Fishing amid pandemic; the frustration and the fun
Who would have imagined it six months ago? After a decades-long slide in fishing license sales, the Pennsylvania Fish and Boat Commission reports that license sales this year are up by 21%. People appear to be adapting to pandemic confinement by going fishing.
Waiting to buy my hunting license at a large retail store earlier this month, it wasn’t a line that caused the wait. I’d gone early enough to beat the rush. The delay was due to the attendantĢƵ frantic efforts by phone to locate fishing tackle for re-sale. After his call, the clerk told me suppliers had little tackle left, and retail outlets were taking anything they could get, then selling out fast.
Fishing seems an ideal option in these times. It doesn’t need to be expensive, ample public places to fish dot the region, and it can be done–in fact, itĢƵ usually done–a safe distance away from other people.
I encountered the living incarnation of this new fishing surge last week, just hours after I’d read about the spike in license sales.
Acme Dam is a small but attractive lake on the mountaintop near Donegal. ItĢƵ within Chestnut Ridge County Park, part of the appealing and well-run Westmoreland County Parks system. I’ve caught some nice bass there but had poor luck one evening last week. Paddling the kayak up to the launch ramp to leave, it was a little difficult to wend my way around the line and bobber cast by a young woman and her daughter–age 6 or 7–who were fishing from atop the sloped concrete slab. No matter, the kayak is agile and light, so I tucked it into shoreline weeds and pulled it up onto the grass.
Organizing my gear for departure, it was impossible to avoid overhearing the pairĢƵ sometimes frustrated conversation.
“I think this is how you do it,” the woman said as she mis-timed the release of the spincast reelĢƵ thumb-button and slammed the bobber and bait down into muddy shallows.
They finally got a cast out a little farther, then wondered aloud how they would know they had a bite.
“Bluegills is what ________ said we might catch here,” the woman continued. “I wonder why they call them bluegills.”
“Because their fins are blue,” answered the girl.
They needed help, and the compulsion to go over and provide it was almost too strong to subdue. No other companions were apparent. For all I could see, they were on their own trying to fish. I could have shown them how to time the cast and would have suggested they fish farther along the shoreline where the water was deeper and clear, where some weedy cover might conceal bluegills. I could have amended their choice of hook-size and sinker to better fit their sunfish quarry, and I’d have been happy to explain that the bluegill is named for the deep-blue flap at the tip of the gill-plate.
But I hadn’t anticipated close contact fishing in my kayak, so I hadn’t taken my mask. And they weren’t masked either. It was impossible to predict how they’d react to my near approach. Then, thereĢƵ that older fear. How would they interpret the innocent but impromptu advance of a male stranger, there on a sparsely peopled shoreline as evening came on? ItĢƵ the kind of concern we wonder about in the times we live in.
Probably nine out of 10 times in that situation I would have helped them, but I didn’t. I heaved the boat into the pickup bed and drove off, giving them credit for trying but second-guessing my avoiding their plight.
Ironically, though the pandemic provides the motivation to fish, it also deprives beginners of some options to learn. The same Westmoreland County Parks and Recreation Dept. offers several free fishing clinics at its parks every summer. But it cancelled this yearĢƵ events.
The Pennsylvania Fish and Boat Commission has continued to offer its popular “Introduction to Fishing” programs at some state parks, though with reduced capacity and health protocols in place. These events require no fishing license, and all tackle is supplied. Surprisingly, though, none are scheduled for western Pennsylvania–all are in central and eastern counties. If you’re a beginning angler, watch the Fish and Boat Commission website as next summer approaches. Hopefully, disease concerns will have lessened and some clinics will be offered in western counties.
I also had the pleasure of witnessing the opposite extreme on the angling-skill spectrum last week. Riding a bike along the Great Allegheny Passage between Confluence and Ohiopyle, I noticed two well-equipped anglers wading in the river below the trail. As I passed, one called out to his friend to bring the net, he’d hooked a big one.
I could hear their excited exchange plainly from the bike-path, and the fight went on for maybe 15 minutes. I heard the hooked-up angler say he was using a 3-weight rod and a 5X tippet, lightweight gear for a fish like that in strong current.
Finally, the companion slipped the net under the tiring fish and lifted a glistening 5-pound rainbow trout from the river. The pair shared an exaggerated “high-five,” took the obligatory photos, then released the huge trout back into the river.
Don’t give up, thereĢƵ a lifetime of fishing satisfaction out there.
Ben Moyer is a member of the Pennsylvania Outdoor Writers Association and the Outdoor Writers Association of America.