Hello! This post involves the use of a nasty DRUG called marijuana. If you find this topic offensive or if it makes you uncomfortable, I recommend you don’t read ahead.
Additionally, it should be mentioned that all use of the DEVIL’S LETTUCE occurred in legal locations, and all users were over the age of 21. Never, ever, ever have I partaken in the use of such scandalous products as a minor.
Hot on the heels of gamblers and Bigfoot enthusiasts, anglers may be some of the most superstitious people on the planet. We’ve got lucky fishing hats, funny routines, and strict rules about what can and cannot be on the boat. We hold on to these superstitions because, deep down, they mean something to us—even if they are completely absurd.
In my case, I carry a lucky fishing hook from when I was a kid. I don’t have the slightest clue when I acquired this thing, but it’s been around for well over a decade. Alongside that lucky fishing hook, there’s another superstition I firmly believe in: the fish whistle. Urban Dictionary actually does a pretty good job of capturing what makes a fish whistle… a fish whistle.
The superstition behind this special whistle is the most magical part. Sure, there’s no science behind it—but I’m convinced that after a little doobie, I’m roughly 4.20 times more likely to catch a fish... and at least 10 times more likely not to care if I go home empty-handed.
The fish whistle serves many functions, but most importantly, it is a powerful connection between man and fish. Man, absolutely unable to communicate with fish, feels a need to use some external mechanism to gain their attention. At some point in history, marijuana became that mechanism. You could say a cold beer or a pull from a whiskey bottle would also accomplish the goal, but I think reefer is most effective.
While I do believe in the fish whistle, I frequently wonder if it accomplishes its goal. This leads me to ask, “What is the goal?” Is the goal to catch a fish? To take home dinner? To have a good time? To laugh with our fishing buddies? I’d say it’s all of the above. At the end of the day, fishing—much like your mother-in-law during the holidays—is completely unpredictable. Sure, smoking a joint might not have any direct correlation to more fish being caught, but a stoned fisherman may stay on the water a little longer, wander around the next bend, or strike up a conversation with a stranger who recommends a different lure. All of these things can lead to catching more fish, but only the fish gods know if the fish whistle is to thank.
About a year ago, I was living out of my Toyota Tacoma, chasing fish and blowing fish whistles across the entire Pacific Northwest. I stopped in Eugene, Oregon, to see if it was a town I might want to call home. Upon arrival, I saw the weed man, visited a couple of thrift stores, and chatted up the local fly shop. The resident trout bums recommended I check out the McKenzie River. I fished it, and didn’t catch a damn thing. I was frustrated and couldn't wait to leave town the next day. I found a campsite on the side of the river and parked my house for the evening.
After camp was made, I shook hands with the devil’s lettuce. As the smoke rolled over me, I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I got the fly rod out and headed back to the river. I was determined not to get skunked1. I fished my way down the river until I saw a boat ramp. For some reason, maybe the fish whistle, I broke a cardinal rule and fished the boat ramp2. While I was fishing, a boat arrived. I chirped over to the guy on the oars and asked if he had caught anything. He said they’d been “crushing ‘em,” music to my ears…
We got to talking and by the end of our conversation, he had invited me to fish with him the next day. He’d recently started a guide business and needed all the experience he could get—even the free ones for fish bums with a home on wheels. Don’t worry, I paid him in fish whistles and bourbon.
Our spontaneous fishing adventure the next day deserves its own post, but we fished and had an absolute blast. It felt like two long-lost fishing buddies finally reunited. Years later, we still stay in touch. All thanks to the fish whistle.
So, in that case, the fish whistle did not immediately lead to catching a fish, but by some magical combination of coincidence and serendipity, I did meet a new friend. I did float the McKenzie River, and the next day, we caught a shitload of fish. So I guess the fish whistle worked great!
“Skunked” means to not catch any fish during an outing.
Boat ramps often have really nice-looking water, but they get a lot of pressure, so it's not usually worth fishing.
As always, a well written and fun account of your life.