Most of us have seen the bumper sticker that says, “A bad day fishing beats a good day at work.” This is undeniably true – most of the time. A sunny day in God’s great outdoors always beats a day working at some horrible job you dislike.
But anyone who spends much time outdoors has had some miserable days afield, days when it rained a deluge all day, days when they were wet, shivering, lost, tired, hungry, and thirsty. Usually on these days the fish don’t bite or the birds don’t fly. Days like this simply make us appreciate the good days we have a whole lot more, so they don’t qualify as bad days.
What then, qualifies as a “bad day” outdoors? Let me share a few examples.
Tommy Locke told me of a fly fisherman who had graced the bow of Tommy’s flats skiff while casting to tarpon, wearing nothing more than a Speedo for protection. Tommy spotted a fish and pointed it out to the gentleman. In the process of getting his cast going, the unfortunate man sank a 3/0 tarpon fly to the feathers right between his family jewels. A loud “Unh!” was all he said, as he turned around to share his problem. Tommy looked him over and paused a moment, then said, “Sorry buddy, I can’t help you take that one out.” Their fishing was over, ended by a trip to the emergency room. It’s painful just to think about. That fellow had a Bad Day.
I once read a tale about a very unlucky steelhead fisherman. This poor soul was fly fishing in a canyon when he had what, at first, he thought was a bite. He quickly realized the heavy weight at the end of his line, although moving, was not a fish. He managed to swing whatever it was near to the bank down below him, then walked down to see what it was.
To his enormous shock and dismay, it was a young woman, quite dead. His fly was hooked on a finger of her glove. Our angler was suddenly having a Very Bad Day. His fishing ended with him being, for a while, the prime suspect in a murder investigation. He didn’t do it. I am so glad the only dead things I ever caught were spawned-out salmon.
On an otherwise lovely day, a former local guide went to grab a tarpon at boatside. The fish chose that moment to jump one more time, breaking the guide’s nose. The fish also, at the same time, managed to bury the hook in his neck, necessitating a trip to the hospital. This was a Bad Day.
One of the worst bad days I’ve heard of was of a man who was fishing (not fly fishing) with friends about 15 miles out of Port Canaveral, when he caught the largest king mackerel anyone on the boat had ever seen.
Naturally, he held it up for a photo, by the tail. He was not wearing shoes. Can you see what’s coming?
The fish wiggled and he dropped forty-plus pounds containing a mouth of razor-sharp teeth onto his foot. There was a lot of blood. His friends wanted to get him to a doctor, but fishing was good and he insisted he was fine. He wasn’t.
He lost so much blood he began to get dizzy. They high-tailed it back to the Port. If you ever do something like this, try to do it during normal business hours, not late on a Friday afternoon. Just finding someone to treat this particular injury turned into a nightmare that ended up costing him three separate surgeries and six months out of work.
Fishermen have accidents sometimes. They get stung by catfish, stingrays, and jellyfish. Their boats sink. They get hooked. They get bitten. They get struck by lightning. So any day that you get home safely, without a trip to the hospital or police station or worse, is not a bad day, regardless of how few fish were caught or how miserable the weather was. Those skunky days just make you appreciate the good ones you will have! The scales tend to balance.
Count your blessings, and remember, life is great!
