Fishing for Women

By Scott Radley
The Hamilton SpectatorMILTON (May 22, 2007)

Ever since Gronk the caveman first hooked a prehistoric bass with a curved and sharpened root attached to a length of vine, then went back to the cave to brag to his wife about how big it really was, anglers have been among the world's great storytellers.

In the time between the fish's release and the boat reaching shore, 10-inch anorexic walleyes have become eight-pound monsters. Largemouth bass that wouldn't look out of place in a goldfish bowl have become near-record lunkers. And no pike, no matter how tiny or feeble, has ever failed to bend a rod nearly to the point of snapping.

Yet in the annals of fish stories, it's hard to imagine anyone ever opened their tale of their greatest catch with the four words Terri MacKinnon chooses.

"I've caught a beaver."

And with that, every sound in the room stops and every ear in the room turns toward her. Because even for those who no longer buy anything a fisherman says, the explanation of how a mother of three from Milton hooked and landed a 50-odd pound rodent is worth a listen.

Just like the rest of her story.

Until nine years ago, the idea that the 48-year-old would even be holding a fishing rod was laughable. A successful businesswoman in the travel and tourism industry, she was as girlie-girl as they came. Put a worm on a hook? C'mon. Touch a fish? Get serious.

"You had your hair and makeup and nails done," she says. "There was no way I was even going to go outdoors. Why bother? There are tanning beds."

But then she met Andre online. And when he sent along the first picture of himself for her inspection, she just knew she was going to marry him. She even told a friend so.

Thing was, he was holding a fish. Turns out the man she was falling in love with has a simple dream. He wants to -- still does -- fish on the Bassmasters Tour. So much so that when they finally met in person, that's what he talked about. Fishing.

And when he asked her to join him for an ice-fishing expedition shortly after, things really got interesting. Which is kind of what you'd expect when your date shows up for a day on the ice in a short skirt, short boots and nylons.

"He said, 'You've got to be kidding me,'" she laughs.

But once she was properly bundled up and dropped her line through the hole, she was surprised at how much fun she was having. Shocked, actually. Particularly when she yanked up a jumbo perch. The biggest of the day for anyone. In an instant, she was a convert.

From that moment, fishing became a regular part of their life. She started getting her own gear and becoming a little frustrated when Andre and his buddies regularly helped themselves to it. So to keep their hands off, she grabbed a bottle of nail polish and painted her rod a garish shade of bright pink. That'll keep them from taking it, she thought.

Skip ahead five years.

Life isn't easy. Clinical depression is an opponent that doesn't rest. To clear her head and get away from everything she heads up north for a retreat from the world. It's there she catches just a few seconds of an episode of Oprah. Just enough to hear the host implore her audience to do something constructive and world-changing with their passion. To make a difference.

A few minutes later, lying in a hammock by the lake, MacKinnon did something that changed the course of her life. Instead of drifting off for a nap, she began thinking about that concept and asking herself what she'd do if this was her last day alive. Nothing came to her. Finally, frustrated, she let it out.

"I screamed, 'What the hell am I passionate about?'"

Just then, she looked over toward the cottage and saw the pink rod.

Hmmm. Her sister was going through chemotherapy for breast cancer at the time. Her dad had battled prostate cancer. Her father-in-law, too. Suddenly it came clear.

She loved fishing. But most women she knew were like she used to be. On a list of things to do with free time, trying to catch a bass was right behind nude bungee jumping. What if she could do something to change that? What if she could do something to make it accessible to people like her old self? And what if she could raise awareness for breast cancer at the same time?

Already known among her friends as Fishergirl, she immediately went about starting her own company in that name. First up, creating a prototype rod that was not only pink, but designed for a woman. Problem was, finding financing was a nightmare, eclipsed in frustration only by trying to get the rod finished and mass-produced in time to be on the shelves for Christmas. Five months away.

Several months and a trip to Shanghai later, she found three local investors willing to take a chance on her idea and a factory that could make them, and the made-in-China Fishergirl rod was on Wal-Mart and Canadian Tire shelves. More than that, it was being honoured at trade shows in Las Vegas.

Still not satisfied, she pushed even harder. First she decided to sponsor the only all-female team on the Bassmasters Tour. That was a kick. Made better when she decided to join it.

The first three tournaments were a disaster. Barely any fish bothered to take her bait. The cost of travel wasn't cheap either. But then it happened.

On weekend Number Four, she hauled in enough to finish in the money. The first Canadian woman ever to do that. Then she did it again. It added up to only $1,350, but that wasn't the point. What matters was that she did it.

As always though, the road developed a few new bumps.

A year ago, the company was sold to the original investors. They wanted to go in a different direction, one she didn't really love. So she unloaded it for what she describes as something other than a small fortune, and six months ago made her next move. She calls it womenfishing.com.

"I've gone from being a girl to a woman," she quips.

Actually, what she's done is gone from trying to move merchandise, to trying to sell a philosophy. Today, she's trying to push the idea of getting outside and getting active. The website offers all kinds of tips for women who've never fished before on how to get started.

But it's more than that. It's a concerted effort to make the outdoors accessible by removing many of the unknowns she had when she started. She figures if people aren't worried about being embarrassed by their lack of knowledge, they might give it a shot and find the same love for it she did.

In short, as inspiring as Oprah was to her in that moment at the cottage, she hopes to be to others. An angling evangelist to the unhooked masses.

"It's not always about the fishing," she says. "It's about the experience of fishing. I don't care if I catch a fish. I just think how lucky I am to be fishing."

Not that she gets shut out too often. This summer she's competing on the U.S. Anglers' Choice Circuit, mostly on and around Lake Erie. And even when she's not competing, she and Andre will be out every weekend without fail. Going after each other for bragging rights.

Though she'll be doing it all without her signature rod anymore. That's in her past.

"It's not about the pink fishing rod," she says. "It's about getting out there."

And trying to catch whatever you can. Which brings us back to the beaver.

When she first hooked it, she figured she'd caught the whopper of all whoppers. Because whatever it was on the business end of her line deep under the water was pulling her boat all over the lake. For half an hour it fought.

"I thought it was the biggest fish of my life," she says.

Then she stared in shock as her prize catch walked out of the lake up onto shore. He shook his foot a few times to release the hook, and scampered away.

More than a little surprised, MacKinnon headed back out to look for something more familiar. And to take some good-natural teasing from Andre.

She got her revenge though. Because the next day he latched onto something rather unusual himself. A loon.

Hey, you just can't make this stuff up. Fishing story or not.

sradley@thespec.com

905-526-2440