By Mike Huber
Having grown up in Maine, I used to love fishing. I lived just off the Kennebec River, so it was only a short walk through some pines to Maine’s largest river where I had miles of it to myself. After leaving Maine for the Army, my fishing fell by the wayside. Until recently, that is.
Last month in Sedona I met a friend of a friend and invited him to go camping with us along a lake in southern Arizona. Even though he was from the east coast he brought his fishing gear and purchased a 1-day license. One of his objectives is to fish in every state in the USA, a pretty formidable goal in my opinion. Almost as soon as I processed his story it hit me: Why am I not fishing as I camp throughout the United States on my BMW GS1200? The next day I made a trip to Walmart (which I rarely do) and bought a $10 collapsible fishing rod (one that fits in my BMW’s panniers), swivels, and a few lures (including a red and white Daredevil). The Daredevil always worked for me as a kid.
Due to an unusually wet winter in Arizona, the lakes are above their normal capacity. This made the Daredevil more of a hindrance as it kept getting caught on the weeds just under water. After losing four lures I blasted to a local supply store and picked up a couple of spinners that would stay on top of the water and prevent (or at least minimize) my losses. I was now four deep in lost lures and was starting to feel like I do during my golf game in terms of losing balls in the water hazards. Maybe having a new angle with this top floating lure would renew my confidence and allow me to catch something (or at least not lose another $5 lure).
As sunset approached, I thought it was about time for a beer. A nice cold IPA would surely ease the frustration of losing lures earlier in the evening. Well, the IPA must have drawn the fish because within 15 minutes I caught a solid 18-inch striped bass. With this being the first fish I caught in several decades I wanted to tell you about what a fight it put up and all the time and effort it took to land this beast, but I won’t embellish my fish story. The scene did, however, turn comical as another fishing boat approached. They had been out all day and they had only caught one fish. When they asked how long mine took, I picked up my half-empty IPA and said, “almost one beer. We all laughed. Beer usually isn’t a time metric.
After cleaning the fish I realized that catching a fish wasn’t really part of my plan. I was just passing the time. I now had to come up with a way to cook this monster. Luckily, I was in a campground and earlier in the day had chatted up the hosts. It turned out they were from Maine, not too far from where I grew up. They happily let me borrow some aluminum foil. I figured this would be all I would need to cook over the grill. Pouring the remainder of my beer into the foil and over the fish made for great flavoring. Once having the fish “properly seasoned” I threw it on the grill for about 5 minutes per side, removed it from the fire, and enjoyed it along with a pack of spicey Shin Ramen. This was the perfect meal to enjoy while sitting around a glowing campfire and taking in the sun’s final rays over the Four Peaks Mountains.
The past two weekends I have returned to moto camp and fish with similar results. This summer I will travel the west coast and spend time motorcycling, camping, and fishing as I meander up to British Columbia. This renewed hobby will greatly compliment my finely honed skills of laying in my hammock, messing around with the campfire, and drinking cold beer in each region I travel though. There are few activities that can get your adrenaline rushing in an instant; the jolt from a fish on the line is one. I look forward to that rush as frequently as possible in my future travels.