Fishing 105

...................by March of 1998, it was inevitable I would be moving to Fargo, North Dakota and I would be fishing. To know me, is to understand that if I respect a person, they generally have me as putty in their hands. When Tom asked me to marry him and I agreed, I got diamond earrings and a life jacket and rules about always wearing it as engagement gifts.


This is my eleventh season of fishing. He started me on heavy rods and reels casting for muskie. We went far to fish. We fished over cabbage, we fished on the rocks. We casted with spinners, hair, and stick baits. It was hot, still, and the flies bit. It wasn't like fish a hour or two, it was hours and hours; napping became a midday necessity. I was tan to my bones.

He tried me on walleye, anchoring the boat and fishing with a bobber. I was insulted and bored to tears. We went back to an area called the GAP and fished for big northerns. It was hard work but I caught fish using a jerk method--I am surprised my arms didn't come out of the sockets.

Fall came and I sat on the gunnel's of the low sided boat and fished for perch. I caught 97 fish and laid the rod down to take pictures of the sunset. The next day, I caught 100 perch. I was not low profile, I was hollering out the number as a caught them. I learned that if you had a good spot, all the boats in the hemisphere came to crowd in. I had my own rod and reel which was selected for me. I would end the year catching a 36" pike.

Tom had promised to treat my fear as real. He is a weather watcher. We didn't go out if it was white capping and if there was clouds that looked suspicious, we came in. The low sided boat would have to go if we were going to zip across the lake without getting wet. We closed up on October 3 and the winter would be spent looking for a bigger, deeper boat................