"Ah, Sweet Madness - - "
	Can any other sport boast as diverse a fraternity as Salmon fishing? From Prince Charles and the Queen Mum to sporting legends Jack Nicklaus and Bobby Orr to actors Lee marvin and Robert Duvall; then on down to to a mixed multitude of of less-renowned individuals like you and me. The pursuit of the king of fish is a shared obsession; a sweet madness. A cynic may wonder why anyone would ever take up the sport. Salmon angling has never been a pastime for the seriously thrifty or those impatient to catch fish.
	In Nova Scotia there are small to medium annual migrations of summer-run and, more often fall-run salmon in many of our rivers. the cost of a license to fish them is low, the requirement for a Guide nil and the scenery gratifying. But, as it is an obsession, we eventually look over the mountain and over to the next, maybe greener, pasture in order to chase bigger and/or more plentiful fish in richer waters. And rich is generally the operative word here.
	While a trip to New Brunswick's fable Miramichi may only set us back $600 - $800 per week, an excursion further afield to to Iceland or Russia could set us back a serious $10,000 for that same week. Air fare, gratuities for guides and the stipend for our dram of choice will all cost extra. Ah, sweet madness.
	In all these storied locales as per our own salmon waters close to home, one constant remains. There is never a guarantee that one will hook a salmon. River levels may be too high; they may be too low. The water may be too clear; it may be too dirty. It may even be too fast or too slow. The fish may be languishing in the estuary or they may have "all gone through".
	The vagaries of this obsessive pastime may drive one to drink or to the brink of insanity. After all, once hooked on this sport we have an all-consuming quest. We will drive along miles of gravel-strewn or mud-holed back roads, constantly donning vest and waders each time we stop. we may cast our fly a thousand or more times in the hope that we will feel that adrenalin-pumping tightening of our line. It may not happen that day or even the next when we are wont to repeat the process. Ah, sweet madness.
	As the cold Scotia spring gives way to fairer days and warming waters, our diverse fraternity will once more break out Sages, Hardys or lesser tools, don vest and waders and trek to our favourite salmon stream. Flies, lovingly created during long winter evenings will be broken out as we approach our favourite salmon "hole" with slow, almost reverential steps. We will take time to savour that initial yearly glance into familiar, swirling waters.
	The annual madness has begun once more. Do we care if we actually catch a fish? Do we care if our spouse discovers our cache of fishing expense receipts? Do we care if we have two weeks booked at the beach with the family later this season? Nah, two weeks on the Costa-del-Sunstroke won't be half as attractive as standing up to our armpits in a chilly Atlantic river attempting to hook a salmon that may exist only in our imagination. . . Ah, sweet madness.
	Reprinted from Beaches, Brooks & Byways article - 19/6/97. Daily News.
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