Nervous, Rex?

Stress kills. It's a terrible thing that builds up in layers like varnish or old paint. Flaking off and making you look and feel old and tired. When I need to shed a few layers of the stuff I put rod in hand and head to the wooded shores of some beautiful lake or stream. Beautiful lake or stream? I don't think I know an ugly one. I do however know a few that are even more beautiful than others like a slightly larger or better faceted diamond. Sometimes I go alone. I can and have spent days in the bush by myself, even in the wilds of northern Alberta or the NWT. Usually with rod or gun, my trusty dog and always my camera. Often too I go with my friends. Not just any friends either. Sportsmen have friends and they have fishing or hunting buddies. They are often quite different groups although usually they overlap.


Years ago while working for McDonald's one of my best friends John and I decided to take a stress day and head out into the bush and do a bit of fishing. Just the two of us. We fished together many times and the trips when there was just the two of us would be serious fishing trips. That is to say that the purpose of the trip would be to put line in water and catch fish. Any fish, depending on the season. Early season would be trout, brook trout, beautiful chunky little things eight to fourteen inches. one half to two ponders usually (more of the former than the latter). We also went for small mouth bass, at the height of their season in late May, they were marvelous. Possibly the Best fighting sport fish ounce for ounce. Caught on 4 pound test ultra light spin cast rods they rival Pike and Walleye for flat out adrenaline pumping action. But we would fish for anything.


Sometimes we were joined by others, and depending on the mix of the group the nature of the trip would change. Sometimes the beer and the carrying on overtook the fishing but always it was enjoyable, just different. So it was that John and I happened to be sitting in the break room discussing the logistics of the trip. Where were we going, to catch what? Whose car? Who was bringing the bait and what kind? If we were bringing beer who was bringing the beer? When were we leaving? Truth be told I think I love the planning and preparation as much as the trip itself. Sometimes even more. While we were talking people were coming and going as shifts changed. We were coming off shift others were going on. Soon Mark was leaning over the table. "Going fishing eh? Count me in!" he said, thumping the table. Mark was a lot of fun and he was always welcome. Peter who was on our shift was staying late to cover for someone who had called in sick. "Fishing? Whooo Hooo!" I'm in! Don't matter what for or where I'm in!" Good a car full. This was the perfect size group for fishing. Only one vehicle, not too big a group everyone can find a good spot to fish. Perfect.


Perfect has a way of not staying perfect. Suddenly out of nowhere, appeared Dave and Kevin. "What's up boy's? You guys planning something?" "Fishing!" Mark expounded, before he noticed my finger go to my lips. "YES SIR!" Shouted Kevin. "I'm bringing the beer! You can drive'" He said looking at Dave. Things were getting complicated. "All right!" I said a trifle testily. "Six is enough." No sooner were the words out of my mouth when Rex walked in. Rex was the boss. In theory his shift should have been over hours ago but here he was still in his shirt and tie. His wife Carol was with him. "Did I miss a staff meeting?" he said cheerily as he entered the room. "Fishing!" shouted Mark. "We're going fishing!" John and I shot a glance at each other. Things were rapidly spiralling out of control. Carol dug an elbow into Rex's ribs. "You should go fishing! You never take a day off!" It was true. Rex was a workaholic of the first order. He was the first one there in the morning and very often the last one out at night. He looked like a workaholic. He was rail thin, with a nervous laugh and quick movements. He smoked constantly. He never stood still. He had never struck me as a fisherman. "Right!" said Rex ""I'm in!" John and I were staring at each other eyes wide. In a matter of minutes the details were worked out. We would meet the next morning way before dawn for the forty minute drive. to a lovely little lake.


I picked John up a few minutes before the appointed time. We got a drive through coffee. We had our favorite fishing duds on. In the parking lot of the restaurant the others were waiting. We split the load between two cars. The drive was pleasant enough, we were headed east but the sun had not even risen when we reached the road to the lake. We parked the cars and took the ten minute walk to the lake. We formed quite the procession as we headed through the bush which was still wet with the dew. The boys in front held back the branches and let them fly, soaking the guys behind. There was general merriment and cavorting. We exchanged insults. Somebody farted. Everyone blamed everyone. Rex looked chagrined. A huge branch caught him in the chest. His windbreaker was soaked. Suddenly there was an uncomfortable silence. "Sorry!" Said Mark, the most boisterous of us all. Rex brushed the water from his chest picking a leaf from his lapel. We reached the lake. We spread out along the shore. Everyone filed past the cooler that held the beer, everyone that is except Rex. There was the sound of six beers being cracked at once. "It isn't even 6 am.!" Rex said in a disdainful tone. "Yeah," said Mark "This might be a record!" "Hey, get off my rock!" Someone shouted there was a bit of good natured pushing as we spread out in a line along the shore. We limbered our rods, lines were being cast. I watched Rex, he seemed not to know how to cast his rod. "New rod?" I asked. "Yeah. I got it for Christmas. Three years ago. Never used it." "Three years ago?" I replied " Holy Cow, Rex you really should get out more." He snapped on a lure and drew his rod back. He brought it forward in a mighty arc, but did not take his finger off the line. There was a mighty crack and the lure sailed fifty rads out into the lake with a splash that broke the morning calm. "Great cast, boss!" Mark added cheerily. "That" I replied "Was not a cast, his line broke!" "You're telling me!" Rex replied "That lure cost me $2.59 not to mention the swivel. They're 3 for a dollar." "So $2.92" John added with not a small amount of sarcasm in his voice. "No, John, that's $3.13 with tax! I will be taking a closer look at your inventories." John seemed to shrink. Rex was the kind of guy who knew what he paid for everything even at work. He would say, "Hey watch those drink lids, they cost $3.22 per hundred you know." In fact I did not know. Unlike Rex I did not memorize the prices in the food catalogue. Rex was one of these guys who , to steal a line from Oscar Wilde, knew the price of everything and the value of nothing.



I took his rod and his small tackle box which held only a few measly items. I tied a new swivel and a new lure. "Tie it good I can't afford to keep losing lures." Rex said. I shivered. I checked the knot twice. "Here, let me make the first cast, you retrieve it." This he did, retrieving the line so fast that no fish known to man could have caught up with it. He made a successful cast and then retrieved this the same way. When the line hit the rod tip the second time he said something I couldn't even comprehend. "There's nothing in this lake let's go!" "I haven't even made my first cast!" I replied. "No one is getting anything!" he added. "Well we've just opened beers so let us finish them first." I glanced at John, he looked at me with eyes wide. He looked stressed. I felt stressed. Normally about this time I would be sloughing off layers of stress like a Boa Constrictor shedding skin. John lit a smoke, his hands were shaking. I made my first cast and took a sip of beer. My line slid effortlessly through the guides of my rod and landed perfectly where I wanted it too. There's a deep spot there that always seems to hold trout. No sooner had I started my retrieve when I felt the familiar shaking strike. I raised my rod tip and my voice at the same time. "I got one!" I cried. Then Rex raised his voice "Me too!" he cried. At first I was elated. I figured if he caught something he would relax. Then my heart sank, his line was over top of mine. He had a fish alright, only it was mine! "We're tangled." I said, my voice full of despair. "Let me take your rod Boss" John added. Rex handed him the rod. "Don't lose my lure." Rex scolded. John winced. John has a deft touch and is an expert at unraveling lines. We reeled in together but the lines were hopelessly tangled and soon my trout had spit the hook. We got the lines in and cut mine so we could save Rex's lure. "There, your $3.13 is safe." he added handing Rex his rod. Actually this one cost $3.79 so that's $4.40" John gave me a stunned glance. He was visibly shaking now. I retied my line and cast again. Not far off I heard Mark cry with delight. "I got one!" his rod tip bent and his reel sang. Soon he had a dandy trout on the shore. "Hey!'He's bleeding from the corner of the mouth must be the one you lost!" "I lost!" I bit my lip. Rex piped up again. "That's it this lake is fished out let's move." We all looked at each other. We hadn't been here half an hour. The first streaks of dawn were just paling the sky.


By now everyone was eyeing Rex. They all had a hint of impatience in their eyes that I had never seen there on a fishing trip before. Usually the mood was light, the jibes were friendly and jovial. This group was beginning to look like they would take each others heads off. I could feel a knot in my neck that was tightening by the minute.



I gritted my teeth and tried to make the best of it. "How about a cup of of Joe?" I said to break the ice. A cheer went up so I built a fire and dragged out my cowboy coffee pot a blue enamel peculator that has seen many a campfire. Soon the smell of good strong coffee filled the air. The guys put aside their beer and we enjoyed a hot cup. The chatter lightened and the boys returned to fishing.


Rex made a cast as I put the coffee pot away, In mid retrieve his line stopped. I knew it was not a bite. Right away he was reefing on the line the rod bent double. "You've caught the biggest thing in the lake!" I cried. "The bottom!" the rest of the guys chimed in unison like a well rehearsed choir. They had been fishing with me many times and had heard the joke before, many, many times. Rex didn't seem impressed and he definitely wasn't laughing. "John!" I cried and John took Rex's rod and gently tried his magic on it. "It's hopeless." he whispered, nudging me. "Great! " I moaned. I broke the news to Rex. "We'll have to cut the line." "The hell we do!" stormed Rex. He sat down, took off his boots and waded out to where his line was stuck and retrieved that hook. He returned with it held over his head in triumph.



A few more casts and he was ready to move again. This time we all filed to the vehicles. Heads down. John seemed to be shaking worse than ever, the knot in my neck was the size of a baseball. We drove to a nearby stream and again the boys spread out, some on the bridge some on the banks. Lines were crossing like crazy. Tempers were fraying. Hardly anyone was getting even a bite, it seemed that the mere presence of Rex and his impatience was casting a pall over the whole trip. Soon we moved again. We stopped for lurch at the shore of a lake that had an actual beach. We cut hot dog sticks and roasted wieners. We broke out ketchup packages to season the roasted franks. "Hey, these are our ketchup packets. These cost seven tenths of a cent!" Rex said. " Each!"Everyone looked at each other. We always took a few packets with us when we went fishing we never even gave it a thought. We ate in silence.



The afternoon didn't get any better. Rex did catch a fish. Which was good. I was skunked and so was John. It was almost a relief when the sun began to set over the last of many fishing holes we had visited. I was almost running out of new places to fish. We filed to the cars and mercifully Rex was going back in the other car. I drove white knuckled to the city, slowly shedding the boys as we went. I dropped them off in silence. Usually there would be cheery good byes and derogatory remarks about who was the best fisherman. John was the last one I dropped off. He looked at me exhausted. "I feel like I just got off a very long shift!" " No kidding." I replied. The knot in my neck was the size of a grapefruit. "See you tomorrow!"



We were on night shift the next day. We met at the staff room at around four pm. The gang was filing in for work. "The next time we go fishing..." John said, his finger raised like my fifth grade teacher making a point. "don't breathe a word of it until we are alone." "Fair enough!" I replied "These walls have ears." Just then Carol, Rex's wife burst into the room. She had her coat on. "We are just on our way out for dinner!" She said cheerily. "Dinner, Rex?" both John and I said in stunned unison. "Yes, he's like a changed man. He even slept through the whole night last night. He never does that. Fishing is so relaxing! You must take him again next time you boys go!" She turned on her heel and was gone. John's lip was trembling, I rubbed my neck. "Yeah, very relaxing!" I said.