Fishing Alone with Li Po

Even though I don't have any interesting fishing news or stories, I'm feeling pressured to put pen to paper just so that I don't forget how to do it. My "idea" for this entry was to riff on a fishing anecdote I had heard somewhere about Chuang Tzu, or Li Po, or some famous Chinese Taoist -- I can't remember exactly what name was associated with the story. My previous employer Google, usually so helpful with such things, hasn't turned up a clear reference to the story. For example, this search result just ain't the one . . . the story I'm thinking of was basically this:

Chuang Tzu/Li Po/Eric the Blogger was commonly observed fishing in the river near the village, but nobody ever saw him catch anything. One day, a villager stopped to ask him, "what are you using for bait?" The unsuccessful fisherman smiled broadly and lifted a bare hook out of the water to show the villager.

We could spin up plenty of interpretive thinking about this story, and if you would like to offer your thoughts as blog comments, please do. Personally, I have a mental block which prevents me from thinking anything other than, "why didn't the guy try digging in the riverbank for some worms?"

However, I will note that my recent efforts at striper fishing would have been equally successful if I had been trolling a spent ballpen instead of an x-rap plug. I've been getting nothing. I have gone out several afternoons/evenings, and every time I seem to have brought serious wind with me. I launch in a breeze, and five minutes later it ramps up to a gale. In a way this is fine, since I like very much to make sure I can handle windy conditions and wind waves as a matter of practicing for future situations that might arise in wilderness kayaking. But by now I'm tired of it. Paddling against wind is more of a strength workout than an endurance one, and I'm more in need of the latter. So, when I saw another small craft advisory posted for 1:00 p. m. onward for today, I decided to pass on the Li Po trolling.

If I really want to catch a striper (and there's some ambivalence about whether I really want fish, or good kayak workouts), what I need to do is pretty obvious: start getting up in the morning, and get on the water before the local winds get to cruising speed. Easily said, harder for me to do. I tend to stay up late, lazing around watching taped soccer matches and drinking beer and wine. This past weekend at a friend's three-day wedding party took the drinking factor to a new level. So I have more or less decided to bribe myself, and not have a single beer or glass of wine until I catch a fish. I suppose this could be a shad or a striper or a trout, but it has to be hooked and fought and brought to hand to really count.

Oddly, the most interesting result to arise from my fishing-anecdote searching ends up being a Li Po poem:

DRINKING ALONE WITH THE MOON

From a pot of wine among the flowers
I drank alone. There was no one with me --
Till, raising my cup, I asked the bright moon
To bring me my shadow and make us three.
Alas, the moon was unable to drink
And my shadow tagged me vacantly;
But still for a while I had these friends
To cheer me through the end of spring....
I sang. The moon encouraged me.
I danced. My shadow tumbled after.
As long as I knew, we were boon companions.
And then I was drunk, and we lost one another.
...Shall goodwill ever be secure?
I watch the long road of the River of Stars.

In a funny way, this lovely little allegory of the moon and shadow remind me very much of the thoughts and sensations that I enjoy -- that I seek, really -- when I go on my solo fishing trips. Did I run across this poem portentously? Is it telling me that indeed, I should get drunk less and fish more? I think I will interpret it in just that way until I can bring home a few sacs of shad roe, which go oh so well with a crisp lager or a light citrusy Belgian-style white . . . .