Living Spirit Exhibition - Art Gallery of Algoma

George comes North 2014 Dads smiling!

Father travels 600 miles to show how to fish em'

The heading in the local newspaper read: "Father travels 600 miles to show son how to catch Steelhead"

It still makes me smile.

It was early spring and the snow was finally melting, bringing on the start of a long awaited steely run. I had been frequenting a nice hole which gave up a few beauties every year. It was early yet but I had the itch. If you are a true fisherman you know the spring fever that courses through your viens when you smell the onset of spring and fish heading up the stream to meet you.

I had been investigating the prospects knowing that my father would be arriving and I would be obliged to get him on some hot steelhead action.

After a few weeks of no show from the fish, my father arrived. I explained how the weather had changed and the cold had delayed the arrival of our quarry. Having covered all the possible explanations before heading to the honey hole the stage had been set for our fruitless return. As I had made that shameful return for the last few weeks.

The snow was still crisp from the morning air and a fine mist hung over the stream. I could feel the optomism growing in both of us. We slowly approached the stream side carefull not to break thru the crust of snow making that loud crunch and send shock waves through the shallows to announce our arrival. I cautioned my father that the fish in this small stream tended to be skitterish as the water was clear and fast. A hasty approach could foil our efforts of ambushing these silver jewels.

I motioned my father to the top of the hole and gave a brief description of the topography and underwater haunts that may hold fish "as if I knew any more about reading water than the Master himself". Satisfied that I had fulfilled my duties as a gracious son giving up the virgin waters to my father( the visitor from so far away), I headed slowly downstream, scanning the crystal clear waters for the shadow of fish holding where they should be. As I came to my access point to the stream, I caught out of the corner of my eye, the delicate delivery of my fathers first cast into the top of the hole. A sight to behold on a brisk morning stream. Before I could even prepare for my first cast and only seconds from his cast hitting the water and drifting into the hole, the calm in front of my father errupted with all the fury of a spring steelhead caught by supprise. I smiled.

When we got home with this magnificent specimen and he so proudly proclaimed that he had to travel 600 miles to show me how to catch steelhead I knew then that the game was afoot.

In loving memory of my fishing buddy. Thank you, for the many years teaching me to fish and the many years allowing me to outfish you! (o;

George Robert William Raven 1942-1999

Fishing at its finest

This is my first son, who is a fierce fisherman. His name is Dakota and is relentless when he is on fish. This is one of our favourite secret holes which produces many different species during the changing seasons. Enjoy the serenity of that sacred fishing hole.