered the sky was selling its ebony tint with diamonds scattered across the empyrean palace. The moon, not to be left out, was on sale as well, a polished sliver of its self, stenciled low, just above the tree line. It was the kind of morning where I was granted the authority to feel very wealthy, a piscator millionaire of sorts, the kind where wealth is defined by the blessing of good health, a good home, and extra time with nothing better to do than to go fishing.

Backing out of the driveway I turned to take the backway to the main road, and once there, rolled confidently across the access and headed on toward the rendezvous of canoe and lake. The cooler than normal weather for this time of year was an escape from the heat and humidity of previous weeks. Low winds would make the canoeing part of the fishing trip more enjoyable and easier. This early, not much traffic was on the road and I passed all the familiar landmarks along the route; the antique store, the storage facility, a long white fence bounding a section of property, the water tower, the cut through the terrain to flatten the road, then at the halfway point, I passed through that first little town, you know the kind, one so Mayberry-like, you can easily identify with the folks living there. On past the other side, the country road rolled and curved through the hills more aggressively than the first half of the drive, and before long I crossed the first of two bridges, slowing over both, to take a quick first look of the lake. Fog drifted in columns across the surface. A good sign. Then I caught the first glimpse of the ridge that formed the long bluff where I'd be doing most of the fishing. 

The sun not yet risen was throwing out a bright reddish glow behind the hill and created a undulating broken silhouette outline across the ridge top. A few stars were still visible, tiny jewels accenting the morning sky. Just above the ridge a crescent moon shone bright and reassuring. Hovering below the moon and to the left, the brilliant glow of Venus, second only to the moon in brightness, provided an additional accent.

It was almost 5:00 AM as I backed down the boat ramp, no one else there yet. I briefly stopped and surveyed the lake. As I stood on the edge, columns of thickened fog danced across the deceptively calm surface, shoved and stirred with but a wisp of breeze. Having a piscator millionaire feeling well up inside sort of filled my heart as I anticipated the first morning cast, but first I had to off load everything.

My Old Town is a good old canoe, just shy of 20 years old now and has garnered its share of battle scars and scrapes. Fishing from a canoe has its own rewards. Not always comfortable, but always enjoyable for I have been privy to some amazing mornings through the years in spite of my lack of effort to get out. As a photographer it has provided me with both physical and emotional moments of the heart along with some amazing photographic opportunities.

 I backed it off the canoe rack, stood underneath and lifted my shoulders into the portaging yoke to feel the full weight of the craft, about 60 pounds or so. A few steps to the waters edge, a quick flip to one side then a gentle plop onto the shallows. Most of the time I just use a wooden paddle to get around, but when I am fishing I prefer to attach a trolling motor as it allows for quick and easy movements without having to drop your rod, lift the paddle, move into position, drop the paddle, then pick up the rod and make a cast...only to repeat the process dozens of times. More time is spent repositioning the canoe than fishing. With the trolling motor, just a twist of the handle and slight directional movements can be easily made and you're back to fishing.

I almost did not bring my camera on that trip, but at the last moment, my photographer instincts thought better and I decided to do so, with good fortune as a result. Just after I shoved off, a blue heron drifted through the fog to set down close to the bank about 40 yards away. I slowed down, grabbed the camera and snapped a few quick pictures in the low light. Turned out to be the catch of the day and another one of those piscator millionaire moments. 

A few moments later as I drifted past the first rocky point on the end of the bluff, I heard some splashing and a series of high pitched barks and chirps. Looking over my shoulder to see what it was I found five otters climbing out of the water onto the rocky ledge. I thought it strange cats would be playing around the water before I realized they were otters They scurried away into the cover, playing and horsing around with each other. 

I drifted next to the shaded bluff where the shelves of rocks and boulders stair stepped their way into deeper water. A perfect haven for holding bass along drop offs and submerged ledges. Although I fish using a variety of lures, my favorite is to simply use deep diving crankbaits. Before long, the line grew heavy with a dull thud and a large very nice bass engulfed my lure. It fought with noble contempt as I reeled him in closer to the canoe. Just to make his point as to what he thought of my feeble attempts to catch him, one quick jerk and a deep dive and the line parted. I always catch and release, so I considered him caught anyway, but reduced the drag on the reel just the same. 

Through the morning as I fished along that shaded bluff I managed to catch and release 3 additional good sized bass plus also managed to hang into another even better one who snapped my line for the second time of the morning. That 8 lb test line just was not up to par for the day and I replaced it with new heavier line later on. 

A pair of Kingfishers chattered and darted by alighting on a tree branch overhanging the waters edge. Nearby some yellow looking birds with gray backs and black on their face darted in and out of a series of willow branches. Several times along the bluff other blue herons made their attempt at fishing the shallows. Interesting birds they are with their long necks and spindly legs and their blue grey coloring helped them to blend into the stony gray background. With a smart jab, he too easily speared a small fish before gulping it down.

The last catch of the day came after a bit of a dry spell. I was heading back toward the ramp and was about half way there. Somewhere around 30 or maybe 45 minutes had passed since I last caught one and the morning was growing brighter and warmer as the sun climbed against the backside of the bluff. I made a long cast close to the bluff, started a slow retrieve and after a few cranks the line again grew heavy followed by a thud. I knew I had another good one on, but after having had my line break twice, I did not force the issue and slowly worked the bass closer keeping tension on the line but not horsing him in too aggressively. It passed across the front of the canoe then took to the air and jumped clean out of the water, twice, splashing me in the process. I just knew the line was going to break again, but I eventually worked him close enough to grab his bottom lip and lift him into the canoe. He must have gone somewhere around 5 pounds, the best bass I've caught in quite sometime. I was truly enriched, and that piscator millionaire feeling swelled into a new dimension.

Yeah, after enduring way too much time away from the sport, I felt like a real fisherman again that morning, with my simple canoe setup. Those high dollar bass boats may indeed be awesome and fancy not to mention expensive, but I'd rather not be in such a hurry and take my time to enjoy the moment with my vintage Old Town Canoe. Its all part of the process of becoming a piscator millionaire. Attempting to do so again was a good feeling for I had allowed myself to grow stagnant in that regard. What I rediscovered that morning was a comforting feeling, certainly not financially, but within an even more satisfying realm, one that filled my day with recalled memories, the kind that simply allows you to know things are the way they should be again, and peace of mind is the most valuable asset one can possess. 

Being retired with nothing better to do, well, that's not such a bad way of life. One thing for sure is, for the first time in a long time, I feel quite wealthy...as a piscator millionaire, someone who possesses the kind of wealth accumulated from great memories made, and good times remembered, rewards stored within the heart to be revisited during duller times. There is no better place for such things to reside, in a piscator's millionaire heart, especially when there is nothing better to do.