Gone fishing- almost

I remember the first time I went fishing as a kid. It was with my cousin Susan and her boyfriend Rob (I think that was his name). We went to Lakeland Park- a series of reclaimed mines turned into a pay to fish park. I caught one fish, a bluegill on my Snoopy pole. We put it in a bucket full of water and brought it home, which I thought was pretty awesome. Then, they brought out the knife. What were they going to do to my fish- my friend the bluegill that I had recently impaled with a hook and forcibly brought from its home? I protested (that means cried in the parlance of a four-year-old) until they agreed not to kill my best friend in the world and instead opted to bring out an aerator so I could keep it as a pet. Forever we would be together. I went to bed, dreaming of the adventures me and bluey (the bluegill) would have. When I woke up the next morning, I ran outside and saw him floating on top of the water… dead. I was immediately hooked on fishing.

I didn’t understand adults at all. Why did they spend so much time sitting and reading and so little time fishing? I would beg and attempt to cajole any adult who would listen into going with me. They were all so lame and wouldn’t ever take me, or at least rarely take me. There was, of course, one exception- my grandpa John. He would take me fishing nearly every day I was with him, which was almost often enough. We would go to the ponds that his car could reach (he was confined to a wheelchair and mobility was always an issue) and sit on the bank fishing for several hours after the day’s chores were done.

As I grew up, I fished less and less- until eventually, I would fish once a year. Then it dwindled further to once every few years. Since I have moved to Maine, I can count on one hand the number of times I have been fishing, and I have been here eight years. I have resolved to do something about that.

This week, I planned on going fishing at least twice. This morning I grabbed my L.L Bean Flyrod and reel, a pair of waders and a few flies. One of my oldest fishing buddies, Ed, was here visiting from back home. We were going to drive to the Sandy River about 10 miles away and fish for a few hours. I was nervous and excited. I was fairly certain we wouldn’t catch anything, but just being out on the water was going to be enough.

Driving down the road, I saw a small flock of turkeys, and a flock of geese- another sign autumn is here. I came down the hill and was passing the fire station when I noticed that my Saab with 210,000 miles on it wasn’t really accelerating. I pulled into the library and called AAA. My fishing trip was over before we even got to the water.

Lucas Rumler

About Lucas Rumler

I’m originally from the land of Soybeans and Corn- growing up the tallest thing in our town was the grain elevator. I moved to Maine in 2008 as part of Americorps. I fell in love with the state, and then the Saint who would eventually become my wife (much to her dismay on most days). We settled in her hometown- Mount Vernon which had been our plan since we started dating. We are active and involved in our community, we homestead, and we both work full time. We are trying to balance the stresses of living and working in this state while at the same time trying to strengthen our little corner of the world. My ambitions for our homestead do not necessarily line up with my competency, capacity, or free time. I am an apple nerd with no knowledge, a beekeeper who keeps hope alive- but maybe not my bees, a gardener who is trying desperately to figure out a niche market for the only things I can successfully grow (ragweed and crabgrass), and a backyard carpenter who has never made a straight cut or a level table- and doesn’t see any real reason to start now. I hope that this blog can help document my continuing failures and occasional successes as we continue to build our lives in our Village. I am active and involved in our local community, and I have been recently nominated by the Cat as the best male blogger. You can contact me at lucasrumler@gmail.com, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/undertheredastrachan/, or by mail at 46 Weston Road, Mount Vernon, ME 04352.