The coolness with which I lunged for the fish, missed, gathered myself, swept the rod back, lunged again and netted the steelhead was inspiring. I was pleased with my patience and execution. I was as in control as a steelheader can be in those sometimes chaotic moments of landing a fish.
I backed away from the shelf, leaning over to keep the basket of the net submerged and the fish wet. I knelt, removed the hook and released the fish.
By my standards it was masterful. There is someone out there who would have landed all three fish I hooked and would have brought a few stubborn ones to hand that I couldn’t get to bite. But I didn’t worry about the expert angler out there. I worried about myself.
Up around the corner at another fishy spot, I laid out a perfect cast that landed my fly next to a log. The fish hit right as the fly began to swing then popped off after a short, hectic fight. I was connected long enough to see it was a solid, bright fish.
I didn’t know what I did wrong, but a master would. An expert would have finished the job and not been left with the lingering incompleteness of that story. Exactly how long was the fish? What shade was the blush? Was it chrome bright or had it developed a dimmer hue like a fish that had been in a system for a bit.
I returned home content and happy after hooking six and landing three steelhead. Batting .500 is unheard of, hitting 50% of three-pointers is legendary. But too much is put into the gap between where you are, and where you want to be, especially as an angler.
A person on Substack posted he was upset with how “mid” his writing skills were despite following the rules in writing courses. I thought first about the term “mid,” a word that is used in a manner that dictionaries have yet to catch up to. This is no surprise since language evolves at the speed of intellectual creativity and social media stupidity. Not that “mid” is intellectual or stupid. It just is.
Anyway, to have mid-level skills is to be average, but that doesn’t mean it is deficient or boring.
The NBA regular season is intolerable because the experts play with low-level enthusiasm when they aren’t sitting out for “load management.” The best baseball players in the world stop playing if it’s raining to protect their multimillion dollar hamstrings. I’m glad our utility workers aren’t that high maintenance.
The most insufferable outdoor TV shows and YouTube channels feature people managing their ego. The show is not about reverence, habitat conservation or genuine excitement. Some shows are whack ‘em and stack ‘em, fist-pumping, celebratory productions about the host and the host’s ego. They are experts, but lack the genuine joy and enthusiasm that makes the pursuit worth it to begin with. Expertise should not be the finish line if it comes at the expense of happiness or undermines satisfaction.
I am mid across the board. My podcast used to be called the Mediocre Alaskan which was the idea that to be good at anything, there are times of frustration, anger and failure. The times of learning. Then once you have learned enough, you then realize you have gained a false summit. Mid is a reality, a place in time, and not always an insult.
I am not an expert steelheader, but I netted those steelhead like a pro and replay the image of then slowly dissolving back into the water almost daily.
I had fun. That’s the point.
• Jeff Lund is a freelance writer based in Ketchikan. His book, “A Miserable Paradise: Life in Southeast Alaska,” is available in local bookstores and at Amazon.com. “I Went to the Woods” appears twice per month in the Sports & Outdoors section of the Juneau Empire.