Opinion/Lunsford: Shoreline access, a fishing story
I love fishing stories. I see them as allegories for hope. Casting your lot into the unknown, you hope the tide will take you to some future, some place, from which, up from the depths, a fish will rise. But how to tell a fishing story if you never catch any fish? It begins with having a place to fish in the first place.
We are perched, my sons and I, on the banks of the Palmer River, whose brackish waters run between Warren and Barrington, but we are not after perch. We hunt tautog, a fish with teeth straight from an orthodontist’s chair. There are none at the moment. Any moment. Ever.
My grandfather told stories of running telephone wire into the backwater eddies of the Broad River, down in Georgia, sending a powerful current into the muddy waters. Electricity-stunned catfish would come, turning bellies up, to the surface. I inherited that same electric power.
I cast my line into the current, and like my grandfather, an electricity flows through me, up rod and down line, into the dark waters. This is the moment when my power is greatest.
When my line hits the water, at that exact moment, an energy pulsates through the deep. It ties every living thing in the sea, angler and fish alike, to the same fate. Nobody catches anything. Not me, not you, not even sharks. I am the fishing equivalent of walking under a ladder while breaking a mirror over the head of a black cat.
I have exercised my powers in the muddy waters of the South, the trout streams of Appalachia, the golden coasts of the Pacific, and the slow rivers of the Heartland. Now, I’m coming for you, New England. Note the days when everything is perfect, yet the fish just won't bite. This may be the worst striper run you’ve ever had.
Which leads me back to the original question: How does one like me (a superhero) tell a fishing story? It begins with having a place to fish.
With 400 miles of coastline, Rhode Island has more opportunity for aspiring anglers than any place I’ve ever lived. It even has constitutionally protected shoreline access. Seriously. Article 1, Section 17 of the state constitution guarantees it.
Despite this, people are still arrested, and “Do Not Trespass” signs abound. Phrases in Section 17 include, “secure in their rights, preservation of their values, duty of the general assembly, and natural environment of the people.” Notwithstanding, Rhode Islanders’ constitutional right to the sea is anything but, and the cause is obvious. The values of the people, which enshrine access to the natural environment, are not being being dutifully protected by the General Assembly. Their rights are not secure.
Enter House Bill 8055. I’ll let you read the details, but it’s a winner. With 47 House members as co-sponsors, it’s also veto-proof. When’s the last time you saw that? The bill’s key provision is language clarifying the boundary between where public access meets private ownership.
Rep. K. Joseph Shekarchi, D-Warwick, holds the keys to the sandcastle. As speaker of the House, it is he who will decide if H8055 comes before the General Assembly. Will the rights of the people be protected? The answer depends on if you care enough about your values as a Rhode Islander to call him and demand your inheritance.
As for that fishing story? It begins with having a place to fish. And sorry about your striper run…
Jake Lunsford, of Warren, is father to four aspiring anglers.
This article originally appeared on The Providence Journal: Opinion/Lunsford: Shoreline access, a fishing story
