"Of all the activities which I've always planned to one day do, with the exception of a mere twice, fishing has so far escaped my net. When I think about the peace and serenity to be had and of the leisurely wait for the fish to take my bait, I am tempted to nip out to the angling shop this instance and purchase the necessary equipment. The dog comes at an extra cost, but she makes a good retriever of the catch, I understand.
At the age of 21 years, I worked in a Toronto hotel with Ron. It was he who first took me out fishing and showed me another world devoid of all manner of stress. Ron was a twice-divorced man with two addictions; neither of which included the payment of alimony to his ex wives. He was a gambler and an entrenched alcoholic. His pattern of work involved working double shifts until he could save enough to place a $1,000 bet on the horses (approximately ten weeks wages with tips in 1963). If he lost, he worked double shifts for another two months until he could place another $1,000 wager. But when he won, he would stock up with drink and a backpack of canned food, fill up his old Ford station wagon with a tank of gas and head off to the mountains for four weeks to fish and drink and drink and fish. He used to drink so much that he'd hold conversations with all manner of pond life. He would return to his work when the money and alcohol had run out and the time had arrived for him once more to 'dry out.' Paradoxically; until he went fishing again, not one drop of alcohol would pass his lips. This pattern of life had apparently continued as it had then done for many years.
I once asked Ron,'But aren't you lonely up there in those wild hills and valleys with nobody but the fish to talk to?' He replied,'You'd be surprised, Bill, how informative fish can be and how few arguments you get into when you only have yourself and the fish to argue with.' He loved his pattern of life and who was I to say whether or not it was the best life for him or not? " William Forde : August 22th, 2013.