I fished for the first time in my life six years ago, which may seem strange since I was born on an island (Manhattan) and grew up on another island (Long). But my father wasn’t a sportsman and he never ate fish in his life, so I suppose that’s why I never got to hold a rod and turn a reel as a lad. And being a city kid, I have always had a healthy fear of nature — even though we have no wolves, bears or soaring bald eagles on Long Island. In NYC, they’re all locked safely behind bars in zoos, which is fine by me. I find nature to be very unnatural.
But the guys who plan this trip to the wilds of Northern Ontario each year are great friends and they convinced me I’d have the time of my life if I went along, so I gulped, packed a bag, borrowed a rod and reel, and then did my best to stand in a rocking boat for three days. It rained, of course. Sideways.