“I look to the sea…”
Dateline: Cayuga Lake
“The tides are in our veins.”
~Robinson Jeffers
The first drop of water I ever had in life was, New York Blue.
New York Blue, sustained me.
I was born between two inland seas, the Great Lakes of Ontario and Erie, tied in a bow by the Upper and Lower Niagara River.
My entire childhood was nourished by the freshwater, the sweet water of New York State.
New York Blue.
Every drop of water that has ever been on this planet, ever drop, is still here. You need proof of miracles, dip your toe in a lake, a river, a stream, an ocean.
The water that swirls around your feet swirled around the feet of your parents, your grandparents, your great grand parents, swirled around the feet of the ancient Greeks and swirled through ancient Rome.
And yes, there is water still here today that cleansed the feet of, Jesus.
Without this blue, there would be no you.
“…reflections in the waves…”
I have but two safe places on this earth, the arms of my wife and children, the shores of New York Blue.
In its waves I see my grandfather fishing off a concrete pier at the foot of Niagara Street in Buffalo, NY.
In its waves I see my red Schwinn bicycle parked in the sands of Grand Island and hear the laughs of teens of summer.
In its waves float the ashes of my father.
And one day, I too hope to spend eternity surfing, New York Blue.
In my state here we have over 52,000 mils of rivers and streams, that folks means our New York Blue would stretch around the Earth…TWICE.
We have almost 8,000 lakes, ponds and reservoirs, 2 million acres of freshwater wetlands, all in all over 22 BILLION gallons of New York Blue within the state that is home to 165 different freshwater fish species.
Every year the state releases a MILLION pounds of fish into all this New York Blue.
Hey dudes, we ain’t just Manhattan or the Bronx.
I have watched the sunrise kiss the Statute of Liberty, watched the sunset turn on the bright lights of Niagara Falls, all in the same day.
Between Brooklyn and Buffalo there is a state that you would know no matter what state you live in now.
I’ve got nothing against the big cities within the state but I’ll tell you something that may surprise the bejesus out of you, 80% of New York State is…RURAL, and only 8% of New Yorkers live in it.
Surprised huh.
“…spark my memory…”
“When you leave a beautiful place, you carry it with you wherever you go.”
~Alexandra Stoddard
I’m told by natives here in the Finger Lakes that there are actually 11 fingers of lakes, I’m not sure how true that is but I saw a drawing of all those lakes on a Tee-shirt, so it must be fact.
All my life there has been one word that populates my dreams, that drives my soul, that has defines my lifelong goal: Waterfront.
And on it I sit this week here at Cayuga Lake, I write this in front of a picture window that frames the lake, my memory of this shindig will always be colored, be filled with, New York Blue.
I am a man in a constant state of flux, inside, a constant state of go, inside, and yet when I look out this simple picture window, sit on the simple gray painted wood deck, I get lost in the blue.
Become, calm.
Become, relaxed.
And for some strange reason, become, safe.
I really don’t believe in past lives, don’t think I’m a recyclable species, no Déjà vu here, except, except when I stand, except when I’m near a large body of water, then, then deep inside of me I feel at home, feel I know the waves, feel I know the wind that moves the waves, feel the blue waits for me.
And I think many of you get that same feeling.
I get that, know that of me, I may not be hooked on fishing, but there is nothing on this planet that I have more respect for, more kin with, than water.
Than New York Blue.
‘…some happy, some sad…”
“If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water.”
~Loren Eiseley
I have spent now over a decade writing about inside the outside and I believe I owe you an explanation of why, why I stuck, why I stayed, why I even care that there is an outside out there.
I lived a fine life not knowing you outdoor folks, no offense.
I live a better life having met you.
You, brought me back to blue and out of a mainly “off-white” neutral colors life.
Know this, the first outdoor story I ever wrote was about the Lower Niagara River, New York Blue.
Know this, the first Bass tournament fishing story I ever wrote was on Lake Champlain, New York Blue.
To believe those were just weird coincidences is akin to thinking “reality” tv shows are actually, reality.
I may not fish as much as you but trust me on this I will defend your right to fish, I will defend the water you fish on, I will defend New York Blue and all the blue on this planet for as long as I’m on the planet.
I frankly don’t care if you have my back, but I owe it to you to have yours, and I do.
And I owe it to, New York Blue.
“…I think of childhood friends…”
I too remember the 1st fish I ever caught, it was a perch, or trout, or maybe a Bass, whatever it was it was small and just as surprised to be looking at me as I was to be looking at it.
It was a warm July day, Beaver Island State Park, Grand Island, New York, in New York Blue.
Me and Dave Muscarella told our parents we were going to go play wall ball (involves a tennis ball, a baseball bat and chalk to draw a square batter’s box on a brick wall) when in fact we were going to ride our bikes over the Grand Island bridge and go fishing.
Not one of our parents fished, both dads had played wall ball as kids though. It was Muscarella’s and mine go to lie.
Musky, had the fishing poles, I had the worms, 4 in my back pocket. Only two lasted the trip to meet the fish. My first worm ended up in a tree. Musky got half of it back.
We sat on a log and talked of all the things we had done with and knew about girls…which was nothing. Neither of us had been kissed yet by anyone not related, both admitted though to “practice” smooching the bathroom mirror.
We drank “pop,” ate a foot long Char-broiled “Ted’s” hot dog with everything including sand, and every once in awhile remembered to…fish.
Musky, once bought an “Outdoor Life” magazine, this purchase made him the “Woodsman” of the block, he told me he read a story, “about a trout,” which also made him the fishing guide of the block, he also was the only one who had a fishing pole, line, a bobber and a hook.
Growing up he was the only “outdoors” guy any of us on the block knew. Oh, and he had a pocket knife, that we thought was cool.
I remember that day in July like it was yesterday, I have long lost touch with Musky, but several years back I ran into a mutual friend of ours from childhood and asked him, “What ever happened to Musky…” to which he replied, “I don’t know, last I heard he had joined the Navy.”
To which I just smiled, I guess my soul wasn’t surprised, New York Blue had got to Musky too.
“…and the dreams we had…”
“There is indeed, perhaps, no better way to hold communion with the sea than sitting in the sun on the veranda of a fishermen’s cafe.”
~Joseph W. Beach
It is with my family that I sit today with and watch New York Blue and the Elites on it drive by.
Brent Ehrler fished the dock of the house we rented, former Elite angler, Kevin Short and his wife Kerry came by to watch the sun set on Cayuga Lake, dozens of Elites drove by all week.
I sat as a fan.
A fan of New York Blue and those competing on it.
I understand this game better than most, I know the wraps of the boats and the anglers inside the wraps, most are friends, all I care about.
So you know, I pull for them all, I know how tough it is out here for them and their families, I want them, almost try and will them, to be successful and that isn’t my job, I’m not supposed to care, in fact in truth “the agony of defeat,” gets just as many hits, if not more, than “the thrill of victory.”
But here, here on New York Blue, here lies my soul.
I’m fully aware of the controversy involving tournament fishing on the same water as regular arse fishing and I’ve pretty much stayed out of it, but know this of my heart:
No one owns the water, in fact, the water owns us.
Error always on the side of kindness, politeness and sportsmanship.
And as the sign in my daughters nursery school said, “We share, and no biting,” pretty much sums up life up.
Share it, and stop biting each other.
“…we lived happily forever…”
“When you put your hand in a flowing stream, you touch the last that has gone before and the first of what is still to come.”
Leonardo da Vinci
If I can ask anything of you, let me ask this, come see and fish New York Blue, come see the New York not lit up, see the New York Rip Van Winkle, let the water of centuries old glacier lakes run through your fingers, stand on the shores of lakes so big you can see them from space.
This week I got to sit on the shore of New York Blue surrounded by my immediately family, my wife Barb and both children, Ashley and Jimmy came with me to this event. It was the first time we have all been together on a “mini” vacation in over a decade, I got to know my adult children more, they got to know me some, saw I hope my love of New York Blue.
And so it was standing on a dock on Cayuga Lake, standing out there all alone on the waters of New York Blue where I began, where all of my outdoor writing stuff began, where peace comes to me, where the water protects me, cradles me that I knew, made the decision on New York Blue, to retire.
On January 1 of 2018, god willing, I will retire to the shores of somewhere New York Blue, I will have spent a decade with BASS at that point, the best decade of my career, but the peace, the serenity of New York Blue beckons, wants me back.
The first drop of water I ever had in life was, New York Blue.
I now know, it will also be my last.
And that, is how it should be.
Meant to be.
“…so the story goes.”
Come Sail Away
Styx
db
“A lake is the landscape’s most beautiful and expressive feature. It is earth’s eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature.”
~Henry David Thoreau