Pappanoon (US)

 There are basically two types of fishermen - those who like to catch fish and those who like to fish.

People who like to catch fish come in many varieties from once-a-year novices to the professional bass tournament types. However, the one thing they all have in common is that they aren't happy unless they're catching fish. If this type of fishermen comes home empty handed they often view the trip as a failure or sometimes even as a complete waste of time.

People who like to fish are a completely different type of person. These people tend to enjoy the entire experience of fishing. To them, catching fish is a bonus feature of the overall fishing experience itself. Don't get me wrong, they like to catch fish as much as anyone else and many of them are very good at it. But people who like to fish tend to enjoy all aspects of fishing, not just the catching part.

I'm clearly a person who likes to fish. As I've tried to explain this to others I often get blank stares or strange looks. I hear statements like, "So what's the point if you don't catch anything? Isn't that boring?" For example, I remember my brother coming home from an "unsuccessfu ll" fishing trip once only to be asked by his wife, "So, did you catch anything?&quot ; After replying in the negative, she quickly asked, "Then why did you go?" Blank stares aside, you haven't lived until you've tried to answer that question to someone who is sincerely asking it.

I usually try to explain to these people that they would probably like to fish too if they would only try it. They just need to look at the sport a little differently. Here are just a few of the reasons why I don't need to catch fish in order to enjoy fishing.

I used to work with a guy who couldn't possibly understand why anyone would like to fish. He lived in Florida - his house being just a stone's throw from the ocean. He once asked me what I do when I go fishing. I said, "Well, usually I get together with friends and family. Load up a cooler with a bunch of stuff to eat and drink. Put it all in the boat and spend the day talking, munching, and laughing with these people. Sometimes we catch fish and sometimes we don't." Almost without hesitation he responded, "Unless I was catching a lot of fish, that sounds awfully boring to me."

So I asked him, "You're from Florida, right?" "Yes," he proudly responded.

&qu ot;Well, do you enjoy boating?" "Of course I do. Who doesn't?" "Tell me what you do when you go boating." "Well, usually I get together with some people I enjoy. Put a bunch of stuff to eat and drink in a cooler. Load up the boat and spend the day talking, snacking, and just having a good time enjoying the water and the sunshine." Before he finished his last sentence he could see where this was going.

I said, "So, hold a stick in your hand and you're fishing. Actually catching something is a bonus to an otherwise great day of boating. Don't you think?"

W hen I go fishing, I'm usually fishing for memories. One of my best all-time fishing memories came from a trip in which I didn't catch a thing. My brother and I were fishing the Lemhi River near Salmon, Idaho. After an hour or so of unsuccessfully trying every hole and ripple for hundreds of yards of beautiful water, I heard something in the bushes behind me. My first thought was that it was likely a cow. I went back to fishing. Then I heard a thump, as if a large animal just jumped. "Might be a deer," I thought. "I wouldn't mind seeing a deer." I went back to fishing.

A minute or two later I heard a bigger thump - bigger than a deer would likely make and then the crackling of a large branch breaking. Thinking maybe it was an elk; I walked away from the river a bit to see if I could spot it.

All of a sudden a rather large bull moose came crashing out of the trees. Startled by my presence, a feeling we shared at the time, it stopped right in front of me, maybe 20 feet away, and glared at me as if it was asking, "Friend or foe?"

I' ve heard about people seeing their life flash before their eyes before they think they are going to die. I figure this is about as close as I've come to that experience. It's amazing what your mind can do when properly motivated. Within literally less than one second my thoughts raced through all of my options.

" ;I'll use my fishing pole as a sword. Yeah right. My fishing knife is on the ground behind me. Maybe I could run and grab it before the moose could get to me. And then what? Won't work. I used to run track in high school. I could just run for it. Maybe I could outrun him. A fence on one side, a river on the other and clumpy, brush-filled terrain in between. Out of options...okay, if he wants me, he's got me."

Almo st as quickly as I ran out of options, the expression on the moose's face changed from, "Don't move or I'll take you out," to, "Oh, I didn't realize that it's just a 5' 10", 160 pound, middle-aged, balding human. ...no big deal."

As I came to realize that I was not about to die, the moose ran down into the river crashing and splashing along the way. All of a sudden this was a very cool experience. My brother was fishing downstream about 100 yards or so. Wanting him to share in the experience I began to whistle loudly to get his attention, hoping that he had a good view of the middle of the river. Immediately the big bull stopped, looked back at me, and raised it's ears on alert. Maybe the whistle thing wasn't such a good idea. It turned around and ran right back to the spot it had originally stared me down, paused for a moment, and was gone into the trees again.

The entire encounter lasted only a few minutes. But more thoughts and feelings ran through me during those few minutes than during the previous few hours. "Way cool," I thought to myself as I wondered if my brother had either heard me whistling or had seen the moose when it crashed into the water. He had and a few minutes later I was telling him all about my little adventure. I've probably retold the story dozens, if not hundreds of times since then. It's an experience I will never forget.

On another occasion my brother and I were fishing a river when the water was fairly high from the spring run off. The fishing wasn't all that great. In fact, I can't even remember whether we actually caught anything or not. What I do remember was trying to gingerly wade in that river without being swept away by the swift current. Most of morning was spent carefully wedging my feet between rocks and trying to keep my balance while casting or making my way to the next hole. It was one of those trips where I was pushing my luck in a river that wasn't really ready for the kind of fishing I wanted to do.

I had fished this river many times before. Most of the fish caught over the years were okay, but nothing you'd write home to mom about. All of a sudden I hooked into a really nice trout. My drag began to sing as the big fish took off downstream. Instinct kicked in and without hesitation (or thought) I was in the water chasing the fish. Adrenaline flowed freely as my mind rushed through half thoughts like, "Big fish...swift water...eight-poun d test...break line...move quickly...keep up with him..." Nowhere to be found among these thoughts were the sensible notions of "might fall down...might drown...stupid thing you're doing right now..."

A s I raced downstream, slipping and skipping along the river rocks, my brother saw what was happening, quickly grabbed his net and ran along the shore to catch up to the fish. Once he was in the general proximity, he too jumped into the water to see if he could net the big trout. We must have been a sight to see. In hindsight it reminded me a little bit of Brad Pit in the movie A River Runs Through It. Any thoughts of my own safety were simply nonexistent. As if hypnotized by the whole experience, all I could think was "big fish...must have him..."

A s I was doing my best to keep tension on the line, adjust the drag, reel whenever I got the chance, and traverse the slippery rocks, my brother, bless his heart, was downstream holding his net in one hand like a Samurai sword while the other was extended far from his body trying to keep his balance. I could tell whenever he got close to the fish because he would change from this position to one of herding cats on slippery kitchen floor. We were finally zeroing in on the fish and my hope of actually landing him began to increase.

The fish had stopped running and I was now within 30 feet of him, my brother still trying to get close enough to make the grab. Suddenly I slipped on the rocks, jerking the rod as I tried to keep my balance, and "snap& ;quot; the line finally broke and the fish was gone.

In general I'm not the kind of guy that swears a lot. But I believe there are times when even God himself might find it appropriate for a man to express himself in extreme ways. While no words could really convey how I felt at the time, I managed to find a few that came pretty close.

Once he realized what had happened, my brother looked up at me using only the expression on his face to say, "Surely not." That expression changed to fear as he saw me slap my pole against the water in frustration. Luckily it didn't break. I think he was worried that I was going to take my frustrations out on him for not netting the fish before I lost it. I had no such thoughts.

After standing there staring at each other for a moment, not really knowing what to do next, it began to dawn on us what we had just done. I looked back behind me at the segment of river that I had somehow negotiated. "How did I do that?" I looked at my brother, now with a smile on his face because he saw that I was not about to take my life (or his) over this event, and we carefully made our way back to shore. We began to laugh at our stupidity, knowing full well that we would do the same thing again in similar circumstances. Like I said, I don't remember actually catching any fish that trip. But I'll never forget the fight I had with that big trout and the circumstances surrounding it. Even as I write this, a smile comes to my face.

There are a lot of reasons to fish. Actually catching fish is only one of many. Over the years I've been privileged to watch a bald eagle fly 20 or 30 feet directly above our boat as my teenage daughter and I discussed the facts of life. I've watched my daughter, my nephew, and my dad (a person who likes to catch fish) sit in a boat and laugh so hard they cried. I've seen my eight-year old son's picture appear in the local newspaper as he held a large rainbow trout. The only thing bigger than the fish in that picture was the size of his smile. And I've been fishing all by myself watching ducks fly past a sunset so beautiful that any words used to describe it would only tarnish the experience.

Thi s is why I fish. Catching fish is fun too. But if that's the only reason you go fishing, you're missing out on some of the best things this world has to offer.