I remember the first day I liked girls, its so clear in my head. I was nine and we were making a dam in a sandbox with a hose (I always loved breaching the dam because then the salmon would be free), and there on the swing set was my friend, who happened to be a gross girl with cooties, but suddenly she wasn’t, suddenly I was in love. Puppy love for sure, I mean I was nine, but I remember that feeling.

When I was young I loved fishing, I don’t quite remember catching my first fish, just snap shots of the culvert here in Juneau, near twin lakes, the body of water I typically catch my first fish of the season. I remember seeing porpoises playing out in the middle of the cove at auke rec, where I caught two dollies. I remember I was 4, I only remember that because that was the year I had a lot of different birthday parties. I don’t know what I used or how we did it, I don’t know how my parents even knew how to help me catch fish, but I caught a little salmon or something, and a few dollies, and watched the dolphins play. I wish there was a picture of that fish, or something else I could remember, its all just snapshots of images I don’t even remember the fish, just casting. My mind looks at myself though, I don’t remember what I saw with my eyes, I just see a little blond kid with a zebco standing by a culvert fishing. Maybe I was using a spinner.

My next memory of fishing comes from a stocked lake about an hour and a half south of my childhood home, it was kids fishing day, and I watched the scared rainbows swim in circles wondering if they should eat the bait or not. I eventually did catch one and we brought it home and I had to clean it, and it was gross. I think without fish guts I would not be a catch and release angler today, or even a fly fisherman at all, but we’ll get to that. Anyway fish guts are gross. I remember the cruising lake trout one spring, the time I lost my beloved zebco, I remember the epic pink run, I remember the fire station hole, the cut bank up the creek, the little dam by the bridge, the wet feet and the devils club.

I wish I could go back and see all these things again. I remember so many situations that now seem like they could lead to epic days on the water. I never have seen those cruising lake trout again, the pink run never got as far as it did upstream as that one summer, and the fire station hole is only a few inches deep anymore. I often wonder if the creeks changed or if I changed, I know I grew bigger, I know that what once seemed huge now seems teeny, but the trout as my metric, an eight inch char out of a 3 foot wide stream is a good fish anywhere in the world, and I seemed to know that back then.

Honestly I don’t remember why I fished at all, maybe its just what we did, I mean my parents didn’t really ever fish, I’m not sure either of them has had a fishing license in ten years. My best friend though, his dad loves fishing, and he loved us kids, and took us all over the place. We would sit on the dock and dunk worms, then he built a great big canoe and we’d go around in the canoe trolling, the fish weren’t big or particularly handsome, or really any of the qualities I look for in a fish now, but being on that lake with the mountains and the geese and the sunset without a care in the world was as good as it ever will get. I’m sure he felt the same way; I bet we made him feel young again. I hope so.

I find myself awake tonight pondering life, going over the choices I have made, and the choices that were made for me. I wonder about my future, I wonder if love is worth it. I wonder if I can afford to throw my heart out there, even though its bound to get broken. I wonder if I can be happy to be alone. I scheme, I make plans, I make excuses for why I shouldn’t try, I try to figure out why I should. I worry about life, I worry about school, I worry about my next meal.

I want to feel that feeling again though, no cares no worries, just me and the mountains and the sky, and maybe someone who is young at heart to show me that I need to be happy catching the small fish. To show me that when I was nine I knew all I really needed to know about life. I have much more knowledge now of how the world works, why fish bite, where the big ones live, but I have no more knowledge of what makes me happy and what I want. I want to hold hands with that girl on the swing set, and I want to tear down the dams so the salmon can be free.

It snowed last night, I went to bed at 2am after a long night of carving fish onto mugs after spending 4 hours at the bar when I meant to stop in and pickup some food and leave. I got home on the slippery roads pulled past her new guys truck in the driveway, in the bed was a nice salmon net, one with knots, the mark of a bait fisherman around here. I couldn’t sleep, I sat there thinking about the new guy in the bed that was once half mine, I’m out of options, I can’t ignore it I can’t run, all I can do is live. Last night living was hard, this morning living was easier, and tomorrow it might be even easier. I’m moving out on the 18th of December and never going back to that place. I’m never gonna have to see the baitfisher/sledneck mobile out front again, I’m never gonna have to run into them on their way out as I’m pulling in. I won’t have to think about my faults, about my weaknesses, and her weaknesses and her faults. I’ll be able to remember her for what she was and not what she is now.

Yea I’m running from my problems but what else can I do? I’m stuck here, I have 2 classes left and some research to do to finish my degree then I can leave this town and I never have to come back unless I want to. Until then I’m stuck. Five weeks left, I can’t believe I made it this far quite frankly. I can’t believe how hard this is, I can’t believe everyone has to go through this and comes out alive. Thank god for TV on the internet, youtube and depressing music, without it I would never sleep. At least she waited till I was out of field camp, otherwise I might have gone off the rocker, packed some food and some bugnets and disappeared to the lake for months. I still might go off the rocker, every day I don’t go apeshit and start hurting things is a new win, a small victory.

God I wish there were fish to catch, I wish the light was returning, I wish the snow was melting instead of falling. Only five months till steelhead, they can’t show up soon enough.