You'd think that fishing on Friday the 13th in the middle of the woods would be a bad idea. Aside from the constant risk of being chased by a psychopathic murderer while wearing hip waders, there's also the air of bad luck that surrounds the day. Bad luck is something most fishermen try to avoid, and I was seemingly walking straight into it by fishing last Friday. It's also unusually early in the year. During most years, Most Government Camp Marches are known for ten foot banks of snow piled outside cabins, and normally I would find myself skiing. Of course, this year there is one problem:
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| Winter wonderland. |
I actually took that photo in late January. The snow situation, as you might imagine, is not any better. The opposite, in fact. Although this seems great -fishing can start earlier- I'm not thrilled about how our waterways are going to be looking sometime late August, when the rivers become extraordinarily low even during great snow years. To further unsettle my mind, a sushi restaurant recently opened in Government Camp.
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| There goes the neighborhood. |
Although I like sushi, I knew that a Government Camp sushi restaurant would be a tough sell. I can't imagine skiiers after a freezing day out in the cold wanting raw fish and rice, and the few locals don't seem like the type who would be into that either. However, the restaurant also sells an assortment of hot non-sushi items, so I figured it had a chance up here. Besides, no competition!
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| Today's Special: Raw Brook Trout Sashimi |
Anyways, I set out fishing fairly late in the evening to a local pond set in the middle of what some romantically refer to as the "Multorpor Fen" (I prefer the term "swamp"). In order to reach the muddy and mosquito-infested bog, one needs to walk by Skibowl East. It's a pretty pathetic amusement park; there are a few cheap, poorly maintained attractions that could use some renovation. However, there were a few people there, including a large family snow tubing on a miserable patch of artificial snow shoveled into a hill. They took one look at me walking by with my rod and hip waders and started laughing.
"No luck?" one woman asked while laughing raucously.
"Well, there's a lake back there, so-"
"Gonna ketch us a marlin, are you, dear?" another one shrieked while nearly falling over in hysterics.
"No, but there are Brook Trout back there, I fish that lake all the ti-"
At that point, my words were drowned out by hysterical laughter. One guy who was nearly in tears fell down onto the dirty snow and rolled around uproariously. I trudged across the snow, nodded hello to the worker who was apathetically shoveling spilled snow back into the pile, and walked through the woods to the pond.
I tied on a Purple Haze and started creeping towards the edge of the lake on my knees. I had seen a rise a few feet away from shore and didn't want to spook any of the fish. However, I had forgotten to remember that this lake lacks what you would call a "shoreline." What looks like solid ground is usually just a thin layer of reeds that goes straight down to waist-deep water. Or in my case, chin-deep. After lots of splashing, cursing, and spitting weeds out of my mouth, I climbed back on dry land and found someplace else to cast.
After some trial and error, I began catching fish.
The sense of peace and tranquility normally achieved from catching wild trout from a secluded pond was largely ruined by the Japanese pop music Skibowl was blaring (maybe the took suggestions from the sushi shop guy). After a few more casts without further strikes, I figured that I should leave.
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| This is not a shortcut. |
When fishing during the evening in a situation that requires a long walk back through the woods, it's important to leave well before the sun sets. Instead, I waited until it was pitch black before thinking that it was high time to call it a day. Let me tell you, fighting your way through dense, swampy vegetation with fly rod in hand is something that you don't try to do in the dark more than once. I also kept thinking about the Jason Voorhees franchise and how it had been an unnervingly long while since they had made the last sequel.
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| Smile, you're on candid camera! |
After making it through (not without stopping to take creepy photos like the one above) I eventually made it back to Skibowl. The people had left, but they had been replaced by a garish neon show. Bright Vegas-esque lights flashed at seizure-inducing intervals. The blaring pop music had also gotten even louder, and the combination of the two led to a sensory overload that you'd think people would go to the mountain to escape from. I grimaced at the spectacle before turning and heading back towards the woods from which I came.
Stay away from my water,
Kamran Walsh
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