Many of our family vacations were situated at my Uncle Bob’s cottage on Sturgeon Lake, just outside of Fenelon Falls, Ontario. The cottage was the most common place to spend time with my mom’s extended family, but the family always seemed divided as a result of differing interests. Each summer, my siblings and I had a hard time relating to our distant family members, especially if they did not participate in the typical cottage-life activities that us kids loved.
At the cottage, my sister, my brother, and I could be found taking trips to town, going for walks, playing at the park, swimming, boating, and fishing. Fishing was the activity that separated us the most from the rest of the family. It seemed to me like my other family members could not understand why we had a keen interest in such a boring pastime. However, fishing was anything but boring to us!
For longer than I can remember, my dad has been an avid angler. Each summer, when he was supposed to be surpervising the kids swimming in the water, my dad would stand on the edge of Uncle Bob’s dock and cast into the deep blue water. Although my sister never developed much of an angling interest, my dad encouraged my brother and me to wet our lines whenever we had a chance. Dad used the dock as a learning place, teaching each of us how to perfect our casts, consistently reel in, and anticipate a big catch. Together, we would cast for hours, sometimes only landing one or two small bass. Our luck was never great, but my dad, my brother, and I still had fun anyways, with or without the rest of the family.
The summer of 1995, my Great Uncle Clyde decided to take his vacation with the rest of the family at the lake. Since Uncle Clyde lived a few hours away from my immediate family, I rarely got the chance to see him except for this summer at the cottage. The week passed by with the usual cottage-life activities, but this time, Uncle Clyde shared our enthusiastic love for fishing. Until now, my dad had been the only avid fisherman of the family and angling was still viewed by the others as an obscure pastime. Upon Uncle Clyde’s arrival, the rest of the family was in for a surprise.
Uncle Clyde displayed a genetically uncharacteristic passion for angling. From the moment he arrived, Clyde headed straight to the dock to survey the fluid surroundings. He unpacked his rod and reel, and immediately threw a cast off the dock. As much as he was there for a traditional family visit, Clyde was at the cottage to catch a big one. He had his mind set and decided that the end of the dock would be his designated locale for the week.
Although Clyde was confident in his angling ability, Uncle Bob’s dock was never considered a “hot spot” by any means. My dad did not want to disappoint Uncle Clyde and informed him that, “There are better spots on this lake. Clyde, let me take you to another spot. We rarely catch anything decent off the end of Bob’s dock”. But Uncle Clyde would not listen. “Oh Bill,” he said to my Dad, “You just gotta have a little faith. There’s a big one out there. I know it!”
The hype from Uncle Clyde’s angling persistence spread to the dry-land family members, who finally decided to venture down to the dock to see what this fishing was all about. As the crowd grew bigger, Clyde confidently explained, “I know there’s a big bass out there and I’m gonna get it!”
As the days passed by, my dad’s prediction of the spot was still valid. Uncle Clyde had not caught much, and what little fish he did manage to reel in were not even close to trophy-size. Beneath the surface of bad luck, hope still remained. Each time Uncle Clyde cast a line off the end of the dock, my dad, my brother, and I were there anxiously waiting for Clyde to land that big one.
His last night at the cottage, Clyde had not given up. All the family members had ventured down to the water to see if Clyde would claim his prize from the depths of Sturgeon Lake. The sun had set, but the stifling heat of a summer’s night still hung in the air. The mosquitoes were awake and hungry, which made the thought of staying on the dock longer than necessary almost unbearable. Still, Uncle Clyde would not give up. “A few more casts”, he proclaimed, “That’s all I need.”
Although Uncle Clyde’s angling tips and enthusiastic attitude were appreciated, my brother and I were excited for Uncle Clyde’s departure the next day. Clyde’s visit had almost come to an end, and that meant that we could reclaim our spots at the end of the dock. At this point, most of the family had returned to the comforts of the cottages, but my dad, my brother, and I still lingered around the dock, waiting to see if Clyde would finally admit that the lake (and the large bass that were hiding at the bottom) had finally gotten the best of him.
Suddenly, Clyde shouted, “I’ve got ‘em!”, as he assertively reeled in his line. Much to our surprise, Uncle Clyde’s catch was not as small as we had thought it would be. The hefty 3 pounder was a record catch for Uncle Bob’s dock. The rest of the family rushed down to see what the action was all about, as Clyde maintained a cool disposition with a sly grin on his face. “I told you so,” was his only reply.
Uncle Clyde left the cottage that year with just what he had hoped for. Unfortunately, Clyde passed away a few years later and never got the chance to revisit his spot on the end of the Bob’s dock. However, Clyde’s prize-worthy catch became a legendary story that is discussed, still to this day, at many family gatherings.
I value the short amount of time that I spent with Uncle Clyde, even though he did take over our childhood fishing spot. Clyde is an exemplary fisherman. He defied the standards of Sturgeon Lake fishing and demonstrated that persistence pays off even through the worst of luck. Due to Clyde’s success, the non-anglers of the family now realize that our so-called boring pastime is actually an action-packed, skillful hobby.
Ultimately, Uncle Clyde brought the family closer through demonstrating the true experiences of the good ol’ sport of fishing.
