Monk
Hey folks, how was your winter? I’m joking, right? Feel like getting off that subject already. Christ, one of the worst in how many years? But what the hell, it’s almost over and here I am, back again, writing from my favorite spot, the good ole Maine State Pier, on a comparatively nice day.
You know, I usually like to report on different things that affect us fishing aficionados over the off season: any big news, law matters, or even any big rumors. Boy, I’d love to be able to write something like, “Wow, huge sperm whale lifts his ugly mug in Portland Harbor,” or maybe “Seagulls all leave town; say they’re already sick of new governor,” or “Ferry boat captains demanding a raise or they’ll make all the day trips driving in reverse.” But, alas, no such things have happened yet. It’s been kind of boring for the harbor this winter.
As I’ve said before, I like to come down to the Maine State Pier to just kind of relax the day away, sit back, take in the views, and let my mind sort of meander. And my gosh, is it running the gamut on this pretty March day!
First I got to thinking about a documentary I happened to catch on my favorite station, the Animal Planet, about sponges. The ocean kind, not the bathtub kind — although sometimes they are one in the same, aren’t they? Well anyways, they were finding certain sponges that quite possibly could lead to a cure for cancer. And this could be just the tip of the iceberg. Like in the Amazon jungle they keep discovering more plants that are cures, the ocean could be the same way.
Just sitting here with the mind wandering, it’s easy to start rolling back the memories of fishin’ days gone by, especially if you’ve recently had a near-death accident, which happened to me during the off-season this year. I was being the ever-friendly go-to guy one day, helping my friend move her couch down to the cellar. I awoke three days later in ICU, surrounded by tubes and such. Multiple facial fractures, interior cranial bleeding — you know, stuff along that line.
When you get dealt a hand like that, boy, the memories do come back. One of my strongest memories of yesteryear is fishing in odd places, and sometimes against the odds. I once managed to fish while I was in Maine State Prison, and another time when I was at a monastery in Colorado.
Let me give you some background. I suppose I’m what you’d call an old fogy. As a young lad, things were oh so different. I didn’t have a TV with three working channels until I was 14 years old, let alone videos! I guess since we didn’t know what we were missing we didn’t miss it. Except, of course, sports. And The Wizard of Oz.
We weren’t real poor. I mean, we ate. But we weren’t rich. For recreation, we’d go on Sunday drives to gather things. We’d pick blueberries or whatever happened to be ripe that week. We’d hustle ’bout anything, really. We’d go to target-shooting sites and pick up the empty cartridge cases for the brass. We’d look for exotic rocks (we have ’em in Maine).
But the big thing was fishing. And boy, I’ll tell ya, if there was some fish in this whole state, we’d find ’em for sure. The math was this: 2 parents, 3-6 boys, with everyone able to take — I’m not sure, but I think about 10 fish each. So for us to come home with maybe 100 fish was not a fish story! And in them days we weren’t depleting anything.
So years go by and I’m in my rambunctious traveling days. I join a Benedictine Franciscan monastery. I don’t know how — they were, like I say, strange days — but it was a very wealthy abbey. So rich, in fact, that we could afford to purchase a Phillips 66 oil company executives’ retreat. Go figure. A poor kid from the slums of Portland, Maine fishing in a place called Rabbit Ears Pass, about 50 miles south of a place called Steamboat Springs. Only in America, I guess.
Anyways, I did the monastical thing a couple of years. The vows, you know.
So even a boring winter can be somewhat fun. Just walking down the pier and letting your mind drift away to old memories can be good. However, please don’t fracture your head to do it.
And hey, getting back to that sponge thing. You see how important it is to preserve our beautiful ocean. You never know — there’s an animal that might be waiting to save your grandkids’ life.
That will be the theme this season: keeping our oceans clean. I know we do some, but not enough. Keep that in mind. And coming right up is license time. We’ll all enjoy that, I’m sure.
