I am a Fly Fishing girl
When I was a child, my father used to take me for walks, often along a river or by the sea. We would pass people fishing, perhaps reeling in their lines with struggling fish hooked at the end of them. Once I saw a man take a small fish out of a bucket and impale it, still wriggling, on an empty hook to use as bait.
The Haisla named this point Obela. Not so long ago, the bay was lined with longhouses and canoes, totem poles and fishing gear. The reserve was once a winter village, a place to celebrate the sacred season, when memories passed in dance and song and stories from one generation to the next with great feasts called potlatches.
In our fields, on our fishing vessels, in our factories and our homes, there are people deprived of their freedom and trapped in a life of unimaginable suffering.
I pass my time in the open air on the beach when it is really heavy weather or when the boats go out fishing.
There were a few youthful fishing trips, but I never enjoyed the experiences, partly because I didn't like hurting the bait.
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[ I am a Fly Fishing girl ].
Caution: there's something fishy about this fella...
When I go fishing I like to know that there's nobody within five miles of me.
We use our land for hunting, fishing, hiking, and to create jobs. Our outdoor economy is a billion dollar economic engine for the state that creates jobs.