Jim Foxall
Senior Member
I read a quote by well known author Jim Harrison the other day. "Death steals everything except our stories."
It got me thinking about my old friend and fishing partner Keith Gate.
I began fishing with Keith Gate long ago. We first met when my mum was spending time with his new bride's father. This was after my dad had passed away in 1989, so our friendship began nearly 25 years ago. Although Keith was of humble beginnings, we had fishing in common and in no time were out fishing together fishing for reservoir trout, pike or whatever the lakes and rivers held.
Keith had grown up a rural back-water. He took me to his place one day, it was hard to believe that he and 6 siblings along with his parents had all lived in such a small house. Keith's father and brothers all worked on the land in the area and fishing and hunting was in their blood. They subsisted on poultry that they kept in the garden, or what they hunted in the woods. To Keith it was a perfect life and that instilled a great love of hunting and fishing in him from early childhood. And Keith was a very good fisherman.
Keith regarded himself as somewhat of a gourmet fish and game cook as well. I often joined Keith for smoked trout, pigeon pie etc. that he had prepared. It was great and there were many times I would either ask for his recipe or see if he could spare some for Dixie and the girls. He never ever refused.
Over the years both of our families grew and with that the responsibilities that come with parenthood. Keith and his family moved to Canada and our time fishing together was usually confined to summers when our families would get together for a holiday. Although Keith was pretty skint, his generosity knew no bounds, Many times I could hardly wait to get in a boat with Keith on one of the lakes in the area. I never told Dixie or the kids about this as it would surely disappoint them. They thought our trips were about family fishing time. But after a few trips, Keith became as much a part of the family as Dixie and the girls and it was a foregone conclusion that dad would be fishing with Keith (and perhaps his son) a few days each trip.
Every time we arrived in Nestor Falls (Keith's trailer home), I was anxious to see what new lake or new technique Keith had discovered . He introduced me to jigging for lake trout, trolling over deep water and fishing lures off weedy reefs. All the time he would have a warm smile on his boyish face.
Keith had worked at the local freezer/locker plant in Nestor Falls, Ontario and Keith filleted fish. Eventually he looked after the fish and meat butchery at Safeway. (Incidentally Safeway is an American firm and was the same outfit as in the UK, until a management buyout and subsequently sold to Morrisons). Keith could fillet a trout in 10 seconds, removing all the Y-bones in the process. His skill with a filleting knife fascinated me and soon he was coaching me on his technique. Although I was never as good as Keith, I am proud of the fact that even today I can fillet a trout in less than 30 seconds, and all thanks to Keith.
The best memory I have of Keith involved a big black bear we saw while fishing Stony Bay on Lake of the Woods. It was a miserable early June day with a cold wind and raining incessantly. Keith and I were jigging for trout off a point in the hope that we could catch something for the BBQ on shore, assuming the weather would clear by early afternoon so we could get a camp fire going. While we were fishing Keith tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to another rocky point across the bay. There in the water swimming toward us was a black bear.
Now Keith being Keith he started the outboard and began idling towards the bear. I reeled in my line and asked him what he was doing. "I'm going to get us alongside that bear," he said nonchalantly.
"Keith, I don't think that's a good idea," I said.
"No, you don't understand. Once a bear is in the water they're pretty much defenceless and can't hurt you," Keith explained.
Not being the outdoorsman Keith was, I assumed that he knew what he was talking about. To rationalise this, I reasoned that I had never really seen a Canadian black bear, close-up in the wild, so this would be a great chance to see one really close. A beautiful black bear swimming towards us in the rain.
Keith manoeuvred the boat towards the bear and soon we were within 2 feet of this larger-than-expected head which was now about midway along the side of the boat. Keith picked up the oar and said, "Let's see if we can turn him around."
Although Keith said the bear was defenceless, irritating the bear with a paddle seemed cruel. I told Keith I would just rather sit in the boat and watch the bear swim to the nearby shore. He agreed. But instead of continuing on his original path the bear turned and was soon alongside the boat, less than a foot from the gunnel. "Thank goodness he's defenceless," I thought.
We idled forward and the bear swam alongside. I really didn't fancy this. "Let's just motor away where we can watch him. I don't want to be responsible for him drowning," I suggested to Keith.
Keith reved the motor a bit and we slipped away, all the time watching the bear. He soon turned back towards the rocky point he had been heading towards. Keith turned off the motor so we could watch the bear get out of the water. As the bear clambered ashore we looked at each other with wide eyed astonishment. It was an absolutely massive black bear which soon disappeared into the trees.
The weather didn't improve and by mid afternoon we took down our tackle and headed for our marina. After about a 45 minute miserable, cold and wet boat ride we arrived . As we were unloading our gear a good friend of Keith's, Glen McLeod, came down to the pontoon to see what we had caught. I told him about our encounter with the big black bear in Stony Bay. "We actually got right next to him in the water as he was swimming towards shore".
Now if there was anyone in that area who could out guide, out fish, and out hunt Keith, it was Glen. He gave us a quizzical look, shook his head, and said, "You know, big bears like that are known for climbing in the boat and attacking anyone or anything that's in there."
Keith's eyes widened. He looked at me. I looked at him. "I thought you knew all there was to know about wildlife up here, I said."
" I didn't know that," Keith said a bit sheepishly.
Now I look back on this adventure and smile and wish with all my heart that I could be in a boat again with Keith even if we put ourselves in potential danger with a big black bear. Unfortunately 8 years ago Keith had a heart attack, he didn't make it to the hospital 30 miles away. He was 54 years old.
To this day I still miss him terribly. Like Jim Harrison said, "Death steals everything except our stories." I hope you enjoyed this one. It's all I have left of my buddy.
It got me thinking about my old friend and fishing partner Keith Gate.
I began fishing with Keith Gate long ago. We first met when my mum was spending time with his new bride's father. This was after my dad had passed away in 1989, so our friendship began nearly 25 years ago. Although Keith was of humble beginnings, we had fishing in common and in no time were out fishing together fishing for reservoir trout, pike or whatever the lakes and rivers held.
Keith had grown up a rural back-water. He took me to his place one day, it was hard to believe that he and 6 siblings along with his parents had all lived in such a small house. Keith's father and brothers all worked on the land in the area and fishing and hunting was in their blood. They subsisted on poultry that they kept in the garden, or what they hunted in the woods. To Keith it was a perfect life and that instilled a great love of hunting and fishing in him from early childhood. And Keith was a very good fisherman.
Keith regarded himself as somewhat of a gourmet fish and game cook as well. I often joined Keith for smoked trout, pigeon pie etc. that he had prepared. It was great and there were many times I would either ask for his recipe or see if he could spare some for Dixie and the girls. He never ever refused.
Over the years both of our families grew and with that the responsibilities that come with parenthood. Keith and his family moved to Canada and our time fishing together was usually confined to summers when our families would get together for a holiday. Although Keith was pretty skint, his generosity knew no bounds, Many times I could hardly wait to get in a boat with Keith on one of the lakes in the area. I never told Dixie or the kids about this as it would surely disappoint them. They thought our trips were about family fishing time. But after a few trips, Keith became as much a part of the family as Dixie and the girls and it was a foregone conclusion that dad would be fishing with Keith (and perhaps his son) a few days each trip.
Every time we arrived in Nestor Falls (Keith's trailer home), I was anxious to see what new lake or new technique Keith had discovered . He introduced me to jigging for lake trout, trolling over deep water and fishing lures off weedy reefs. All the time he would have a warm smile on his boyish face.
Keith had worked at the local freezer/locker plant in Nestor Falls, Ontario and Keith filleted fish. Eventually he looked after the fish and meat butchery at Safeway. (Incidentally Safeway is an American firm and was the same outfit as in the UK, until a management buyout and subsequently sold to Morrisons). Keith could fillet a trout in 10 seconds, removing all the Y-bones in the process. His skill with a filleting knife fascinated me and soon he was coaching me on his technique. Although I was never as good as Keith, I am proud of the fact that even today I can fillet a trout in less than 30 seconds, and all thanks to Keith.
The best memory I have of Keith involved a big black bear we saw while fishing Stony Bay on Lake of the Woods. It was a miserable early June day with a cold wind and raining incessantly. Keith and I were jigging for trout off a point in the hope that we could catch something for the BBQ on shore, assuming the weather would clear by early afternoon so we could get a camp fire going. While we were fishing Keith tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to another rocky point across the bay. There in the water swimming toward us was a black bear.
Now Keith being Keith he started the outboard and began idling towards the bear. I reeled in my line and asked him what he was doing. "I'm going to get us alongside that bear," he said nonchalantly.
"Keith, I don't think that's a good idea," I said.
"No, you don't understand. Once a bear is in the water they're pretty much defenceless and can't hurt you," Keith explained.
Not being the outdoorsman Keith was, I assumed that he knew what he was talking about. To rationalise this, I reasoned that I had never really seen a Canadian black bear, close-up in the wild, so this would be a great chance to see one really close. A beautiful black bear swimming towards us in the rain.
Keith manoeuvred the boat towards the bear and soon we were within 2 feet of this larger-than-expected head which was now about midway along the side of the boat. Keith picked up the oar and said, "Let's see if we can turn him around."
Although Keith said the bear was defenceless, irritating the bear with a paddle seemed cruel. I told Keith I would just rather sit in the boat and watch the bear swim to the nearby shore. He agreed. But instead of continuing on his original path the bear turned and was soon alongside the boat, less than a foot from the gunnel. "Thank goodness he's defenceless," I thought.
We idled forward and the bear swam alongside. I really didn't fancy this. "Let's just motor away where we can watch him. I don't want to be responsible for him drowning," I suggested to Keith.
Keith reved the motor a bit and we slipped away, all the time watching the bear. He soon turned back towards the rocky point he had been heading towards. Keith turned off the motor so we could watch the bear get out of the water. As the bear clambered ashore we looked at each other with wide eyed astonishment. It was an absolutely massive black bear which soon disappeared into the trees.
The weather didn't improve and by mid afternoon we took down our tackle and headed for our marina. After about a 45 minute miserable, cold and wet boat ride we arrived . As we were unloading our gear a good friend of Keith's, Glen McLeod, came down to the pontoon to see what we had caught. I told him about our encounter with the big black bear in Stony Bay. "We actually got right next to him in the water as he was swimming towards shore".
Now if there was anyone in that area who could out guide, out fish, and out hunt Keith, it was Glen. He gave us a quizzical look, shook his head, and said, "You know, big bears like that are known for climbing in the boat and attacking anyone or anything that's in there."
Keith's eyes widened. He looked at me. I looked at him. "I thought you knew all there was to know about wildlife up here, I said."
" I didn't know that," Keith said a bit sheepishly.
Now I look back on this adventure and smile and wish with all my heart that I could be in a boat again with Keith even if we put ourselves in potential danger with a big black bear. Unfortunately 8 years ago Keith had a heart attack, he didn't make it to the hospital 30 miles away. He was 54 years old.
To this day I still miss him terribly. Like Jim Harrison said, "Death steals everything except our stories." I hope you enjoyed this one. It's all I have left of my buddy.
