Play Ball...Gold fish and diamonds define Canadian trip
By Darrell Pendergrass
We’ll be in Canada next week at this time and we’ve already gotten our most important piece of equipment packed and ready to go. This particular item is a must-have when going north, but it’s one of those over-looked things that usually goes amiss.
Is it a fishing pole, you ask? Come on, there’s so many walleyes up there in the land of maple syrup and hockey you can limit out with a tree branch and a piece of string. There are guys in our crew who actually use children’s cartoon-character poles in order to have a challenge. My son once hung a scrap of line off a bungee cord, secured it to the anchor and used the bounce of the waves to jig - and caught fish.
I agree; fishing is important, it is why we’re going. It makes sense that a fishing pole would be a necessary item. We’ll all be after those elusive 30-inch walleyes; those broad-shouldered brutes that have to be cranked to the surface with a crane. Most certainly there will be many 25-inch-plus walleyes caught. The fishing is why we come here.
Already I feel like I’m there - the open water, the miles of pristine shoreline, the serenity of being alone – it’s enough to make a guy giddy. We’ll have a camp fire in the evening. There will be laughter and a lot of fun. Cigars.
There’s also room for shore lunches at noon on the many sandy beaches. The fish we’ll eat is as fresh as it could possibly be. Sometimes guys put on 10 pounds up there, no need going if you’re thinking of losing some weight.
But no, it’s not a fishing pole.
What we got is a new whiffle-ball bat. Really; I’m being serious here. We bought a new plastic kids’ bat, and we’re taking it to Canada.
After a full day of angling on the waters of Lac Seul will find ourselves back at the resort in the early evening; there will be some down time between then and when we eat (we’re always eating). The army of young men and older boys who accompany the rest of us will take over the campground for a spirited game of whiffle ball. Truly, it’s this game that sets the trip apart from others.
Through the years hundreds of homeruns have been launched over the power line that crosses near the aspen down by the lower road. To date nobody has been seriously injured on the sloping field of grass, rocks and tree roots. A green-monster of a lilac bush lingers out in right field. Bases might be pieces of cardboard.
We usually bring two or three bats in case one is damaged, and we’ll have half a dozen balls. I’m certain some of our lost balls still loiter under the steps of the cabins.
While dinner is simmering in the middle cabin an audience of former players gathers along the foul line to watch the young guys compete in this sacred game. Oddly enough, there isn’t a lot of arguing during these contests.
And the games are almost legendary; like the time Al cleaved a homerun over the line and with it took $10 from Ben and Andrew, who each thought that just because Al was over 60-years in age he couldn’t hit anymore. What they didn’t know until this moment is that Al and I beefed up the bat with tape right before he got up to the plate. We aren’t above cheating.
Canada is like that, though. It makes boys out of men, and lets boys remain boys. Fishing trips aren’t always about fishing. Fishing trips are about fun.
And since there are so many walleyes there, if you lose your fishing pole you can always tie a line to the waffle-ball bat.
It might just happen.
Darrell Pendergrass lives in Grand View