Déjà vu

I tried to recreate something: the meeting of two things which had no business meeting. If I came to the same place at the same time maybe it would happen again. Maybe my universe would disappear and become hers. Maybe I would look up and see the ocean and see the person who knew exactly what I wanted, and feel that - - timelessness again, that - - sense of senseless purpose. It was easy enough the first time. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'd been working in Bancroft on a sunny day about a year ago. Working doesn't really describe the - - I was dealing with. On the way home I saw a boat launch sign and I followed it blindly. You know that story already. I'd never caught a bigger largemouth in my life. All of the frustration I'd been feeling at the time disappeared in an instant and I drove home as quickly as I could (I even stopped at the LCBO in Haliburton to pick up a few beers for myself and the girl who said she loved me). But Brittney was mad at me when I got there and I knew then that it was hopeless and that she didn't love me anymore. I still tried. No matter how tired I was, I still tried. 

I went back to the same lake this year to beat my personal best. I was going to fish there for two days straight and I was going to catch big largemouth after big largemouth. The weather was perfect. But the fishing wasn't so easy this time around. I fished and paddled for more than six hours straight until I couldn't fish or paddle anymore. There were several "last" casts just as there were when I was young fishing with my dad and grandfather. But they didn't help. There would be no giants. The kids playing on the beach eventually went home and it became quiet. 

I slept in my car that night. I didn't drink but I probably should have: it would've made things easier. The sky was cloudy and the stars were dull and I couldn't find a comfortable position to sleep. It was just like that night we fought in Canmore. I wanted to dream happy dreams; I wanted to dream of a place where she loved me and showed me respect and smiled when I came into a room; I wanted to dream of a place where I felt safe and wasn't the object of abuse and neglect and blame and negativity and manipulation. I didn't want much. I wanted to dream of a place where she was happy. Instead I dreamt of people trying to break into my car and cheaters - - sloppily on the beach. 

When I woke up at 5AM the next morning I decided to drive 55 kilometers southwest to another lake I'd heard of recently. - doing the same thing over and over. I didn't know if there were any boat launches or places to park there but I took a chance. I ended up launching at the side of the road and paddled through stumps and lily pads until I found deeper water. There were nice weedlines everywhere: a place tailor-made for largemouth. I grabbed my flippin' stick and went to work. Before long I felt a few taps and that weight you want to feel. Nothing feels big on a heavy rod and fifty pound braid but she was a good fish. 

It only took a few turns of the reel to get her in my net. And boy, was she beautiful. She was aggressive and strong and she felt good in my hands. But she wasn't what I was after. I threw her back and kept looking...

Greg Cholkan is a lawyer, fisherman and Hemingway impersonator. He works in Muskoka with Barriston LLP and his practice focuses on real estate, wills and estates, and business matters. Follow him on Instagram and Twitter.

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