Fishing

Fishing is certainly not my best side. To snare pike fry during childhood it was exciting and then to stick lake on the first clear ice in the river it was also exciting but sitting with a fishing rod and not getting a pacifier was not exciting except once when I was at Hultman's meadow together with everyone in the village kids to bait and it so happened that I was barefoot and came into contact with a bait hook that was lying in the grass and it went into the bottom of a toe and it hurt and it couldn't be taken out. Sitting on a bike rack, I traveled to the Provincial Doctor together with everyone. Think they at the doctor's surgery got themselves a nice little emergency. Once, when Ingrid and I became a couple, we were in Norway and we met up with Kalle and Brita and continued to Namsos to fish for salmon. Kalle was the big angler and had reserved a place in a salmon river. I followed along but only had a simple fishing rod with me and baited with a worm as usual and just stood there and the pros all around them flew and flapped and really tried. Then suddenly I felt a sting and reflexively I just lifted a large Salmon out of the river high above the heads of the big fish far up on the beach. It probably wasn't that popular.
But the nicest fishing memories I have are when Ingrid and I row out with the little children Emma and Kajsa out on upper Mångsjön at Månganvallen. There were plenty of perch there. We stayed close to the beach where it nibbled all the time. Then we rowed to our nice sandy beach where the children had a swim while I made a fire on tar wood and grilled the little perch sticks and we all thought they were so good. They burst and opened themselves and it was just a matter of sucking them in.

Björs Olle

The funnest fishing and nicest and nicest dinner I had was when I came home for the summer with the boys, Pervin and her mother. We headed off to Milan beyond Harsa onto a small road and found a good spot - the boys played, Betty enjoyed the nature and me and Pervin caught a dozen or so small trout. Then home up to Raska's and knocked a boiled potato from Björ's Anders' pearlland, some carrots from Henrik's vegetable land and home to the cabin and ate wrongfully captured food that tasted better than anything else. Another time I took Anund out on the boat at 9 o'clock on an August evening. "Don't be too long," said Pervin. We paddled for about an hour and didn't get a bite, but the evening and night were beautiful. It struck me after a while that perhaps Anund was bored, so I asked a little cautiously if he was tired and wanted to go home. He was completely uncomprehending – when he had so much fun with the night, the Light and the fishing even if it didn't bring anything. Then I understood that he was of the right kind.

Kåra Lars-Erik