“Whiz, bloop! That’s the sound of my favourite fishing lure, the Buzz Bomb, hitting the surface. The Buzz Bomb is an all-around four-to-six ounce weighted lure with a treble hook. Its diamond shape comes in various bright colours and can be used for casting, trolling or jigging.

The contents of my tackle box is a tangled mess of monofilament, a leaky bottle of fish scent and a rainbow of various jig spoons purchased in an impulsive moment. But my old standby is a chartreuse yellow Buzz Bomb with orange ends. I also have a white one, a minty green one and steel blue one, but my chartreuse one never fails me, except for this year.

I reluctantly tell you that I was essentially skunked. I did catch one fish, a copper rockfish, on the old chartreuse, except I’m embarrassed to say that even though I thoroughly bonked the fish on the head to quickly end any suffering and ensure a tasty meal for supper, it spontaneously sprang to life and a nervous flickering and hopped out of my boat.

Other than that fish, that was it, and I am now seeing the bottom of my deep freeze for the first time in a long while. Mind you, my fishing days were limited, so justifiably, my catch-per-effort ratio was low and by no means a reflection on my true fish-catching abilities.

Casting a line gives me an artificial sense of purpose — a need of catching a fish — when, in fact, breathing salty air, bobbing around in a boat, hanging my head over the gunwales and imagining what lies beneath is as valuable as catching a fish. It’s an experience I recommend to anyone. I want everyone in this House to know that the fishing is actually indeed lofty in the north. I saw with my own eyes the catches of the summer as I walked the docks empty-handed.

There is a plethora of successful fishing guides and fishing lodges worthy of your visit, and I assure you that the sound you will hear will be more like the whiz! of you hooking that big one.”