Generally clear. Low near 50F. Winds ENE at 5 to 10 mph..

Generally clear. Low near 50F. Winds ENE at 5 to 10 mph.

Instead of roaming the lake searching for fish, this summer I did my angling close to home

Instead of roaming the lake searching for fish, this summer I did my angling close to home

With no options for watercraft other than canoes, when the grandkids want to fish, we head for our neighbor’s docks and tt works well.

Baiting, unhooking fish, unsnarling line messes and sometimes helping them cast, being altogether on the same dock, I am never more than a few steps away from the action. And I was the only one who never dropped a line off a dock. Until last month. But after a date with a heart surgeon, I was told to do nothing that involved putting strain on my chest wound. That meant no paddling. And since my canoe was my fishing boat, if I was going to fish, it would have to be from a dock.

As a little kid with no access to watercraft, I did much of my fishing off wooden platforms. Walking out on the dock last month, rod in hand, I realized I had come full circle.

I knew where the fish were. The grandkids had already caught and released most of the resident piscatorial population.

Settling into a deck chair, I threaded a worm on the hook, pulled the bobber into place, and cast to the edge of the lily pads. The bobber bounced once, and disappeared from sight. A sharp hook set and seconds later, I swung a fat sunfish onto the dock. For the next hour I could hardly keep up with the action. When I left, I had caught and released a dozen fat bluegills and sunfish — a pretty good catch considering I was just steps away from my home. Yet what I wanted most to do was get out and do some fishing from a canoe.

“Don’t lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk,” I was told.

To the doctors that meant a taboo on paddling.

I begged to differ and took a carbon fiber paddle to my next meeting with my doctor. I pointed out that a 12-ounce carbon fiber paddle was significantly easier to use than a 2½-pound wood or plastic paddle.

Straddling a bench, I showed them that proper technique involved using the upper back rather than pulling on the chest and abs when you drew the paddle through the water.

I must have been convincing because they gave me an OK to take out a canoe.

There were some limitations to my paddle trips, though.

Since the canoe weighed more than a gallon of milk, I had to rely on Cyndy for the launching of the boat. And the 10-pound anchor stayed on the beach, as well. It also dictated how I would fish.

Normally, this time of year, I am out ripping spinner baits through weed beds or dropping wacky worms into open spaces between patches of aquatic vegetation.

Trying to haul in a battling bass or a northern pike would definitely put undue stress on my healing chest. So for the first time in my life, I am fishing and hoping I don’t hook into a big one. This summer the target species is panfish.

After spending so much time indoors, it felt absolutely liberating to be out on the water with paddle in hand.

Fishing, however, provided some challenges.

Without an anchor, any fishing I did was from a drifting canoe, not always a good plan if you’re bobber fishing for panfish.

If there was any breeze at all, the boat drifted and fishing became frustrating.

My solution was to stick close to shore near where I lived where the woods and cottages would block the wind.

I found myself seeking panfish in locations that I had paddled over thousands of times but never fished.

Some of these spots were productive. One evening I caught a bunch of eating size gills and sunnies from a small patch of weeds just down from my house.

This was definitely more fun than the low return I used to get fishing summer nights for pike or bass.

August, widely known as the low point of the angling season for trying to hook into game fish, I discovered, was a pretty good time to try for panfish as these pint-sized finny swimmers still had a good appetite for bits of live bait. And I don’t have to go far to find them. Who would have thought that a heart operation would help improve my fishing. But this summer will be remembered as the one where following doctor’s orders proved to be a prescription for fishing success.

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