The Icelandic Canadian - 01.03.1954, Blaðsíða 53

THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
51
PROFILES
reprint from the
COMOX DISTRICT FREE PRESS, Courtenay, British Columbia
Fisheman-guide extraordinary, Hall-
dor Erickson of Comox, only works at
other jobs at the rrtoment so he can
go fishing when he wants to.
Spend a day with him in a row-
boat and if you can get him to talk,
you will come away with a share of
his lore on fishing that has taken him
the past 50 years to acquire .
There is even a deep tyee hole in
the Comox Bay, that has become to
be known as “Erickson’s Hole”, and
he can tell you where the various types
of salmon are at certain seasons of the
year and even at certain times of the
day.
But his love is for the tyee, “Give me
the big ones,” he says. “I like those
tyee. Cohoes are not too bad, but those
little blueblacks! Bah!”
Born 63 years ago in Manitoba, lean,
grey-haired, nearly 6 foot tall, Halldor
learned his fishing lore first on Lakes
Winnipeg and Manitoba.
In those days, he says, the fishing
was best in the winter time through
the ice, and a tough job it must have
been as he describes it.
It was an all-day job in weather
that often was worse than 40 degrees
below zero.
Even in the summer fishing was a
hazardous business, using only sail-
boats to cover the lakes.
Mr. Erickson came to Campbell
River in 1927 where he quickly se-
cured an envious reputation as a fish-
ing guide on the ’River.
“I had two brothers up there, older
than I, and we were all guides at the
time,” he said.
“I like guiding people’, he admits.
“You meet the nicest sort of people.
I could count on the fingers of one
hand, the number of miserable ones
you have to take out.”
“The worst thing I hate ,is taking
somebody out and not catching any
fish. I’ve even had them offer me extra
money to catch them something. That
makes me mad. I’d rather take less and
get them a fish.”
As he rows about on the job he
likes the best, Mr. Erickson expands,
and with his keen blue outdoorsman’s
eyes, takes in every change in the wa-
ter or sky.
He can remember practically all of
the parties he has taken out over the
20 or more years he has guided in the
district.
He has little anecdotes to tell about
each party, little tales of surprise or
shock when the party hits a big one,
or loses it.
“Bing Crosby”, the last big name
tourist he guided to fish, “was more
tickled over the first little one he