Casting Quiet Waters by Jake MacDonald

Author:Jake MacDonald
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sports & Recreation / Nature
ISBN: 9781771640251
Publisher: Greystone Books
Published: 2014-09-11T00:00:00+00:00

Fish out of Water

* * *

DAVID CARPENTER

A version of this essay was previously published in Numéro Cinq.

ONE JUNE MORNING in 1968, while wrestling with a stump, my father had a heart attack. He was sixty-two. My mother packed him into the car and drove him to the hospital. That night she phoned and told me to meet her at the cardiac ward the next morning. I saw her standing just outside his room. She had spotted me coming down the corridor, and when we made eye contact, she shook her head. No, she seemed to say, he might not make it.

Dr. Flanagan had a different take on Dad’s condition.

“Your father is very lucky we got to him when we did.” A moment later he added, “But yes, your father is a very sick man.” I tried to put this very bad, good news together: a not-yet-fatal massive heart attack. The next week would be crucial in determining his chances for recovery. Dad wanted to talk but could scarcely whisper. I knelt down to hear him.

“It’s amazing,” he said, “in here, how they fix you up.”

We visited with Dad and consulted with his team, and I wrote to my brother not to worry; there was nothing he could do but wait for further developments.

The doctors claimed that Dad was stable, and he did seem to be rallying in small ways. After a few days of guarded hopes and worried looks, my mum said, “You may as well go fishing with your friends. Not much is going to happen this weekend.”

THERE IS A cabin belonging to the Anderson family that sits on the shores of Lake Edith, which in turn lies almost in the shadow of Pyramid Mountain in the heart of Jasper National Park. At one end of the lake, a small feeder stream winds through the gloom of a forest of ferns, thick bush, muskeg, and Douglas fir. It bubbles up from beneath the massive roots of an old fir and murmurs its way over the gravel and into Lake Edith. The lake is shaped like a pair of sunglasses, seen front-on, and it would have been two small lakes but for the presence of a shallow channel connecting the bodies of water. The water is absolutely clear. From the shallows to the depths, this lake covers the spectrum from pale green to near purple. The rainbows that spawn in the tiny stream and in the spring-fed beds of gravel out on the lake are pampered by a sumptuous array of nymphs, bugs, and minnows. The rainbows of Lake Edith, when I was a young fly-fishing fool, grew bigger and fatter than any other trout in the park. Right at sundown the big ones would cruise the shallows for emerging insects a few yards from shore. The water is so clear and placid in the evening that you could see them coming a block away.

MY FATHER WAS a practical man and a family man. He never crossed the line on such things as drunkenness, womanizing, gambling, or anything of an addictive nature.

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