THREE RODS AND A CANE
For these backcountry anglers, navigating challenges on and off the water was the biggest reward of all
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Pete experiences a key rite of passage for all new anglers: Dropping a fish while attempting to pose for a photo with itSTILL WATER
On our last evening, we enjoyed a glass of the good stuff as the sun dipped below the trees, painting the water in shades of orange and pink. The conversation drifted, as it often does among old friends, through topics trivial and sometimes serious. Pete described, in that thoughtful way he has, one of the realities of living with a degenerative illness. It often feels like your world is getting smaller, he told us, while the list of things you can’t do keeps getting bigger.
“But this week? My world got bigger again,” he said. “I didn’t know if I could do this, but I did. We did. And next time, I’m bringing my own tackle.” There it was—there would be a next time.
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That night, I woke in the wee hours. While Pete and Wes slept, I slipped out of the cabin, and walked down to the water for a last look at the stars glinting off the lake. Coming back from the dock, I was struck by a remarkable sight. Leaning together against the cabin in the moonlight were three fishing rods and Pete’s cane—four simple tools that had quietly made our whole adventure possible.
For me, the trip was also a profound reset. It was a reminder that outdoor adventure doesn’t have to be hard-edged or high-risk to be meaningful. The best journeys aren’t about the fish you catch. They’re about the connections you make with nature and with each other, and pushing back against limits—not by pretending they aren’t there, but by finding ways to navigate around them.
Scott Gardner is Outdoor Canada‘s longtime associate editor.
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