Maine Outdoor Journal

"Unbelievable!" said the Bro. "All the crap we bring just to go fishing. This is supposed to be a simple thing, but look!"

Look, indeed, at our two vehicles crammed with "essentials" for a few days of trout fishing on the pond. What happened to the barefoot boy with cheeks of tan, etc., who fished with a hand-cut stick, a piece of string and a sharpish hook baited with a worm from the manure pile behind the cowbarn? The barefoot boy now drives an SUV with a red canoe on top. Inside are the paddles, the anchor, the PFD, the flotation cushion I sit on to get a bit of elevation because my knees don't bend as well any more; there are three flyrods, one to rig with floating line, another to string up with a sink-tip line, and a third just in case; there's a duffel packed with sleeping bag, fishing vest, fly boxes, reels, waders and wading boots (which, by the by, were not needed). There's a tote bag stuffed with T-shirts, underwear, socks, shirts, sweatpants, spare jeans, sweater, bath towel; and a kit bag full of toothpaste and brush, floss, saline solution, mouthwash, hair brush, antacid tablets. No razor. There's a pillow. A pair of knee-high rubber boots. A change of shoes. A camera case. A few CDs to listen to on the three hour drive. A brace of coolers, one large for the bulky foods such as a half-gallon of milk, a few bottles of Gritty McDuff's lager, a half-dozen eggs, a stick of butter, a quart of OJ; and a smaller cooler for lunch afloat. Plus grocery bags of bread, canned soup, canned tuna, canned sardines, coffee, and other items that didn't need to be in the cooler.

And that wasn't enough! I had forgotten my thermos. Must have hot coffee with lunch, so I had to shell out twenty bucks for a new thermos. Blackflies appeared and I had not packed any Ben's. The back of my neck got sunburned the first day and I had not packed a bandana; the general store had one left.

My boots leaked, as I discovered when I put the canoe in. They leaked last year, too -- no, I didn't think they had healed themselves over the winter, but I had slathered every seam with Goop sealant. Still they leaked. Hello, general store man.

Still, once I pushed the boat away from the shore and glided out onto the pond, all the trouble and travail were left on shore and the not-quite-barefoot boy was at peace and at home, with the loons, the ducks, and the beautiful fish that swam beneath the opaque waters.

The fishing? I'll tell you about that later.