July 25, 2014 at 2:50 p.m.
Big boat, little boat: Measuring your outdoor pursuits
Big boat, little boat: Measuring your outdoor pursuits
More often, the "haves" can afford the best equipment for various outdoor pursuits.
I've never been really poor, but I've never lived with much disposable income either.
I've never taken a Canadian fishing trip or hunted out west. In fact, during the years when doe tags were abundant, I often took full advantage so we had a good supply of red meat in the freezer.
Let's not forget why people hunt in the first place. Good ol' meat.
Got a trophy elk out west? Nice. Got a cinnamon color phase black bear in Canada? Kudos. There's a Montana mulie in your freezer? Awesome. Fed your family for the winter on local game? My hat is off to you. There is nothing in the consumptive outdoors pursuits to be more proud of.
Of course, fishing used to be primarily for gathering food as well. But now anglers race around lakes in massive boats equipped with fish-finding electronics, stereos, soft seats, live wells and casting decks. Much goes into fooling a fish, and staying comfortable while doing so, but that fish is then just released.
I'm OK with that. Fishing is popular and if everybody kept everything they caught, we wouldn't have much of a fishery. I just wonder what our grandfathers or greatgrandfathers would think.
They probably floated their favorite lake in a wooden row boat, sans all the bells and whistles of modern boats, and filled a stringer with fish for the fry pan. They might not even recognize a modern fishing boat for what it is -- an extension of the angler's ego. Plus they're nice for catching fish.
Sometimes big, expensive boats are a breeding ground for a supercilious attitude.
I've actually taken special delight in dragging a 12-foot aluminum boat out of the back of my pickup and loading all its essentials while quiet snorts of derision fill the pompous air around a boat landing. The snorts are pretty quiet because I'm 6 feet 3 inches tall.
A look toward any snorters usually results in a quick aversion to eye contact on the part of the snorter (he heard that!).
"Nice boat," I'll sometimes say. "Bet that sucker cost more than my house."
I'll not lie and pretend I don't admire the fine crafts that those with means crease the water with. And, admittedly, the boat landing scenario is an exaggeration. Such behavior is rare. Most outdoors-minded people are actually quite nice.
At the risk of sounding supercilious myself, I admit that I actually own two boats. And that doesn't include a leaky pram that's been stowed below a beaver dam on private land for roughly 16 years.
The porous tub is on my wife Cheryl's favorite duck pond, but she hasn't been able to hunt ducks for years.
Anybody want to buy it? For a mere $100, the pram could be yours. Once the money is in hand, I'll even draw you a map that shows how to get to it.
The other two boats in my current arsenal are the 12-foot aluminum boat and a 9-foot Bantam Bass Tracker.
The Bass Tracker is a handy little boat for a single angler, or even two, provided at least one of them is quite small in stature.
The boat is basically a big cork, and rides waves about as smoothly as you'd expect a rubber duckie to. But it gets no snorts of derision.
The Bantam has actually received praise from other anglers who watch me unload it and attach a trolling motor.
"That's nifty rig," or the like, is the common reaction.
It's nifty until the trolling motor quits mid-lake. A paddle is the backup, and it is painstaking to move the little craft, which is essentially a rectangle, with the paddle.
At such times, I bemoan the decision to sell my 17-foot canoe. Comparing the canoe's maneuverability with a paddle as its power source to the Bantam's is like comparing Barry Sanders' ability to maneuver around would-be tacklers to, well, mine.
The Bantam has served me well over the years, though, and is probably the best $75 I ever spent.
I shy away from waters with heavy boat traffic when using the Bantam. After about the sixth wake that seems like it's going to flip the craft, my repeated prayers start to sound disingenuous.
I'd shake a fist at the offending craft's captain, but my hands are usually too busy trying to press finger holes into the Bantam's gunwales at that moment. And it doesn't seem proper to direct a curse at someone mid-prayer.
The 12-footer fell somewhat out of use because Cheryl was small enough to ride the Bantam with me, and she much preferred its square bow to the "big" boat's tapered one. More leg room, and also more room to keep her stacks of fishing paraphernalia nearby.
Sometimes we'd plan to fish on a lake with relatively high boat traffic. At those times I insisted on the not-so-big "big" boat.
Often, the trolling motor proved adequate, but I do have a small Evinrude outboard that pushes the boat along at a decent clip. Almost like a real, modern fishing rig, though it lacks expensive electronics and the live well is a five-gallon bucket.
The stereo is a small AM/FM radio which is along whenever the Brewers are on the air.
I once even toted a portable TV to watch a preseason Packers game while out on the water. How many boats have a TV? Not very many, I'm guessing.
While I might like a nice fishing boat, I can say that the two I do own don't require a trailer. That's nice, because trailer lights never work properly and I hate fixing stuff.
Maybe some day you'll see me skimming across a lake in a boat that gets me to a favorite spot 10 times as fast as my 12-footer and little Evinrude and which, upon arrival, tells me the water temp, the depth, and whether or not any fish are down there.
But for now, my neck is going to remain at least a moderate shade of red.
Yee-haw! Let's go catch some fish!
Craig Turk may be reached at [email protected].
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