The Well-trodden Path

The amazing thing about the well-trodden path is that no matter how many times one follows it there is always something new to discover.

At the cottage this summer, I was reminiscing with my brother about a recent fishing trip. We had traveled to Gander, Newfoundland and then flown by float plane from there to a lodge on Banting Lake.

Banting Lake is named in tribute to Sir Frederick Banting. It was there in 1941 that he perished in a plane crash. He is known as the Nobel Prize winning discoverer of Insulin.

As remarkable as this discovery was, Frederick Banting went on to do something even more remarkable still. He did not seek to profit from this life saving discovery. Instead of applying for a patent, he transferred his rights to the University of Toronto. The price? One dollar. This act of selfless nobility is what made it possible for the millions suffering from diabetes to have affordable access to his health restoring serum.

Back from my digression. I was talking about the well-trodden path. The guides at Banting Lake Lodge were perfect specimens of the amazingly capable and resourceful men life in Newfoundland demands.

While trudging along a barely discernible path, an act of gritty endurance on my part but what my guide described as,

”a quick skip up the river”

I pointed out to him a dense patch of Round Leaf Sundew.

The Round Leaf Sundew is a tiny plant that grows in the nutrient starved barrens throughout the Maritimes.

It only grows 3 or 4 centimeters tall and has several round leaves of a soft green colour, each covered with many bright red hairs.

Every hair is tipped with the tiniest drop of sweet, sticky liquid.

An insect unfortunate enough to try for a sip of this deadly nectar finds itself trapped and slowly digested by the enzyme rich liquid as the hairs slowly enwrap its body.

My guide stopped to look at the miniature plantation. He pretended interest in deference to my need to take a breather.

When I pointed out the remains of a small insect wrapped in the hairs of one leaf, his interest was suddenly real. Captured by a plant that eats bugs.

Even though he knew the woods and waters of this country as well as or better than most, he was seeing something new and enjoying it as much as I was to be learning the broader strokes of the landscape unfolding before me.

And that is the amazing thing about the well-trodden path.

A few more reasons to love Newfoundland

Baby Moose 12 Hours Old - Born in the middle of downtown Flatrock, NF.

Where else on earth could this email and these pictures come from without CNN having a news crew on site?

My Dad sent this to me. It’s a note from some of his friends.

“In my whole life in Flatrock, I have never seen a new born baby moose. This one was not even a half a mile from my house. The mother picked a small quiet neighborhood in Flatrock and had her baby in the front yard just off Deer Marsh Road, at 5:30 am. Debbie and I (Jim) were out bike riding when we came upon the pair. The lady across the street from this house told us she saw it being born. We saw them at 5:30 PM. So the little one was 12 hours old. What an awesome place we live in, to see such a site.”

Fishing dry flies for salmon in Newfoundland.

Just got home from Newfoundland. What a great trip! It is not all about the fishing, although that was pretty good; it is more about the camaraderie, meeting new people and renewing old friendships. I love hearing the old stories retold with all of the same enthusiasm as if the events had happened that afternoon instead of many years ago. Its great to rehash the theories of why a salmon even takes a fly or how best to play them. My brother offered a thought on why salmon don't feed when they come into a river to spawn. He thinks its nature's way of preventing cannibalism. There are lots of parr in the rivers when the salmon are running. If it were actively feeding, a grilse or salmon would do considerable damage to the next generation. An interesting thought. Now, as to why they take a fly....
The flies that were hottest for me were a brown bug during the day cast upstream and fished dead drift. In the evening, a small black bear-green butt fished by the patent method. By small I mean a number 12 or 10. It always amazed me as the light was fading to get a strike on that small a fly. What incredible eyesight or other senses those fish have.
Fishing dry flies for salmon is about as much fun as I've ever had fishing. The rises are spectacular and the take when it comes is stunning. Its like it all happens in slow motion. Most people are so amazed the first few times they see a big salmon rising under their fly that they end up pulling it away from the fish in anticipation of the strike. Having raised a fish but not hooked it a kind of buck fever sets in. It takes the conscious exercise of self discipline to make a good cast to the same spot and wait for what seems like an eternity as you see the fish coming slowly up, mouth agape, to engulf your fly. What a wonderful experience. I released most of the fish, some intentionally, but kept a couple to use for a traditional planked salmon dinner later this summer. Hopefully the same people who were with me in Newfoundland will be able to attend so I can relive once more a great fishing trip.

"This planet is covered with sordid men who demand that he who spends time fishing shall show returns in fish."~Leonidas Hubbard, Jr.