Some things you discover on fishing trips have absolutely nothing to do with fishing, but become such an important part of the experience that you can’t have one without the other.
We were on a small lake south of Kamloops, British Columbia, at the back end of the season. Popular in May, this lake gets pretty quiet in June. But there’s a late chironomid hatch that no one seems to know about, and we had been doing pretty good. The problem here is the rolling hills of this ranchland country don’t provide much of a windbreak, and one afternoon after several hours of excellent fishing the winds arrived to force us off the water.
This was an important trip, one I didn’t imagine I’d ever make six months before. Lying in a hospital bed with wires attached to me, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d ever have another fishing trip. Fortunately, what started out as a heart attack wound up as a diagnosis of atrial fibrillation that my doctor thought might be linked to a rather generous consumption of adult beverages—something known as “holiday heart.” With a stern look and a shake of his finger he told me it might be a good idea to cut back on the wobbly pops. But if I had to sacrifice quantity, I was sure as hell going to have quality. After all, Doc didn’t say “stop drinking.” He said, “Stop drinking so much.” This led to a serious exploration of microbrewed India Pale Ale. Which led me to Beer Can Lit.