I’m in a dilemma.
Mostly I have made my decision but I’m not very happy with myself about it. I feel like I’m letting myself down but I’m also pretty sure I’m making the best decision.
My Sweet and I are on our annual fishing trip to the West Coast. He has been here every year for the past dozen or so years. I started joining him about six years ago. We are in a fairly remote campground just outside of Bamfield, British Columbia. You’ll have to look it up on a map but it is near Port Alberni. Access is by active logging roads that are some of the worst roads I’ve ever been on. Scratch that. They ARE the worst roads I’ve ever been on.
The gravel road – and I use that term lightly because the rocks are massive – is only about 70km long. That 70km took us about two and a half hours to drive. It was slow going and because we came in on a Sunday morning, there weren’t any of the massive (and fast moving) Island logging trucks to contend with. It is the only way to get here, so I put my head down into a book and read to avoid having to watch the road. My Sweet, God bless him, drives slowly and watchfully, keeping an eye out for dust rising in the distance, indicating an oncoming vehicle of unknown size.
Coming here and fishing on the ocean has been a challenge for me. I’m afraid of water and the ocean is a far cry from the lakes of northern BC that we normally spend our time on. Even the lakes have taken time to get used to, so our time in our boat on the ocean has occasionally severely tested the limits of my comfort zone.
We almost always stay inside the Sound and have only rarely ventured to the outer limits and the islands at the boundary where the Sound opens onto the wide Pacific Ocean. We have experienced some terrifyingly rough seas and I will confess to spending a fair amount of time engaging in self-talk to get me through those times.
“It’s ok. You’re not going to die. It’s just water. You’ve been out here before and survived. You have your life jacket on. It’s alright. You’ll be going in soon. It’s ok.” And the conversation in my head goes on and on in the same tone I use when confronted by an aggressive animal – soothing, slow, and hopefully, reassuring.
This year, we have a very nice couple and their two friends staying in the site beside us. We have truly enjoyed getting to know them. They have a beautiful boat and considerable experience fishing in an area we have never been to – offshore.
For those brave enough, experienced enough, or well-equipped enough, you can travel offshore and fish for halibut, ling cod, and the biggest Spring salmon are usually found offshore as well. The banks which are commonly fished are known as 5 Mile, 7 Mile, and 12 Mile because that’s exactly how far offshore they are. We don’t go because, well, it’s offshore! At 5 and 7 Mile you can still see land on the horizon. At 12 Mile you can no longer see land in any direction. Gulp!
The kind folks next door have offered to have us follow them out to 12 Mile and teach us the ropes of offshore fishing. They are all the things you need to be to fish out there: brave enough, experienced enough, and well-equipped enough.
And therein lies my dilemma.
I keep saying that I try not to let my fear keep me from trying something I want to do. And I want to catch halibut and ling cod.
Last night when he came over to make us the offer, I listened from inside the camper while he and My Sweet talked. Every cell in every fiber of my entire being clenched at the thought of not being able to see land.
I am already hyper alert to every reef and rock. I keep my eyes peeled for other boats that encroach on our space and this year, there are plenty of those. Already this trip I have spent enough hours on the water that when I close my eyes the whole world continues to sway in the gentle oceanic movement of the waves. *Helpful tip: don’t close your eyes in the shower. You will find yourself tipped into the corner. When I drift off to sleep, I wake suddenly, almost violently, with the single thought of turning away from the rocks because in my dreams we are too close and are in danger of wrecking. Barely awake, I reassure myself that I am in my bed in the camper and not on the water but no sooner do I fall asleep than I startle myself awake again certain we are in mortal danger.
My anxiety level is a little high to say the least but I manage it because I love salmon fishing and I love to be in the boat with My Sweet.
But I don’t think I can go offshore. I want so badly to try, to test that next boundary line of my comfort zone but I am also quite certain that we will get to the mouth of the Sound and my anxiety will ramp up beyond what I can manage. I am unwilling to ruin the experience for My Sweet, who while also nervous still really wants to go fishing for halibut.
So I have decided to stay behind.
Why do I feel like there is something wrong with me? I try very hard not to let fear rule my life anymore. I try to stretch myself to experience new things and test the boundaries of my comfort zone. I don’t want to coast through life in my safe, cozy, comfortable little rut.
Does that mean that I shouldn’t still have limitations? Does that mean that I should be able to do whatever I want?
I’m not happy with having to face the fact that my fear is still alive and well and lurking around the outskirts of my consciousness. But it is.
This year, I’m giving offshore fishing a pass. I really do think it’s best for everyone involved, especially myself. Besides, there’s always next year and in the meantime I’m going to keep working on a few other things in my life that scare me in other, less life-threatening ways.
*Note: All this anguished decision making turned out to be for nothing. The water was too rough to venture offshore. Even our experienced friends turned back when they tried to go out. There were, at a rough count, over 100 boats fishing in the inlet the next morning. That was our first clue that we had made a good decision to spend the day thinking about whether or not offshore fishing was something we wanted to try. C’est la vie…perhaps next time…
