On Coffee & Fishing

I became a coffee drinker later in life than most. For some reason, I was resistant to it during college and in the few years following, at my first desk job. I don’t recall my motivations specifically, but it was something to do with not wanting to be reliant on caffeine and also an effort to save some money.

After working for several years, I left the corporate world on an extended fishing holiday and during that trip, around camps and campfires, I started brewing, drinking, and enjoying a cup coffee every now and then; not every morning, but enough so that I came to appreciate the taste, which was likely a hurdle for me before. But more than the drink itself, it was the ritual and camaraderie related to coffee that I came to enjoy the most.

Returning to the States after that trip, I started guiding and even then, I resisted coffee. This is harder for me to rationalize now because I distinctly remember my fellow guides drinking it. In any case, after a few years of guiding, when I returned to an office and a 9-to-5, I befriended a coworker who was — is, I presume — an exceptional and dedicated coffee drinker. There was always coffee available in our office and my coworker, Steve, always had a cup going.

At some point in my tenure working with Steve — I’m guessing on a Monday or Friday morning — I poured myself a cup of his ‘high-test’. Steve was thrilled and, ultra-caffeinated, we reclined in our office chairs and chatted back and forth across the lab where we worked. Eventually our conversation waned so I turned to my computer monitor and a bulging inbox. Then my mind wandered, the smell and taste and warmth of the coffee transporting me to one specific morning campfire in New Zealand, around which I’d drank a cup of camp coffee a few years prior.

Lucas and I had been on the road for over a month by that point and we’d made our way into the southwestern part of the South Island, into and around Fjordland National Park. We ended up finding good fishing and close and easy access to several rivers and lakes in one particular area, so we stayed there for a number of nights, keeping the same camp or moving it only by a few miles each day. I distinctly remember sitting in front of a small campfire one morning, burning small branches, sticks, and twigs not for warmth nor light but for ambiance, I suppose, sipping hot coffee while we discussed the day ahead and where would start fishing.

Returning to the present, I immediately told Steve about my daydream and that particular cup of coffee in New Zealand.

“Isn’t that great?!” he laughed. “That cup of coffee you’re drinking now just took you out of this office and brought you to a campsite in New Zealand, about to go fishing!”

I realized that coffee held a host of memories and moments, and by drinking a cup of it, no matter where I was, could and would unlock some doors to faraway places in my mind, and help me return to them. If the caffeine jolt wasn’t enough reason to have a cup every morning, then that surely was.

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There was coffee in the truck cab with Mike on the Olympic Peninsula, in the dark while the truck warmed up, and we tried to decide where to go fishing.

There was coffee on the beach in front of the lodge in the Berry Islands, watching the sun come up, with Stacey.

I had coffee at the boat launch, in the boat with Matt, on the South Fork, both of us trying to shake off the hangover in time for the afternoon hatch.

Coffee in the rental Suburban, on the way to the Wilkie’s with the Ice Boys, about to head onto the ice, as day breaks.

Coffee on the way to the boat ramp in the Everglades, Andy and I alternating the truck’s heat controls between full-on and full-off, while Bre and Wilds make fun of us from the back seat.

Café con leche at Sandy’s in Key West, on the way to Marathon Key to go tarpon fishing.

Coffee on the screened-in porch, overlooking the Miramichi, with my father, Jim, and Ron.

Hurriedly drinking coffee on the gravel bar on the lower Rogue before I stepped into the run for my first casts of the day.

Making coffee on the upper Rogue with Jake and Max, when I forgot the pot to boil water in, so adding some Allen’s Coffee Brandy to the luke-warm brew, for good measure.

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Now, I drink it every day.

Thanks, Steve.