Last fish

I've always had the worst time catching fish at this time of the year. It seems like once October 1 hits New England the fish shut down. But every time I've gone I've seen the familiar swells of water following moving fish or the occasional jump on the surface. Today was no different. I went to a local pond and started throwing a Carolina rig, thinking they might be in deep water close to the bottom. No luck. I switched to a jig, trying to fish a bit slower. Then I saw a few fish break the surface and thought a popper might get a hit. No luck with that either, but as I was reeling it back in a fish jumped at it about a foot from shore. I was astounded. The air temp got down to 32 degrees last night, so I didn't even imagine the fish could still be that active. But they were, so I decided to try a buzzbait and while I did I remembered something Guy Eaker wrote in his book, Catching Bass Like a Pro. He said it's probably best to retrieve a buzzbait as slowly as possible, especially in the fall, so that's what I did. I even let it sink a little every once in a while and pulled on it, creating a spitting action. No luck with that either, but I thought maybe bulging a spinnerbait might work. I was wrong again, but began varying the retrieve with it and settled on slow rolling it deeper in the water when a fish finally hit it pretty well. After all those decisions I must say it was incredibly satisfying to finally catch a fish during this month that has beaten me until now. It was definitely not my best of the season but it was probably the most gratifying, and if it ends up being my last of the year I'll be happy.

Careers, etc.

Okay, so this is the part where it gets stupid and messy because it's almost 3am when I'm writing this. But I'm hoping my logic is still okay, because I need to get a few things straight. Fishing cannot, ever, be a career for me, but it must take up a lot of time because I love it. Nonetheless, my job kills me, as it does a lot of people, far too many to imagine. FAR too many to imagine. Yet the messed up thing, to me, is how so many careers, jobs, endeavors, call them what you will, operate on a pretty skewed set of principles. Granted, this is the way the world is, and one must accept it or go mad. Yet I suppose one can't fault someone for looking for something better, a situation where performance matters more, though it may not be the only criteria for judgement. Perhaps this is where the allure of fishing, or any endeavor like it comes from. The fish don't care what sponsors you have, how much you've made in winnings, or which lures you're throwing bear your name. However, if you're a good angler all those things come to you--sponsors, lures, winnings--and while envy may follow I contend that pro anglers are operating on a slightly more level playing field than most of us. Granted, the world of fishing will always have its KVDs or Roland Martins, but what happens if someone like, say, Shaw Grigsby wins next year's Classic? He hasn't won one yet, he has his own show, and he has proved to be as consummate professional as the sport has seen in the last 30 years. Does the sport spurn him in favor of a more "marketable" option? Not necessarily. Alton Jones, for instance, never portrayed the rock star type persona that KVD seems to have created after he won the Classic. Yet he has been embraced as a champion should be. The criteria upon which his celebrity has been created, if we are to think of celebrity amongst anglers as similar to that of the rest of the world, are defined far more on a basis of performance than marketability. In fact, it seems that one's performance is exactly the worth in this case. A lot of articles and books would have one believe that salesmanship plays a bigger role in one's ability to attract sponsors, but it really seems that if one wants to sell fishing lures and equipment one better be damned good at fishing. (The FLW tour is an obvious exception, with its emphasis on sponsors outside the fishing industry.) The problem I'm having with all this is in understanding why the rest of "the world" is so slow to pick up on this concept. Perhaps it has something to do with the nature of the work involved. For instance, I'm a chef, and no one who eats at my restaurant cares about where I've cooked before or who I've cooked for or that I've cooked with some ingredients that many chefs never see in their lifetime. All they care about is getting what they're paying for, which, in many cases, isn't much--a piece of chicken, some pasta, a little sauce, some vegetables. Whatever the case may be, it seems like the more mundane the practice the less likely one is to make a lot of money, at least in the short-term. But something that provides a bit more drama--aka public exposure--is more likely to pay off in a big way over a shorter period of time. SO . . . there is clearly no ideal situation. But somehow fishing seems a lot more pure an endeavor than most, since it's based more on performance than most. And money is also far less likely to corrupt one's sense of enjoyment in the act, since it is far less necessary an activity as cooking. (And one can substitute cooking, in this case, for any number of pursuits.) Perhaps the least important activities are the most worthwhile.