Our passions, then and now: a perspective.

[walkin jack]

I was digging around in some old computer files and stumbled across a little diatribe I wrote in 2000 when I was only 56 years old. I'm not sure how much detail I have given on my passion for surf fishing but the term "ate up with it" would certainly be no exaggeration.

I couldn't help but compare my feelings on that now after all these years and all these changes in my physical capabilities, and changes in my attitude towards the past.

I'll let you read the piece as I wrote it in 2000 and then comment on my present feelings. I think it is interesting to examine how our years have affected us. I know we are all different but some might be surprised. I know I certainly was.

I haven't thought about it in years and almost couldn't find it. Reading it made me smile. Kind of made my skin tingle to recall the power of my passion for surf fishing. I always felt like the beach was my spiritual home and the surf was my spiritual mother. I went' down there once to camp for a couple of weeks and didn't leave the sand for 39 days.

In regards to my comments at the end about my "old bones" and not knowing how my conflict would be resolved, well, I guess I'm kind of relieved that it didn't end for me like I sometimes feared that it would. It ended for me the way it ends for most of us....I just slowed down and eventually didn't fish in the surf any more. I still haven't declared that my surf fishing days are over but on the other hand I haven't fished in the surf in a few years now. Seems like the "old bones" had the last word after all.

But the passion is still there. When I dredge up some of those old memories it can come over me without warning and I feel the thrill of the pull of a strong fish trying to pull me out to sea while the waves are pounding me and trying to get me off my feet. The smell of the salt air, the feel of the salt water against my skin.... Lawdy Miss Clawdy! I guess I can never fully explain it. I'm not sure I really understand it fully myself.

Anyway it was fun to read and compare how I felt in 2000 with how I feel today. I just wonder where all those years went and am I truly done with all that. It hardly seems possible. Sigh...........

************************************************** ********************************

S U R F F I S H E R M A N' S C U R S E

It is a most peculiar aspect of human nature that pain
and suffering seems to enhance ones passions, what
ever they may be. For me it is the surf. Few things
I've experienced have truly satisfied me like
standing in a pounding surf and fishing. Too late in
my life, I realized that I enjoyed fishing in the surf
BECAUSE of that challenge rather than IN SPITE of it.
The surf, as I have written before, is, in many ways,
like a lover, capable of stealing your life as you
expose yourself to her potentially deadly forces, or
making your wildest dreams come true. And each time it
is the mystery of "which will it be today" that draws
me to her. On the days she has been kind and generous
I leave feeling 100% fulfilled. On the days when I
escape her cold, cruel indifference with nothing but
my own life I still feel a kind of victory..."not
today, you witch!"

A lot of people that THINK they enjoy fishing haven't
ever experience true fishing fever, for which no cure
exists or is desired. One things is certain, it is a
life-time deal and it doesn't diminish with age. No
matter how much I do it or what the results, it's
never enough...not ever.

One strange thing, though, the more these old bones
protest, the more the spirit cries for more. I don't
know how this conflict is going to be resolved. It is
NOT how I want to meet my final reward but even I can
see the poetic justice, should it go that way.

Just remember that us "fin-addicts" DO need our pain...we
eat it like candy .......W. J.

 

[ralph7]

I can relate.
I, too, hunted and fished almost every weekend and lived for the season's openings from dove to deer.
I don't want to admit I have given it up either, but I haven't been in years. My bad night vision is a handy excuse, because one usually has to drive in the pre dawn, but I just simply don't have the drive I once did. Sad.

 

[pawngal]

When you wrote that surf fishing was your mistress, your siren of the sea.

 

[Skeet 028]

I understand. I really do. I was a waterfowl hunter..Hunted guided. I lived outdoors from dove season till the goose season ended. Duck season just didn't last long enough. I mostly enjoyed hunting on the rivers and creeks in Md. But didn't turn down field hunting sp for geese. I hunted with friends quite often on one farm that we set up to shoot geese. The owner loved hunting 'em too. Over the course of years we took over 15,000 birds off that one farm. Then momma decided we needed to move here to Wyoming. I haven't quit duck hunting.. Still enjoy the heck out of it. But I don't go often. The main thing that keeps me home more is the lack of old good friends that I have hunted with forever. Just doesn't hold my interest without the friendship and comaradarie. Same thing with shooting skeet like I did. Miss the people I used to shoot with.

 

[walkin jack]

When you wrote that surf fishing was your mistress, your siren of the sea.

She was my lover, my tormentor, my salvation and my damnation all rolled into one. I'm surprise (but very glad) that Miss Pam put up with me all the young years of my life. I was also nearly as passionate about motorcycles and hunting and guns. She rode with me on the super slabs but she would not come and watch me race in the dirt. Motocross was on me HARD for a few years there.

Believe me I know how lucky I am!

 

[ordy]

I can appreciate how skeet028 feels. I'm on the trap fields three days a week and in the beginning, would shoot half a flat each day. The other guys to fill in the squads are retirees like myself and we became friends. I'm still on the fields three days a week but shoot at clays less and shoot the bull more. I would miss them if I had to quit.

 

[DeathGrip]

Good stuff WJ.

I know what you mean about fishing. For me it was offshore standup. I wouldn't even attempt to land some of the monsters I've fought W/O a chair. Even then I'd probably pay for it for a week or two. But tempt me and I'm a sucker for punishment.

These days I usually fish for bass, peacock bass or my favorite snook. Keep a rod in my truck. Haven't wet a line in a week or so.

 

[rwsmith]

Time and circumstances.....

Things change. Period. Stuff that I said I'd never do, I've had to do and stuff that I always wanted to do has taken a back burner, maybe permanently.

There were a few places I felt that spiritual power. We stayed at an undeveloped (except for residential) island in the off season. I'd spend hours walking the beach at night and were awed by the stars. The rhythm of the sea appeals to our innermost being.

The canal park. There was a canal going through the woods coming off lake Moultrie. I used to run along the banks and felt so energized I sparked inside. Then I'd smoke a cigar and contemplate life in general.

White water canoeing. I don't live near white water at all, but I always knew that I liked this sport and running on a wild river like the Chattooga (cue banjo music) was something that brought me close to the earth. I'm not real coordinated, but this was something I could do very well and fearlessly (though I had the wind knocked out of my sails a few times). I surprised a few experienced boaters by not getting dumped once, except when my partner jumped out of the boat without telling me. They took a lot more baths and piled up on rocks than I did. Just like shooting, the river is power in your hands and it can get away from you.

Camping in the Smokies. The national park is so badly overrun it just ain't the same. I can't enjoy camping anyway because my back is awful unless I have a substantial bed.

I could stand to approach shooting as a Zen experience, but I'd have to put my mind to it, because usually it's a rush and the indoor range is uncomfortable and noisy and the public range is full of dangerous people.

When I was young it was tennis everything. Spent days and nights on the court, rain or shine. It was great doing something vigorous outside.

We were both passionate about singing. We lived and breathed it, did concerts and the like all over, but when our boy came along, that went out the window. We stuck with church choir, but that had to go also. I loved playing the piano, but when I had to retire and our boy went delinquent I haven't felt up to playing. Music can 'transport' you. That's an old way to put it, but I was transported a LOT.

Painting, photography and art - immersed myself for years. Like the piano that has all gone by the wayside.

Astronomy - I was REALLY into it for many years. Awesome.

Now, it's chess. I'm a chess nut and play other people on the internet.

I've had other hobbies, but these activities I was especially passionate for.

The only two that grab me now are shooting and chess.

.

 

[shouldazagged]

Beautiful writing, Jack. Made me smell the surf.

 

[wbraswell]

You can always go to the beach. I don't know about surf fishing, but I know the love of the beach, and the surf, and the salt water. I also know the love of racing a motorcycle, albeit drag racing.

 

[vito]

I guess I'm lucky in that I can still indulge my passion. As a kid, and again as a very young man I yearned for a motorcycle. But like many others who felt that way, I succumbed to the fears of a young wife and worries about the fate of my young children should I ride and suffer the ultimate accident. But every time I saw someone on a motorcycle I wished it was me. Just before my 40th birthday, now with kids who were no longer babies (the youngest was about 7) I decided to satisfy my wish regardless of what my dear wife wanted. I've been riding ever since.

So as I started on this comment, I guess I am truly lucky that at 72, over 30 years after finally getting a bike, I am still an avid rider. The thrill of being on my bike on a beautiful warm day with all that power between my legs is just as exhilarating as it was all those years ago so I know I should count my blessings.

As a boy I was never much of an athlete, but took up long distance running as a sort of necessity to keep in shape while in the military. I loved the feeling of it and the reality that it kept me slim despite eating whatever I wanted, including lots of junk food. When my knees started to fail me and I had to give up running in my mid 50's it was a tough time for me. It was my one really major physical activity, and bicycling and walking with my now artificial knees was just not the same. But I lose little sleep over this loss since I still have my motorcycling.

And just as I ride differently than I did when I was younger (no more 800 mile days, that's for sure), maybe you could still do the surf fishing thing but just a bit milder than you used to do. My advice is to not totally forego your passion, but cling to it in any way that you can to make your life as full as it can be. I'll probably need to "downgrade" to a lighter bike in a few years, and maybe switch to a trike as some point, but I hope to keep riding in some manner as long as I am on the green side of the grass. I wish the same for you.

 

[rwsmith]

I don't hunt any more.......

I don't hunt any more but I love reading a good description of a hunting trip by somebody who has that passion and appreciation in feeling like you are in the right place at the right time in the outdoors.

Mostly I read 'true' stories but one that struck me was how a man described in fine detail about taking his old paths to places where he had hunted. You find out that he is dying, but he is transported back to the places and times that he loved best.

 

[walkin jack]

rider. The thrill of being on my bike on a beautiful warm day with all that power between my legs is just as exhilarating as it was all those years ago so I know I should count my blessings.

Absolutely! When family and friends ask me why I enjoyed motocross so much since the danger and potential for serious injury were so common and so likely I would look them in the eye and tell them:

"When you are flying through the air 10' off the ground at 60 mph with 200 lbs of hot steel throbbing between your legs you will be completely distracted from all worries about bills or work or any kind of problems. It is a catharsis which has no equal."

I read some where that riding motocross was the most total body work out you could get, even better than swimming. You use every set and subset of muscles in your entire body from head to toe. I never slept better than I did in those days.

'Course I did pay dearly for my passion...had my left leg broken out at the knee. Blood and bones sticking out every where. Had to have it rebuilt and 2 subsequent replacements. Most people just learn how to walk one time in their life. I've that pleasure 4 times.

But I was back doin' it in the dirt while I was still on crutches. I just couldn't leave it alone. I know that just doesn't make any sense. Perhaps no one but those who pursue risky activities with such fierceness can know the feeling, call it a rush or a high I don't know. I can't even seem to explain it myself. All I know is that I feel for those who have never known and will never know that feeling. It really helped me to bring my life into balance. You go out and spend a Sunday afternoon scaring the **** out of yourself you can face Monday morning with a serenity and tranquility that makes it all worth while.

 

[the ringo kid]

I was digging around in some old computer files and stumbled across a little diatribe I wrote in 2000 when I was only 56 years old. I'm not sure how much detail I have given on my passion for surf fishing but the term "ate up with it" would certainly be no exaggeration.

I couldn't help but compare my feelings on that now after all these years and all these changes in my physical capabilities, and changes in my attitude towards the past.

I'll let you read the piece as I wrote it in 2000 and then comment on my present feelings. I think it is interesting to examine how our years have affected us. I know we are all different but some might be surprised. I know I certainly was.

I haven't thought about it in years and almost couldn't find it. Reading it made me smile. Kind of made my skin tingle to recall the power of my passion for surf fishing. I always felt like the beach was my spiritual home and the surf was my spiritual mother. I went' down there once to camp for a couple of weeks and didn't leave the sand for 39 days.

In regards to my comments at the end about my "old bones" and not knowing how my conflict would be resolved, well, I guess I'm kind of relieved that it didn't end for me like I sometimes feared that it would. It ended for me the way it ends for most of us....I just slowed down and eventually didn't fish in the surf any more. I still haven't declared that my surf fishing days are over but on the other hand I haven't fished in the surf in a few years now. Seems like the "old bones" had the last word after all.

But the passion is still there. When I dredge up some of those old memories it can come over me without warning and I feel the thrill of the pull of a strong fish trying to pull me out to sea while the waves are pounding me and trying to get me off my feet. The smell of the salt air, the feel of the salt water against my skin.... Lawdy Miss Clawdy! I guess I can never fully explain it. I'm not sure I really understand it fully myself.

Anyway it was fun to read and compare how I felt in 2000 with how I feel today. I just wonder where all those years went and am I truly done with all that. It hardly seems possible. Sigh...........

************************************************** ********************************

S U R F F I S H E R M A N' S C U R S E

It is a most peculiar aspect of human nature that pain
and suffering seems to enhance ones passions, what
ever they may be. For me it is the surf. Few things
I've experienced have truly satisfied me like
standing in a pounding surf and fishing. Too late in
my life, I realized that I enjoyed fishing in the surf
BECAUSE of that challenge rather than IN SPITE of it.
The surf, as I have written before, is, in many ways,
like a lover, capable of stealing your life as you
expose yourself to her potentially deadly forces, or
making your wildest dreams come true. And each time it
is the mystery of "which will it be today" that draws
me to her. On the days she has been kind and generous
I leave feeling 100% fulfilled. On the days when I
escape her cold, cruel indifference with nothing but
my own life I still feel a kind of victory..."not
today, you witch!"

A lot of people that THINK they enjoy fishing haven't
ever experience true fishing fever, for which no cure
exists or is desired. One things is certain, it is a
life-time deal and it doesn't diminish with age. No
matter how much I do it or what the results, it's
never enough...not ever.

One strange thing, though, the more these old bones
protest, the more the spirit cries for more. I don't
know how this conflict is going to be resolved. It is
NOT how I want to meet my final reward but even I can
see the poetic justice, should it go that way.

Just remember that us "fin-addicts" DO need our pain...we
eat it like candy .......W. J.

Just wait till you buy a Jeep, your feelings will return. Next car I'm buying is a Jeep. I can't wait for the fun to begin.

 

[walkin jack]

I would like, at this point in this thread to recommend a book to read to feel the experiences of a truly obsessed out doorsman. The name of the book is "White Fish Don't Jump" by Dr. E. Donnell Thomas.

This is a true account by a medical doctor of how during the course of his pursuits gave up his medical practice and his family and all other aspects of his social life.
Each chapter is his account of catching a different species of fish on a fly rod.

But I don't mean to say that the book is about fishing. The book is about one mans relentless pursuit of his passion. He so fanatic the he would spend 2 weeks backpacking in to a stream or other water body that had never had a fishhook dropped into it. He designed his own flies totally shunned fishing in places where other people fished.

At the time I read this book I was feeling like I might be some kind of a weird-o or something. After I finished it I felt MUCH better about myself. I never let it effect my job or my family.

 

[the ringo kid]

Sabrina got me to reading a book called: A Hole In Our Gospel. This book covers many things and really gets you to thinking deeply. It can relate to the above a bit.

 

[Nevada Ed]

Born in the Bay area of SF Calif. , I can relate............

Fishing, surfing, clams, BBQ's ..........
Suds & kelp around your feet as you feel the grains of sand washing out under your feet as the waves reside.

 

[rwsmith]

That's a very good example

Each chapter is his account of catching a different species of fish on a fly rod.

But I don't mean to say that the book is about fishing. The book is about one mans relentless pursuit of his passion. He so fanatic the he would spend 2 weeks backpacking in to a stream or other water body that had never had a fishhook dropped into it. He designed his own flies totally shunned fishing in places where other people fished.

At the time I read this book I was feeling like I might be some kind of a weird-o or something. After I finished it I felt MUCH better about myself. I never let it effect my job or my family.

First that's a very good example of not being about how many fish you catch, but how you catch each one. I think that's great. I've read some account of catching huge fish on a fly rod. That's where fishing becomes angling, which is an art form. A friend of mine caught a record sheepshead on an ultralight reel. It was a good half hour of playing and fighting and he drew a crowd. That was some performance.

About reading. Man I enjoy good reading. Especially the kind that changes your life.

On being a weirdo. It's tough, but then you find out you have a lot of company. Weirdos Unite!