Master and Apprentice
Master versus Apprentice. It’s an archetype that spans literature, film and popular culture. From Darth Vader and Obi Wan Kenobi to Splinter and Shredder to U2 and Coldplay, all who teach are eventually pitted against their pupils. Recently, I faced such a circumstance with my long-time friend Josh.
Master (left) and Apprentice (right)
Josh, though he doesn’t look the part, is an avid angler and learned a large majority of the sport from myself during our many aquatic excursions throughout Illinois. Normally, he consults me on what lure to use and then applies the knowledge with remarkable deft.
However, 20 minutes into the first day on the water during our trip to Duck Lake, of Wisconsin’s Eagle River Chain, Josh challenged my alpha status.
“This lure’s gonna kick your ass,” Josh said smugly as he removed his new Rapala Flat Rap from it’s packaging. “Just watch.”
I ignored Josh’s remark; he always said crap like that when he was feeling even remotely confident in a fishing decision he’d made. And since we were on a lake we had never fished before, I figured I’d remain quiet and let him have his moment.
That mentality lasted for all of five seconds.
In an act of silent rebellion, I began moving the boat into a position that made it tough for him to work the downed-timber along the shoreline.
Just as my diabolic plot to skunk Josh’s infallible lure was unfolding, I caught him setting the hook out of the corner of my eye.
“Muskie!” yelled Josh.
“Bastard,” I thought, and reluctantly grabbed the net.
As Josh brought the fish to the boat, I netted the normally elusive predator and stared at its gold and opaque-blue hue. This was a gorgeous animal, not that large, but still gorgeous.
“Ha,” Josh said, breaking my trance. “First cast. Right out of the package!”
Cole and Jake, who comprised the other half of our fishing fellowship, laughed at the audacity of the situation. This only intensified Josh’s smugness. He was ripe to tear me a new one if I didn’t do something quick.
(Luckily, I subscribe to the master/apprentice archetype, and like all good teachers, I don’t show my students everything I know)
I reached into my tackle box and pulled out my ace-in-the hole, my force-lightning if you will…The Lucky Craft pointer, the Ferrari of jerkbaits
“Josh, you defeated me, and I became more powerful than you could ever imagine,” I felt like saying, as I tied the lure on.
“Watch this,” I retorted instead, and casted the jerkbait, admiring its action as it irradically made its way through the water.
However, as the lure got closer to the boat, my heart sank. Nothing trailed my bait. And as I lifted the immaculate lure out of the water…A MUSKIE NAILED IT.
I WAS AMAZED AT THE STRIKE….and at the fact that I had missed the fish. Josh laughed, secure in his victory.
This scene would become familiar throughout our 3-day excursion in the Northwoods, although the actors would rotate between Josh, Cole, Jake and myself. 14 musky were caught between the 4 of us (8 for me, 5 for Josh), all while fishing for walleye, smallmouth and largemouth. They hit on plastics, jerkbaits, jigs and crankbaits. For 72 hours we were spoiled, and it was bliss.
Josh nows kicks my ass on a regular basis
Though I eventually won the war, Josh won that battle and it stills stings. However, I take solace in knowing that his passion for fishing is blossoming and hopefully he will pass it on to others, just as I passed it on to him. Because really, this relationship is all fishermen have to retain our sport. Lakes are shrinking, suburbs are growing and the aura of the outdoors is fading.
So teach your friends and family to fish, just don’t teach them everything. And Josh, I bought one of those Flat Raps and can’t catch shit on the stupid thing.