I’m rethinking all the bustle and commotion over how we’re no longer practicing something our Poppa once did. How our doing without Twinkies and store-bought Latte makes today’s outdoors an expedition on par with Shackleton’s Voyage, extreme survival, mere fishing transformed into an adrenalin-fueled primeval.
Competition and adrenalin is what we truly crave, fishing is just a means of getting there …
Fishing lacks the broken bones and has no contact between anglers, no pads or face masks, and doesn’t look much better under the hot Klieg lights of television, with few saints and less demigods – and no one trading paint in the pit area…
But they may have a point.
My generation picked fishing so we could decompress from both family and work – preferring the solitude and silence the Great Outdoors offered to heal the soul so we could return to the Big City fit for another grueling tour.
Somehow the “Rest and Relaxation” became today’s competitive and arduous, compliments of youth-oriented marketing and a generation that measured their worth in how much they owe versus how much they bank.
But that’s merely sour grapes, given the ability to “unplug” is fast disappearing, complements of satellites and broadband, and “them as inherits” might have had the right idea about the woods all along…
Most of the Pristine is on its last legs and requires tackle that can ferret out those few remaining fish from super-deep or super-fast, neither of which fly fishing has been any good at …
… which may explain why 3/8 ounce jig heads are considered flies, given that this new fishing lets us bring guns to gun fights …
I think I’ll dispense with the closetful of high-tech fabrics, the illegal SWAT gear, and those hideously expensive fly rods, which will get us clear of the adrenalin junkies who insist matching the hatch involves base-jumping with Mayflies …
We can watch them plummet earthward while we rest easy in our lawn chair and reacquaint ourselves with inexpensive rods, cold beer, and the new bait fishing …
That ain’t anything your Daddy fished …
The new EXTREME bait fishing made so by enormous amounts of Soy and your propensity towards flatulence …
The only real difficulty will be humping that cooler down from the parking lot now that we’re done with all the deprivation and Mother Nature crap. Fabric-based solar panels will energize our civilized comforts that accompany us back to the creek. Cell phones and Microwaves, televised football blaring while we ignore the rod and reach for a double fistful of those Spicy Peanut numbers – followed by the White Chocolate.
Poppa never had it so good. Potted meat and soggy bread, branch water and a long hike upstream to get away from us truly comfortable and well-rested angling types …