Outdoor Families: "The Fish Prayer"

As a practising Christian family we taught our children to pray. Recently at a family dinner my daughters recited the bedtime prayer from their childhood. Basically a poetic, "God bless Mommy and Daddy, Nicolette, Erin and Timothy; Grandma and Grampa Smith; Grandma and Grampa Palermo" and on through the entire family. Every time a new cousin was born, another name was added to the list. Including the family dog.

So when it came to fishing, prayer was also included in the "tackle box".

We have never been hard-core about ice-fishing, but nevertheless we would take our kids on weekend outings to Whitefish Lake. Usually in March when the fish were biting and the temperatures were not so nasty.

On one memorable occasion we drove our Chev Caprice out to Whitefish Lake and attempted to drive through some fresh powdery snow once we got to the parking area. Our Caprice was useless in the snow. In fact I joked that the darn thing could get stuck on a banana peel. Needless to say we got stuck at Whitefish Lake. But with Mom at the wheel and "mighty" Dad pushing we were able to get unstuck.

We walked out onto the ice pulling a sled with our auger, lines and lunch and found a suitable spot.

The kids loved the experience of running and playing in the snow-covered ice. Somehow fascinated that they were actually walking on a lake.

I was eventually able to punch enough holes through the ice with our auger to set our lines. (In today's parlance our auger would be known as "eco-friendly" as it ran on arm-power not gasoline!)

The kids watched the lines faithfully throughout the early afternoon with no takers.

Late in the day we noticed little Timothy (perhaps 5 years old) squatting near one of the lines through the ice. "I said a fish-prayer." Announced Timothy. Gently jigging the monofilament line.

Antonietta and I smiled from ear to ear at our little boy's plea for divine intervention.

Low and behold, not twenty minutes later did we have a nice walleye flopping on the ice and our three children jumping for joy.

"See. My fish-prayer worked!" Said Timothy. Who quickly said a prayer for an additional fish.

And low and behold we went home with about four nice walleye that evening.

I never said anything about the tendency for Whitefish Lake's walleye to bite at dusk; but instead I silently acknowledged to myself that regardless, God had provided fish, and planted a seed of faith in a little boy that day.

Living the Dream

My dream home is a place on the highway between Thunder Bay and the US border-crossing at Grand Portage, Minnesota. It is a moderate looking house with a detached garage, but its surroundings are spectacular. It's a house on a hill surrounded by a sparsely brushed meadow with a creek that circles the place like a moat. There is a bridge over the creek part way up the long winding driveway. The backdrop for the home is a rugged cliff on the Norwester mountains.

I think about that place every time I drive by and envy the lucky stiff who bought it. I imagine myself living there - or somewhere like it - sipping on hot black coffee before a day of hunting or dipping a line in the small creek. I don't know if there are trout in that creek but for the sake of my imagination there are. Not enormous trout, but small, chunky, feisty brookies that eagerly take a well-placed fly. One that doesn't hang-up in the trees, that is.

I would convert the garage into a carpentry shop (if it isn't already) and spend some of my time building cabinets and such.

Yesterday when I drove by there I imagined all these things; and had to correct my steering to prevent my pickup from veering into the ditch.

And then it dawned on me...

I have a house with a detached garage converted into a carpentry shop. No I can't shoot deer off my deck, but I can go deer hunting whenever I want. (Actually I could as there are deer tracks in the lane every morning; but I'd end up in jail and loose all my rifles for a lifetime!)

Come to think of it, shooting a deer off your deck doesn't make for a great story.  I have a friend who did just that and bagged a record whitetail 100 yards from his back door while it chomped on some corn at the feeder. I'm not suggesting I wouldn't have done the same thing. A big buck with a trophy rack isn't easy to come by regardless of the circumstances. But even when my friend tells his story it sounds rather apologetic.

But I digress. I live in an urban neigbourhood in Thunder Bay. It is a fair size city of 110-thousand or so. For Northern Ontario that's a metropolis. Realistically, it's an "island in a stream" - as Uncle Ernie (Hemingway) might say. Drive a half-hour in any direction and you are in God's country. There, in the woods, bears outnumber people - and know it (obnoxious bastards).

I shot my first moose 50 kilometers from where I now live. It had a 53-inch rack. I've driven an hour or so on a paved highway and caught brook trout the size of a snowmobile boot. That's right, a brook trout that would feed a family of eight, and eat a foot-long sub sandwich.

When I'm not hunting or fishing I work in my carpentry shop and get all covered in sawdust. It makes me feel good about myself - that I actually work for a living - and connects me with my roots of swinging a hammer with caloused hands. "Men from Earth" was the name of an album put out by the Ozark Mountain Daredevils back in the day when I drove nails for a living. The cover of the album is an old photo of men, mules and dirt. I like that image.

Every now and then I have to write something that pays money so I can continue doing what I love. Sometimes I write reviews on outdoor goodies like guns and such. I have a habit of beating myself up a bit for writing about such shallow, material things. But then I catch myself and realize that everyone has to pay the bills somehow.

At present I have a cup of jet-black-rocket-fuel in my coffee cup. It's starting to taste a little bitter, which means I've had enough and it's time to head into the shop and make some sawdust.

Or shall I go snowshoeing? Or wolf hunting?

Hmmm. I'm living the dream after all.

Winter Blues

As much as I love all of the seasons, winter is the one that drains me most. It's too dang long! Yesterday was one of those dark, cloudy days where the sun never seems to light things properly. It's like working under an oil lamp in a dim room. Our winter here in Northern Ontario has been mild with not much snow. When this happens the streets are bordered with grey banks of frozen dirt. It melts enough in the day to create frozen pools overnight.

I've been reluctant to get outside in this gloom but it only makes matters worse. I'm behind in my yard work - that is picking up the "land-mines" that my two springer spaniels leave in the snow. A couple of days ago I could have harvested them like grapes, but now a few centimetres of snowfall have effectively covered up my "unfinished business". Now they'll be waiting for me in a month or so and it will be a bumper crop by then... Talk about a "dirty secret".

Having gotten that off my chest, it is clear that I need to get outside. I'll grab the snowshoes and the dogs and wander off into the "un-sunset". It will be rejuvinating. Despite the aforementioned gloom. There is lots to soak in. Snow hangs on the evergreens and if I'm lucky they'll be some hoer frost on the bare hardwood branches that makes them look like etched glass. Every now and then you can get a spectacular picture if the lighting is right. It's quiet, cool but not cold, and you can really unwrap your inner thoughts.

For the winter blues, getting outdoors is just the ticket.

Outdoor Parents: Creating Family Culture

Here's some math for you: Two people get married and become one. Somehow in that oneness they eventually become three (I'll leave that multiplication process for "health class"). Now when those two people became one, they brought two family cultures together. Then there is a process of converting those two different cultures into one new culture. That process takes a while, but eventually it irons out (but not always).

If those two people that become one have a love for the outdoors that definitely becomes a part of the new family culture - and that is a good thing.

From the beginning our family of one loved the outdoors. Trips to Dryden area lakes fishing from a boat and through the ice. In fact our honeymoon took place at Peck's Evergreen Lodge on Eagle Lake. (I'm such a romantic!) We fished for walleye every day and cooked them up in our little cabin where we got to play house for the very first time.

One hot, sticky July evening we got caught in a thunderstorm and almost became one of those tragic honeymoon-couple statistics. But God must have had plans for us because we rode the wind, waves and rain in our little fishing boat back to safety.

About 19-months later along came an addition to our family. A little fisher-girl. When she was old enough to walk our family of 3.5 went on a "short hike" to a river where we could fish from shore. Antonietta (7-months pregnant) carried the cooler, held Nicolette's hand, and tiny Erin in her tummy; although once Nicolette got to ride on Antonietta's shoulders the baby (and cooler) didn't feel so tiny anymore. I carried the fishing gear (what a nice guy) and kept an eye on our dog, Czar - a great dane/labrador cross. 

I think we harvested a paltry catch of two walleye that day - and as an added bonus, our dog Czar rolled in something dead and rotting. As he weighed upwards of 100-pounds that was a lot of stink. We also had a brand-new Ford Bronco, and the thought of putting old Czar in that fresh-smelling new vehicle was appalling. But somehow we managed to get back to our home in Thunder Bay holding our noses the entire way. 

I believe this trip was the beginning of our outdoor family culture. One of challenges, laughs, and even disappointments - but always memorable.  

Let the games begin! 

Hawaii: Outdoor Families

There is something very special about enjoying the outdoors as a family. It enriches life, strengthens bonds and heals troubled hearts. Our family has always enjoyed time in the outdoors together. It has become part of our family culture. We don't always choose an activity that is particularly wild and exciting; but whatever we do, we do as a family and have lots of laughs. Goofiness is encouraged; pouting is impossible.

On our recent vacation to Hawaii we snorkelled in the Pacific, walked on the beach, and watched whales every day. We explored the island of Kona by "chopper, running shoe and automobile". We went on a 3-hour helicopter tour, swam with the turtles, and went para-saling. Timothy even went surfing with some Hawaiian surfer dudes! While in Maui we went on a 2-hour whale-watching boat tour. It was amazing!

We hiked to a small waterfall and swam in the pool beneath. We even took a quick shower in the falls before we hiked back to our rental van.

For the next few posts I'm going to explore what it means to be a member of an outdoor family. Until then "Aloha" and "Mahalo" (thank you) for reading!

Hawaii: Turtle Spotting

One of the outdoor skill sets I have developed over the years is the ability to spot wildlife. If your pastimes include the act of pursuing game, this ability becomes innate.

While vacationing in Hawaii we saw lots of green sea turtles. It amazed me how they could blend with their surroundings - almost becoming invisible. The photo above was taken at a beach in Maui where Antonietta and I sat on a rock to have our lunch. Naturally with scenery like this we were captivated by the waves crashing in on the sand. But as I watched I soon detected shapes on the bottom moving. Initially they appeared to be rocks, but as time passed a few of these seemed to shuffle with the waves. Rocks don't do that - especially ones the size of a coffee table. As this was our 15th day in Hawaii, I knew these were turtles, and eventually spotted these moving "rocks" coming up for a breath of air in the surf and then disappear to the bottom again. Turns out there was about a half-dozen turtles in front of us feeding on the bottom.

What was interesting is that all kinds of people walked past this spot oblivious to the turtles. We noticed this whenever we went to the beach in Hawaii. Inevitably there would be either turtles bobbing in the waves near shore, or hump-back whales breaching 300-yards out, and dozens of people would just walk on by.

On a few occasions I pointed out the turtles or whales to beach-goers. One was a couple with two young children sitting beside us on the beach. I figured they might like to see a large turtle to show their youngsters. After all the kids were jumping around in the waves 20-feet from one. So I kindly mentioned to the parents that there was a large turtle right in front of them in the surf. They put down their books, pivoted slightly forward in their chairs and began scanning the water. After about 5 minutes the turtle failed to materialize so they nestled back into their recliners and resumed reading. A few minutes later this large turtle - who I playfully named "Norton" - popped his head up and took two gulps of breath. He bobbed around on the surface for a bit so I said to the couple, "Look! There he is!" And pointed towards the turtle. But before they could spot him he silently sank to the bottom.

Then it dawned on me, "Norton is a Ninja Turtle!" "Damn he's good."

Can you spot any Hawaiian wildlife in this next photo?

Hawaii: Off in a Herd of Turtles!

Contrary to popular belief, green sea turtles are swift, ferocious and formidable animals on land. Here I am ready to sprint away from these turtles that have lined up on the shores of the Black Sand Beach in Kona. I am risking my life as these reptilians will snap your leg off with one chomp. They can get up on their flippers and run almost as fast as a gazelle. That's why the sign warns visitors (what Hawaiians call "mainlanders") to stay 15-feet away - and not to "ride" the turtles (especially if you're a woman).

Hawaiians traditionally use spears and black sand turtle dogs, like this snarly guy, to hunt down, and protect their families from herds of marauding turtles.

(The dog in the photo was devoured by the turtles shortly after this photo was taken!)

If you believe what I've just written (Mom and Dad) I have a large "Mallard Duck Sanctuary" to sell you in Northern Ontario (also known as "swamp").

To the contrary green sea turtles are so slow on land you almost need time-lapse photography to track their movements. They're not much faster when they come ashore either.  They bob in the water like logs and paddle a little farther towards shore with each wave. Once their bellies are on the sand or rocks they drag themselves ever so slowly onto the beach with each surge of surf until they are completely out of water. Much like many of the large, well-fed "mainlanders" that I encountered along the Black Sand Beach.

Here is my friend, Curt (Curtle-the-Turtle) from Oregon.  You can see that he's getting a little aggressive because I've moved within 15-feet.

But later when he fell asleep, I snuck up and made a funny face on his belly with some black sand...

Because of their slow moving, docile nature, green sea turtles (and also Curt) are vulnerable on - or near - the shoreline. They can swim very swiftly when alarmed, but when they're bobbing around in the shallows they are at the mercy of every human - which can be a precarious existence. That's why signs are posted and resident Hawaiians volunteer to police the humans at popular beaches.

First Blog, Dog!

Today marks the first blog on Outdoors Wisdom.  I hope readers will benefit from what I write.  I reposted this picture as it is one of the best of me that I have.  My son Timothy took the photo in Maui, HI.  (That's Hawaii for those who haven't seen the state acronym.)  Timothy is an amazing photographer.  Much more artistic than me.  (If you're interested in knowing more about him check out his blog "I Am A Priest" www.iamapriest.blogspot.com.)

Of course my blog will focus on the outdoors but will include a lot of topics associated to it.  Like my column in the Outdoors Guide (published by the Chronicle Journal newspaper, Thunder Bay, Ontario) it will be humourous, insightful and thought-provoking.

I am starting this blog after much encouragement from many of my readers, and especially my son, Timothy.

You'll note that I keep repeating the phrase "my son".  This is not an example of poor writing, this is on purpose.  Tim is the kind of guy that I am proud to say is "my son".

So far I have avoided Facebook and other social medias because I think too much is written about peoples' personal lives, whereabouts, and day-to-day activities.  Some of it is pure drivel.  I don't want to slide into that realm.

So to stay on point, I have just returned from a vacation in Hawaii.  We spent one week on the island of Kona (known as The Big Island of Hawaii), and one week on the island of Maui.  What an experience!  I spent the majority of my outdoor time snorkelling in the warm Pacific waters looking at fish and sea turtles.

I saw my first green sea turtle at a beach in Kona that is known as a snorkelling hotspot.  I went there alone one morning and did my first dive.  I saw hundreds of colourful fish on the coral reef and saw my first sea turtle paddling around in the shallows with a number of bathers.  There are signs there that warn people not to touch them and even folks that volunteer to keep an eye on the turtles and intervene if people get too close. The turtles don't help matters much.  They are totally comfortable with humans and only swim off if you grab onto them.  Otherwise they paddle about without regard to human activity.  Actually I think they feel safe with humans.

I also saw humpback whales breaching in the ocean as I sat on the beach.  I noticed that the lifeguards were pointing out towards the ocean.  After I heard one of them say "whale" I began scouring the distant waters until I saw a splash.  It was at least 5 miles out - maybe 10.  I kept my eye on that spot and then a whale jumped out of the water exposing his entire body except his tail.  I say "his" because I later learned that it is the males that breach, both to attract and show off to females, and to intimidate and spar with other males.  Us male mammals are pretty much all on the same dance card when girls are involved.

Later in the afternoon I returned to that beach with my wife, Antonietta.  We made another dive - this time at low tide.  We spotted our first sea turtle underwater.  A small juvenile with a shell about 16-inches long.  What an exciting find!  To see these peaceful creatures underwater is an amazing thing.  We watched that little fellow/gal (not up on what turtle plumbing looks like) for ten minutes or so.  Then we swam a little loop into a hollow between two formations of coral where some grass was growing on the sandy bottom.  There we saw a larger turtle feeding on the grass.  As we floated quietly on the surface we were amazed to see the aforementioned little turtle swim over to the bigger fellow (as we'll call it), gracefully circle around him and touch noses.  The little turtle was spunkier than the larger, and it seemed to pay its respects but touch his/her nose as if to say, "Want to play?" It reminded us of our two springer spaniels.  Cypress, our baby, is a little black and white four-year-old that is constantly playing and teasing our older, Maggie, who is eight.  Both are females but they get along famously.

The little turtle eventually swam on.  We continued to watch the larger turtle graze on the bottom. We watched in amazement as this turtle grazed for at least 25-minutes at which time it slowly rose to the surface and took two separate and deliberate gulps of air - without making any noise or splash - and then return to the bottom.

That day was the beginning of our two-week romance with green sea turtles and hump-back whales.