TRAILER
Fish Sticks W
THE ONLY CURE FOR CABIN FEVER BY LISA DENSMORE BALLARD
inter is hell for an angling addict. The last few winters, the urge to go fishing has been intolerable. By January, forget the quest for old
mossy jaws! I’d settle for a 12-inch square tail. By mid-February, a feisty fingerling would please me, though nothing in the water is particu- larly spirited when I need a magnifying glass to see the mercury in the thermometer. I live in the northern Rocky Mountains where it’s common to have over
30 days below zero during the winter. Skiing takes my mind off fishing, but it’s not a big draw when one ride up the chairlift results in frostbite. I’ve tried winter fishing. The fish don’t get active until noon when the
temperature might top out at 25 degrees on a warm day. At least the shortened daylight makes a wake-up call more civilized. Mostly I catch frostbite on my fingers from snapping the ice off the rod eyes. Persistent stuff, that ice! It starts forming after two casts. If I wait until three casts to de-ice, my line usually ends up a tangled mess. Still, that’s better than not fishing. When the last open hole finally freezes over, I get downright depressed. I’ve tried to chase away the winter doldrums with all the usual
techniques. First, I sink into my favorite chair with the television remote, planning to live vicariously, but after watching Captain Ben Chancey hook
78…KAYAK ANGLER
a 40-pound snook, and then Babe Winkelman reel in a 30-pound musky, I’m more jealous than excited. Still in need of a fish fix, I surf the Internet for photos of warm, tanned, sweating and smiling anglers but that only deepens the doldrums. One winter I tried to tie flies to pass the dreary days. My first attempt, a
black woolly bugger, was my last. After paying a fortune for the table, the vice, the tools and the feathers, it took me six hours to tie the thing. When I finally finished, I proudly held it up for my family to see. “Not bad,” remarked my husband. “You know, they only cost $2.50 at
Fred’s Fly Shop.” He had a point. Winding thread around tiny feathers was a nice excuse
for putting off paying the heating bill, but it did little to cure cabin fever. I’ve tried other remedies. I read the BassPro catalog cover to cover as
soon as it arrives. I talk fishing with anyone, whether they are willing to listen or not. I look at photos of my biggest prizes, then the medium-sized ones and then the small-fry. I clean my kayak. I mentally rehearse what to do when my rod bends in half from the tug of a truly big fish. Inevitably I can’t take it anymore, but I don’t throw in the towel—I
pack it. Along with my kayak, my rod and my sunglasses. Then I head to Florida, where it’s summer year-round and the fishing never freezes over.
ILLUSTRATION: LORENZO DEL BIANCO
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