The Revelation

In truth, this is really all about escape. It is a journey of introspection, a sojourn in a place with just myself and my thoughts, past, present and future. Standing in a river alone, away from civilization complete in my solitude, allows me to view life from a more peaceful, serene vantage point. It opens up both old memories and new perspectives.

Previous entries have discussed the experiences I’ve had whenever I would go on a trip to one of our local rivers. I have explained a technique, provided a bit of trivia, or even described a location and the journey there and back, complete with sound track. 🙂 I would also usually include an update on my success (or otherwise) of the day. But this is not about the fish.

Much of the time I find myself thinking about my father, which is only natural because I would go fishing with him when I was a young boy. I would think about the day trips to local streams and lakes, the long night drives to remote rivers so that we’d be there in time for the season to open, and going camping to Quebec, Algonquin Park or Temagami.

Coincidentally, on all of those trips I would be deep in thought as well, since my father and I didn’t really do much communicating when I was young. In fact the fishing trips were really the only times that we did spend any appreciable time together, and even then didn’t speak much as we didn’t have much in common.

I was young, precocious and an idealist; my father was older, with decidedly different ideals and views.

He was an army veteran, having served on the Northwestern Frontier campaign in India, and in World War II. His childhood was one of hardship. He lost his mother at the age of 9, and was brought up by his maternal aunt, since his father was a sailor and seldom around. While he was still a minor he enlisted in the army, and his life and opinions were shaped by experiences that would make most men recoil in horror.

My childhood was quite different. While I did learn some hard (and vital) lessons during the years I lived in Glasgow, for the most part my life was sheltered and secure. I was driven by a thirst for knowledge and I would read incessantly, learning as much as I could about anything and everything. This served me well academically, but when it came time to converse with my father we would seldom see eye to eye, and there was very little interaction between us unless we were arguing.

Yet for all of this, he would still take me fishing, although I think he would have had more fun by himself. We would rent a cabin, or take a trailer and camp by the side of a lake. Sometimes we would go out by boat or canoe, other times we’d just fish from the bank. Over the course of the week we would spend hours on the water, sometimes talking, but mostly thinking our own thoughts, much as I do now.

At night it was different. We’d sit by the campfire and chat. I learned a lot of things on these trips, and we’d somehow put aside our differences, and truly enjoyed each other’s company. He would talk about his father, and you could see the love he held for him even though he was seldom there for him. My grandfather sailed on old tea clippers, three masted tall ships, and my father, on rare occasion, would be able to go on some of the shorter trips in the summers, sailing for a week or two around Europe and Africa.

Sometimes he would tell me about India, Egypt or the Mideast, places he lived in as a soldier, entertaining me with tales of the local customs and descriptions of the beauty of each place. The reasons for him being there were not discussed then; those conversations took place at a much later date and time, when I had grown up considerably.

Then, inevitably, the week would end, and we’d pack up and head home. Once there it didn’t take us long to fall back into the usual routine, sadly to say.

It wasn’t until later in life that we managed to reconcile our differences. We still disagreed, and truthfully, much of what shaped me as a man and father was borne out of my determination to be different or better, but there was also much that was learned as I started to see things from his perspective, and there is a lot that he passed down that I’m very thankful for.

I learned the importance of honour, honesty, loyalty, fidelity and courage. He taught me to judge a person by their deeds and character, not their appearance. I learned to embrace the beauty of diversity for all that it brings, welcoming people of different faiths, colour and race and learning from our differences, broadening my horizons and developing my own character.

Despite our differences my dad always stood by me, and was there for me, because I was his responsibility, and abdicating responsibility is never an option. I learned that from him.

And, he taught me to fish.