Pikeshead Fishing Trip

by denny bastian 2013

The chilly air smells of late fall today.
The brown leaves of autumn like crumpled
onion skin float carelessly in the light
breeze from their various resting mothers
that surround and lean over like custodians
of the bulrush shores of Pikeshead lake.

I sit on the cold metal seat of a rented
twelve foot aluminum boat, hunched
shoulders, coat collar up. Levi jeans
and a heavy plaid shirt over long johns,
an insulated fisherman’s hat decked out with
multi-coloured flies, and a satisfied smile.

A battle scarred pair of oars lies on the ribs
beneath the seats. A testament to the certain
failure of the blue blowing, smelly old gas
motor that coughs and putts as if in some
kind of pain. I mercifully shut it off and coast
into my favourite south end fishing hole.

Standing up, I spread my feet to counter-
balance the rocking back and forth while
casting a fly line. My chosen weapon; a nine
foot Fenwick fly rod, sinking tip wet line,
50 feet of nylon backing, a 52 Buick fly,
dark green, yellow, with white wings.

The line loops behind me, then forward, to and
fro, swishing, flicking off tiny droplets of water
before landing perfectly, near the bulrushes.
Then an insect imitation of short jerky strokes
to allure the unsuspecting Kamloops trout out of
the safe and dark shadows of the thick bulrushes.

Peace pervades, I feel gratitude to be part of;
as a red sun sets over the western hills. Fishing
becomes secondary. I decide to give the old timer
a break. I’ll quietly row back to the dock; listen
to the steady drip from the oars as they fall to
the now placid waters on Pikeshead Lake.