The joy of having no expectations
By Dave Bates
For the Observer-Reporter
Have you ever noticed that the more you expect something to be a certain way the more disappointing the outcome? If a hunt is overplanned then certain expectations just naturally accompany that hunt. Frustration sets in when that magic buck fails to materialize at twilight. Birds escape into cover without offering a clean shot and it seems as though we are hideously unprepared for the flush. Fish don’t bite even though the fishing has been awesome in the weeks leading up to our trip.
It occurred to me the other morning, as I looked over at my big brother reeling in another rather nice smallmouth shortly after sunrise, that the reason our trip had turned out so wildly successful was that we really didn’t expect anything. We drove across Pennsylvania with relatively few expectations. Sure, we planned to go fishing, but we trekked across the state without any real plan of how things might unfold. Our guide was basically an unknown quantity, although he seemed like a nice enough young fellow.
Neither Glenn nor I have much of a fishing pedigree, our background with boats is nil. We possessed no real idea of where we were going, what we were doing, nor the skills to accomplish anything in particular. We were operating on blind faith … devoutly trusting in the fact that we were headed into the outdoors to have fun and enjoy each other’s company, eat a few suppers out and take in the sights that Mother Nature had to offer.
To say that we were wildly successful would be putting it mildly. Having no predisposed sense of what should come next, we just waited for the next cool thing to unfold. A bald eagle soared just over our heads and lighted in a tree. A simple enough pleasure for those not blessed with frequent eagle sightings. A blue heron stared us down from only a few yards, content to let the intruders drift by without taking flight. A massive snapping turtle fell off a log and cannonballed into the river. None of which could be expected. We just let the events happen, one by one, and appreciated the experience for what it was.
Our first day was a nice surprise, one of the best days of fishing either of us has ever had, but we didn’t expect it. We certainly were appreciative of it. Many fish in a relatively brief span of morning. The second day started out slowly. Not many fish for the first hour or two. Just when we began to think that it was too good to be true, we motored up to a warm spot where a power plant discharges its warm water run off. The temperature of the air was cool at 65 degrees. At the output, the water temperature was much warmer. We caught fish on every other cast for an hour. Like a fish-catching switch being thrown, we were in angler heaven for 60 precious minutes. Once again, no expectations present. It was over as quickly as it began. We sat gaping at one another, smiles across our faces like Mom had caught us with our hands in her cookie jar, grateful to the nth degree.
I’m an old fan of the saying, “You won’t know if you don’t go!” What if we hadn’t ventured out that morning? What if we missed that glorious opportunity to be out in it? How much more empty would our palette be?
Back at the hotel that afternoon, we didn’t say a word. Blinds shut, lights out, two-hour nap. Not a planned nap but rather one of those naps you steal away unexpectedly which makes it that much more satisfying. Arising for dinner with a powerful appetite, a great steak tasted that much better that evening. We talked about Dad and what he might have thought of his sons wasting such time and expense on such frivolous matters. Dad was a member of the Greatest Generation, seldom having time to fritter away. Money was always an issue and he and Mom sacrificed so that we could have the things we needed. It would have been nice to have him join us for that third cup of coffee.
On the way home, I spotted an old-fashioned soda fountain looming on the horizon. I didn’t expect it to appear the way it did, it just sort of happened. But you can be sure that I turned on my signal and pulled into the parking lot. Glenn didn’t complain. No expectations. The ice cream sundae was pretty good. The coffee was even better.
Dave Bates writes a weekly outdoors column for the Observer-Reporter. He can be reached at alphaomegashootingsolutions@gmail.