Hersey's 'Blues' Reminds Us How Fishing Should Be

Most of the people we fish and hunt with have dirt or paint under their fingernails, bless them, but there are exceptions. Last week, the ambassador and the former foreign minister from Denmark came out to the Chesapeake one morning to fish. We didn't catch anything, but that's not always the point.

The ex-foreign minister was a charming fellow who's been everywhere and read a lot. Two of his favorite books turned out to be favorites of mine, as well: "Cod," by Mark Kurlansky, which chronicles how codfish fueled civilization's westward expansion to the Americas, and "Blues," by John Hersey, an excursion into the moral side of sport fishing.

"Blues" you can buy these days on Alibris, the used-book Web site, for $1.99. You couldn't spend a better two bucks.

I gave away my copy but remember it well, even 20 years later. It's about a crusty New Englander who takes an hour or two whenever weather and tide are right to go offshore alone and catch a bluefish -- just one -- to bring home and prepare in some interesting way. Recipes are included.

Hersey died in 1993 so he can't speak for himself, but I'm pretty sure he'd be as appalled as I am at some elements of sport fishing today. I'm glad he wasn't sitting next to me last week, for example, when I drove by the Boatyard Bar & Grill in Annapolis, where hundreds of revelers were guzzling rum and beer in the parking lot while awaiting results of the opening day catch-and-release tournament. It was a carnival.

The theme of "Blues" is simple. When sportsmen go out to chase wild creatures, they owe the quarry a measure of respect. It's hard enough for a wild fish to make it with pollution, commercial fishing and the vagaries of weather to contend with. Now comes an armada of sports to chase them down in hundreds of high-powered boats towing 15 or 20 lures apiece, with all kinds of electronic gadgetry to pinpoint the target. All to win a stupid prize.

And that's a high-minded tournament. The Boatyard's annual opening day affair encourages catch-and-release by issuing official measuring sticks and awarding prizes based on photos, not dead fish (the contest started with dead fish years ago but got pilloried for it). And they donate proceeds to environmental causes.

Next weekend, the Maryland Saltwater Sportsman's Association's annual tournament promises a cash prize of up to $100,000 for the biggest dead rock. "The Atlantic migratory stock of rockfish will be making their way up the Bay and there is no better time to catch one of these magnificent beauties," gushes the MSSA flier. Right -- kill 'em on the way to the spawning grounds to win big money! This from a "conservation" organization?

I was planning to fish the Boatyard tournament opening day but when Mike Krissoff said we'd have to meet at 4 a.m. and run 30 miles to get to the best water, I opted to sleep in. About 7 a.m., my crabbing partner Gene Miller turned up for coffee. It was a gorgeous day. We were going to paint the crab boat but decided to take an hour or two first to troll among the throngs.

Ten minutes from the house we put out three lines with bucktails a few miles below the Bay Bridge. Ten minutes later, one stout trolling rod bent double and bounced back with a prodigious strike. I grabbed it, set the hook and carefully reeled in a magnificent beauty of 36 inches. Shortly thereafter we rolled up the other lines and headed home. We had plenty.

Later, with paint-stained fingers we filleted and skinned the meat, cut the fillets into portion-sized pieces, and that night my good wife Fran seasoned them with salt and pepper, dredged them lightly in flour and sautéed them in butter -- not a moment too long. Meantime, she fixed a compote of diced tomatoes and shallots, olive oil, capers and red wine to dress the fish at table to taste. No king ever ate finer.

Next day I went online and ordered a new copy of "Blues," a brilliant reminder of what the sport is meant to be.

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CASTING CALL: If you have kids, gather them up and take them down to Fletcher's Boathouse on the Potomac today for the annual Casting Call sponsored by the American Fly Fishing Tackle Association and the National Park Service. A stretch of C&O Canal has been cordoned off and stocked with sunfish, and instructors are on hand with all the necessary equipment to get youngsters going. Best of all, it's free.

Hours are 11 a.m.-4 p.m. While you're there, check out the shad fishing on the main river, which should be red hot.

HONORED: Bill Burton, at 82 the dean of outdoors writers in these parts, was inducted into the Maryland-Delaware-DC Journalism Hall of Fame on Thursday. He's an institution, having written for more than 50 years for the Baltimore Sun, Annapolis Capital, Bay Weekly and other publications. Despite battling cancer, he's still hard at it, producing three columns a week.

"I'm going in there with H.L. Mencken and Ben Bradlee," said the pipe-puffing Burton of his latest honor. He deserves it.

DOWNSTREAM: The Canoe Cruisers Association's 54th annual Downriver Race from Great Falls to Sycamore Island is May 22. It's for paddlers of "high-intermediate" skills or above. To register, check the Web site http://www.canoecruisers.org or e-mail starmitchell@verizon.net.