CityView Magazine

12 | July 2020 M y earliest memory of fishing is standing in the safe crook of Daddy's arm as we cast a line into the still waters of the pond off Milliken Road. e sun was high on that weekday which meant another three hours of bliss until we had to pick up my older sister from middle school. Ah, the joys of being the baby of the family. But don't be fooled by 'baby.' I was a big- time fisher wielding a lightweight rod, three sizes too long for my preschool arm, spooled with a whopping 6-pound line. At the end of that line, tied with a genuine fishing knot, was a silver button from mom's sewing basket. Mom had schooled Dad on the dangers of fishing hooks around children, but Dad always made a way. My dad knew that fish will strike any shiny object, and with that, he settled on the silver button – it stayed snug in the small mouth of a bream, was easily retrieved if the fish swallowed it, and most importantly, met Mom's safety requirements. I shall never forget my exhilaration the first time a bream hit that shiny button causing a tug on the line, then a quivering in the rod that traveled up my arm and into my soul. Fear, joy, excitement and a thousand other emotions rushed through my 5-year- old being. "He took it, Daddy!" I screamed. Daddy's hand landed quickly on top of mine as he coached me in an escalating voice, "Wait… wait… wait… wait 'til he swallows it." "Now!" he shouted. At Daddy's command I jerked the line, landing a massive 4-ounce bream on the bank. "I got him, Daddy! I caught him!" Pure joy flooded my soul. Dad had a saying that remains with me to this day: "Never let your story be about the one that got away." Many people describe the joy of fishing with words like "relaxing," "peaceful" and "tranquil." Artists curate peaceful images of fishers surrounded by the sights and sounds of nature, of early morning fog hovering on placid lakes, of birds singing and crickets chirping. ese words and images find no place in my joy of fishing. For me, fishing is about catching. Catching is about anticipation, about the sudden explosion when a fish strikes the bait. Whether from a 1-pound bluegill or a 45-pound wahoo, joy is the moment the bobber disappears or the saltwater rod bends to the point of breach. e mate yells, "Fish on!" and I know it is game on. Joy is the competition. Like Roger Federer versus Rafael Nadal, the match of back-and-forth, reel and slack, continues between me and a slashing fish until blisters form on my hands and sweat soaks my hat. Joy is staying with the struggle. Joy is the smell of diesel fumes waing over the stern and mixing with the heat of the day as I catch a glimpse of the fish constantly popping out of the ocean spray at vibrating speed. Joy is standing up in the jump seat and pushing down again, creating leverage for the win, for the catch. Bottle that feeling and it's the only medication you'll ever need. Never let your story be about the one that got away. I fish all kinds of water – fresh, brackish, salt – but by far my favorite is salt. Saltwater fish put up a vigorous fight. Saltwater fishing is now the primary reason for our family travel and has taken my husband, our sons and me to the Bahamas, South America, OBX and, most recently, to the British and U.S. Virgin Islands. In July 2018, our crew escaped to the Bahamas to celebrate my 50th birthday. We charter a boat out of Freeport for a new venture, reef fishing in shallow water. Typically, private fishing charters are nice, well-apportioned, large vessels. is is not that boat. Paint-worn, the short 21-foot vessel looks like something from the set of Gilligan's Island. e captain matches the boat - a hippie of peace-love-and-rock-and-roll with no shoes and no hat, still wearing clothes from Woodstock. With barely space for the four of us, the boat bobs up and down in the water as Woody kicks gas cans and rope out of the way for us to board. e ride out is turbulent, but once we reach our 'spot' about 500 yards offshore, the water is calm. Unfortunately, so is the fishing. We bob around for a couple of hours looking for fish. Finally, we stumble upon a hotspot of blue tang which turn out to be mainly bait-stealers INSPIRATION Joy and Life Lessons Await at the End of a Rod and Reel By Kelli Taylor Whether from a pond bank in Cumberland County with a worm or cricket tied to a small hook or from a 42-foot vessel in the British Virgin Islands, fishing continues to invigorate me.

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