I spent a few weeks in July and August travelling in the United States.
This was pure self-indulgence: exploiting turning 40 to do things that no sane family members would accompany me in. So my mate Al and I drove a big chunk of Route 66, visited several US Presidential Libraries and took some bad iPhone pictures of buildings, streets and statues that had some personal, geeky musical interest.
The trip started though in upstate New York with my wife and daughter, staying with relatives (the Kobzas) who represent the very best of US hospitality. After just three days in their company – at their house near Wallkill and a holiday cabin on Wolf Lake – I left half a stone heavier, with a blood make-up of 35% maple syrup/65% Yuengling Beer.
I also, for the first time in my life, went fishing. I loved it.
The setting helped: a tranquil lake, baking sunshine, a few cold beers. And catching something (a pretty small perch I think, proudly displayed below) was a primal thrill.
But just being rewarded for being patient is a useful lesson on holiday. There was no other skill needed, which I suppose makes fishing a sport for all. As keen fisherman President Herbert Hoover once put it, “All men are equal before fish.“
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