Fishing Trilium Lake with Alex

I have taken lots of friends fishing. Many of them, such as my experience with my friend Nathan, were pleasant ones I will remember for a long time, in a good way. Not the case with some other friends.Now, my other friend-taking experiences have been lousy. The first one was a guy named Alex. Alex was the kind of guy that, despite his intentions, is not the least bit outdoorsy. But he tried. When he showed up for a day of trout fishing, he was wearing a Grizzly Adams type jacket and one of those fishing caps he obviously bought the day before. He even bought a bunch of flies to stick in the cap. As I loaded the truck, Alex asked with the air of confidence what fish we would be targeting today.

 “Rainbow Trout,” I replied.

“Oh, the ol’ rains, huh?”

I told him that nobody calls them that, but he ignored me and hopped in the truck. We then drove off to the lake, and I readied our fishing tackle. He continued rattling off random fishing facts that had nothing to do with the task at hand. After several minutes of this, I finally thrust a spinning rod in his hands and gave him a can of worms. Telling him to go down by the end of that dock and cast out along the drop off, I began baiting my hook, relieved to finally have him out of my hair. Just then I heard a yell.

“Kam!”

“What, Alex? You got a fish on?”

“I don’t know how to cast!”

Grumbling, I trudged over to the dock and showed him how to cast. His first few efforts resulted in horrible tangles that were fixed with a lot of swearing and line-cutting. Finally, he made a half decent cast into the water and I headed over to my tackle. I then cast my own line out, opened a soda, and began waiting for a bite. I had just sat down when I heard another shrill yell.

“Kam!”

“What, Alex?”

“I think my bait’s off!”

“Well, reel it in and see. Come over here and I’ll put a fresh worm on.”

“Could you do it for me.”

“Okay, Alex.”

Muttering under my breath, I impaled another worm on his hook and had him cast out again. As his reel tangled once more, he began asking me more questions.

"What's that thing in your hat?"

"It's a deer hair fly."

"How do they get it to look that way?"

"By wrapping it tightly against the hook so it sticks up."

"Did you pack any food?"

"Yeah, some candy."

“What’s the biggest fish you’ve caught here?”

“A 26 inch Rainbow last year.”

“What’s this thing called?”

“It’s a button that pops the reel out, don’t touch-“

The reel then sprung out of its seat and I caught it inches before it hit the water. I jammed it back in and told him to not touch anything unless it involved blood or a flopping Oncorhynchus mykiss. I stormed back to my rod and was just about to take a sip from my soda when I heard that same yell.

“Kam!”

“WHAT?!”

“What’s an Oncorhynchus mykiss?”

I was just about to lose it when my rod began jerking around and I hooked into a fish. Forgetting all the hassles of my fishing partner, I brought it up by the banks, ready for landing. It was a nice fish, a legal one, but I was still going to release him. As I began to search my body for my hemostats, Alex came charging over with a net clutched in his hands.

“Alex, what the hell are you-?“

“Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll net your fish!”

“Alex, I’m telling you, I don’t need you to-!”

But it was too late. Alex swung at the fish and beaned it across the head. Blood spurted from the fish’s gills and it slowly died. As I hopelessly tried to recuperate the fish, Alex pulled out one of those stupid fish scales he bought from Fred Meyer.

“Hey, Kam”, he said while leaning against a nearby tree, “wanna see how much that bad boy weighs?”

Grimacing at Alex, I tried to keep my cool and attempted to absorb myself in rebaiting my hook. Just as I am about to cast out again, however, I hear an all-too-familiar voice from the banks.

“Whoo! One pound, three ounces! That bad boy is tipping the scales!”

We continue fishing for a while longer. At this point, I have caught a few more fish, and Alex is clearly getting frustrated at his lack of success. He, however, soon redoubles his efforts, and gets a bite. I swear, you’d think he hooked into a Tarpon, the way he was acting.

“KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM! FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISH!”

I, at this point, have reached some sort of stupor waiting for a fish, and Alex’s scream jolts me out of it. I look over at him and I see him, teeth bared, frantically reeling with all his might. I walk over to him and see a small six inch trout, too small to keep. It’s still a nice fish, though.

“Nice one, Alex. We can take a picture of him and then we’ll let him go.” I say this as I begin to pull the line above the fish, bringing it in.

“Kam. Get. The. Net.”

“Eh, this fish’s too small for a net, it would really do more harm than good-“

“GET IT NOW!”

His usual shrill yell changed into a deep growl, so I was visibly startled and went to get him a net. As I scooped up the fish, Alex was breathing heavily.

“YEAHHHH!” He screamed as he began jumping up and down on the dock, scaring away a fish bigger than any we have caught today.

“Yeah…,” I say as I forlornly watch the trophy  cruise away. “Nice fish, buddy.”