Like Father…like son.  A family fishing affair.

October 28, 2007 at 6:45 am

Like father…

...like son.

Like the majority of us who live and love the Yukon, I was born down south, in an urban environment.  My teenage years involved the mundane urban existance of riding skytrain, playing pick-up games on a basketball court or working at a mall shoe store for spending money.  Fortunately, after a bunch of schooling I saw the light and moved north over ten years ago.

Ending up in Inuvik I was smack in the middle of wilderness and an existance that involved getting outside fishing, hunting and camping.  While the move to Whitehorse brought with it the convenience of a latte from the Backerei, or imported cheese from the Deli, we still live in the wild.  It is fair to say that in Whitehorse we have choice to be a yuppie living a Vancouver style-existence or a trapper living in the bush.  The beauty in this is that we have a whole bunch of other ways to living in between.  I like to think I am straddling two worlds, bringing home food for the family from the wild, yet living with more Ikea furniture than someone from Richmond. 

Why do we enjoy the outdoors so much, while others are quite content with city-life?  Of course being surrounded by the endless wilderness would motivate us to get out, but I think there is more to it than this.  I think there is a predisposition in all of us to enjoy the outdoors triggered by something.
 
For born and raised Yukoners…its a given, cottage country Ontario residents..living and playing in the outdoors is a given. What about people like me, born and raised in a city with little outdoor experience growing up?  Sure my parents took me out hiking, skiing and the odd camping trip but generally malls, high school sports and girlfriends pre-occupied me.  My Dad, a hard and long hours working big city chef did manage to get out to do a little fishing and hunting when I was very young. We did not come along on those few trips but I have fond memories of hearing the stories of grizzly bears, moose and Dean River fly-fishing for BC steelhead.  I also remember staring at pictures of my Dad with his wired-up, mud covered, unshaven, grinning cheek to cheek face holding beautiful wild salmon.  At the time, somewhat insignificant, but now later in life I realize that this had a big impact on me.

While living in Inuvik, I had a choice, sit in front of my TV, play bingo, start smoking, drink and go to the bars…or worse.  Fortunately, I never got into this scene and bought a snowmobile, a fly rod and started getting out.  My first time riding a snowmobile across the frozen tundra I recall looking for the gas pedal on the machine.  I bought a few more toys and was able to get out and enjoy with locals.  This is where I met a few good friends and we enjoyed muddling through whatever adventure we could get into.  Now in Whitehorse, I have endless opportunities to fish minutes or days from town. 

My Dad stopped fishing and hunting decades ago.  He handed in the rifle and rod for a tennis racket and golf clubs.  Interestingly he has started fly-fishing again.  His friend from elementary school in Germany and a close family friend is an expert fly-angler and comes to BC every year to get into a mess of fish.  For the last two years, my Dad has been setting out with him again.  A few weeks ago they took off to Campbell River in search of Coho.  I just received the pictures and was instantly reminded of those photos back in the office.  This is where it all started.  Most remarkable was the fact that as he was fly-fishing Coho in BC I was fly-fishing for them in Alaska. 

Like father like son.  If only I would have paid more attention to his cooking, this might have rubbed off on me as well.

Like Father…

...like son

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