Bill O’Boyle: Leave the garbage at home

Apr. 30—Well, it's May and all thoughts should go to good things, such as flowers, planting gardens, cutting grass, hiking and, of course, fishing in Canada.

At least the fishing thought is back for me after a three-year absence due to the pandemic restrictions.

But in about two weeks, my closest of friends and I will be making our trip up north to Ontario for the search for big northern pike and walleye.

Now before you get all up in arms, we return most of the fishies back into the lake after the battle. We do, however, savor a few walleyes because the are just so delicious.

So in preparation of the trip, I decided to visit Cabela's/Bass Pro Shops in Hamburg on Saturday. It was a good trip — one I used to make more often, but had no reason to go there for the last three years.

I did pick up a few items and I drove back home. I took Route I-81 to Route 61 on the way down, but the return trip was a different route.

I decided to take Route 895 to Route 443 to Route 61 to Route 309. There were reasons for this decision — mostly because of memories, some good, some not so good.

One of the good reasons for taking that route was to stop at Leiby's Restaurant, where I can remember having lunch many times and always purchasing a raisin pie. Back in the day, having a slice of raisin pie with a cup of coffee was as good as it got.

I would head to the Delaware River near Hancock, N.Y., to fish. What a beautiful setting and the fishing was always good. And getting home for that raisin pie and cup of coffee topped off a great day.

So you can understand why when I asked the woman at the counter if Leiby's still sold raisin pies, that I was very chagrined to learn they do not sell raisin pies. So much for nostalgic travel.

So I decided to get a vanilla fudge cone and get back in the car. Leiby's still has awesome ice cream, by the way.

But with the nostalgia lopped off the trip, I hopped on I-81 north to get home as fast as I could. The NFL draft was wrapping up, so I had a goal.

So back to the Canada fishing trip. It's about an 8-hour trip, but it is the best of times and I am not exaggerating. From the time we leave to the time we return, this trip is filled with fun, excitement and anticipation.

There is an old prayer that goes:

Dear Lord,

Grant me the serenity to accept the size of the fish I catch, the courage not to lie about it and the wisdom to know that none of my fishing buddies would believe me anyway.

Amen

Since I was a kid, I always dreamed of going to Canada to fish. My neighbor across Reynolds Street in Plymouth, Alex "Ecky" Kraynack, would make an annual trip to Canada with a bunch of his fishing buddies. They would go to Sharbot Lake, a place I've seen signs for, but have never been to. Some day I will go over just to see that lake.

All I know is that Mrs. Kraynack would tell us neighborhood kids that Ecky would be home soon and we would wait on the corner of Reynolds and Second streets for him to return with the bounty. When Ecky and his buddies did return, they would take several silver coolers from the back of Ecky's silver-blue Ford stationwagon and set them on the ground.

All of us would just stand there, wide-eyed, waiting to see what was inside. There were walleye, trout and pike on ice staring back at us. Ecky would let us pick them up and look at them. Every year — usually in mid-June — this would be the highlight for the neighborhood kids.

So when I was asked to go with this group of fishers to a place in Quebec called Lake Kipawa, I endured the 14-hour drive and the lake looked magnificent. We never returned to Kipawa.

Every trip is an adventure and each has provided memories we will have forever. And we fish long and hard — on the lake every morning by 7 a.m. and back to the cabin by 1:30 p.m. for our main meal, then back on the lake by 3 p.m. until almost dark.

Then back to the cabin for the "apres peche" of snacks and biting sarcasm.

I will make a checklist to make sure I remember to take everything, such as phone charger, rain gear and, oh yeah, my meals. Don't ask.

One year I forgot all those, but somehow brought a bag of my home garbage by mistake.

That would not make Ecky proud.

Reach Bill O'Boyle at 570-991-6118 or on Twitter @TLBillOBoyle.