The Healing Power of Fishing
July 22, 2004
As 10-year-old Rodney looked on with fantastic anticipation, the giant salmon was hoisted onto the lodge’s scale. For a couple of tense seconds, the red needle bounced around - and then there was a huge cheer from the assembled crowd when it finished dancing and finally came to rest at 42 pounds.
Hanging there in the warm glow of the Alaskan midnight sun, the great fish was as long as the pint-sized angler was tall. Camera flashes popped all around and little Rodney’s grin was as wide as the river. A few feet away, the kid’s grandma was wearing the most brilliant smile I’d ever seen. Watching the happy scene, I found myself wishing that somebody from People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) had been there to see Rodney basking in the delight of catching the biggest salmon that the lodge had seen all season. A few days earlier, when Rodney stepped off the plane to visit the Alaskan outback, I overheard somebody ask him where his father was. The kid said that his dad had been killed in a logging accident only three weeks prior. Then, his grandma - who had just lost her only son - got off the plane and started sobbing.
Suddenly, I felt as if somebody had sucker-punched me in the gut.
Rod’s dad had booked the fishing trip for himself and his son and I was amazed that in light of the recent tragedy, anybody from the family showed up at all. We quickly got grandma and the kid into a boat with a great guide and sent them on their way, wondering what kind of week it was going to be.
Later that afternoon we found out. Well down river, I could see Rodney’s boat motoring upstream. Oddly, it would come off plane and then slowly idle up to each boat along the way. An excited conversation would ensue and then the boat would pick up speed until it encountered another vessel. When the kid’s boat finally got to me, I could see Rodney waving. When the roar of the engine subsided, I could hear the little fisherman yelling at us. ”Hey guys, check this one out!” And then Rodney held up the big fish for us to see. ”I caught it all by myself!” Several oohs and ahs and attaboys later, he put the fish back in the cooler and then the guide ran the kid upstream to the next boat so he could show off his prize again. They hit every single boat in the fleet on the 5-mile run back to the lodge. Throughout the week, I never saw Rodney or his grandmother shed another tear. For those five days in Alaska, they fished their hearts out, and while I know there are many, many tough days, months and years to come following their tragic loss, fishing was like a healing elixir for them.
For a few days, Rod and his grandma were at peace. And that’s exactly what I wanted the PETA people to see. You see, they’re mounting a huge anti-fishing campaign right now in which they’re saying fishing is nothing more than barbaric torture of animals that serves no good. But, having seen the effect that fishing had on Rodney and his grandma that week in Alaska, I can tell you that there is a lot more to this sport than just putting a hook into the lip of a fish. It provided a grieving grandmother and son a chance to escape for awhile - all the while cementing a bond that will last a lifetime. I dare somebody from PETA to look me straight in the eye after witnessing the magic that fishing provided a family in its deepest time of need and tell me that it’s a bad thing. I dare them…
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