Turning 40: Summer is for Fishing…and Fish Stories

This post is the second in an ongoing series detailing some of the things that made me as strange as I am today.  If you like, you can go back and read Part 1.

Summer in Anchorage is awesome, except when it's not.  But most of the summers I remember were warm when they needed to be but rarely too hot.  And let me tell you, the long days can be filled McKinley high with mischief.  Mischief and fishing.

Now, I wouldn't characterize myself as a great fisherman, and much of the fishing we did as boys involved looking for a calm eddy in Campbell Creek where trout would rest, then dropping in a line and trying to hook a big one.  And by big, I mean bigger than the bait, and that's about it most of the time.  The bait was generally some kind of canned fish egg like Glo-Balls (which I can't find online but I know they existed).  Secondary Friend (SF) used to eat them.  Ew, right?

Of course, you didn't need a fishing pole for this kind of fishing.  You just needed a bike, a short stick, and about two feet of fishing line with a hook and maybe a sinker on it.  I can't even remember the term we had for it, other than "bastards."  I know, not the best name for it, and I should probably apologize to my mom and big sister (you know which one) for using such language.  But the name stuck because once while fishing, sometime after Best Friend #2 (BF2) took a dump in the woods, we realized it was time to head home.

BF2: "Let's roll these bastards up."

SF: "My bastard's rolled up."

<five minutes of laughter.>

You had to be there.  But that's generally the way it works with boys.

Now, I should clarify that we often would do real fishing, with actual rods and tackle-boxes and everything.  We'd hop our bikes (fishing requires bikes, I guess) and head to Taku Lake, and then we'd really fish.  Generally we'd find a nice place on the shore, or close to the shore, or maybe just a bit into the reeds, or okay maybe up to our knees, but we were gonna get wet anyway and how are we supposed to catch anything standing on the bank, mom?  We need a boat!

Anyway, we hauled in some pretty big fish…stories over there.  The nice thing is that the smallest fish provides PLENTY of fish smell to support even the biggest fish story.  I'm telling you, the thing was three feet long if it was an inch!

But do you know what else supports a good fish story?  Buddies.  Pals.  Amigos.  Because even though they were right next to you when you hauled in that two and a half ounce fish, they'd back you if you said you nearly landed Moby Dick.  I'm not sure our moms ever bought it, but they also didn't complain much about the fishy laundry.  (Getting rid of us for ten hours or so probably helped.)

We figured the fishy clothes completely masked the smell of the Little Castle Arcade, conveniently located only a half mile or so from Taku Lake.  The nice thing about fish smell is it doesn't take much time to settle in, even if you've spent ninety percent of your "fishing" time trying to get past level seven on "R-Type" (If only we'd had YouTube back then!). But one thing you definitely don't do is get fishy before hitting the Dimond Center, because Pretzels with Cheese don't go well with fish hands.  At all.

Fishing.  Pals.  Bikes.  Video Games.  Pretzels.  Deceit.  Those are the main ingredients in a great summer.  Agree?  Feel free to chime in with memories of summer.

By the way, if you're keeping track, it's now two posts detailing the one thing we did 100% of the time.  It was video games.  Also fishing.  Both 100%.

Of course, we didn't stop fishing when we were twelve or anything, and it might be entertaining to do a future post on such highlights as our famous "suicide runs" down to the Russian River (after working graveyard shift), or that time when we saw a small plane crash, then crashed our boat on the way to render aid.  Good times.  (I still have a split in my eyebrow!)

For my next trip down memory lane, it's the 100% time spent playing kickball, tree-climbing, and pond-skimming!  Styrofoam floatation!  Mutant fish!