Fishing, Sushi Style

Having whiled away many summers of my youth on the banks of shady pools and rushing streams in Shropshire, England, I was keen to see how fishing in the far east might differ from fishing back in Blighty.

We had already discussed fishing in Japan and trips had been mentioned drunkenly, but I never really expected anything to come of it. In Japanese schools there is a rigid hierarchy in the workplace, so when the trip came to fruition, I felt honoured to have been invited. However, it wasn’t fishing as we know it.

Trout stream in Japan

I rolled up at 8:02am on Saturday morning at the designated meeting point, to find that all three of the other members of the angling squad where already waiting. The Japanese are extremely punctual, so when they say 8:00am they mean 8:00am on the nose. Feeling slightly guilty for being so late, I made my apologies and we were on our way.

We set off toward the river, going from major road to minor road to narrow lane, to dirt track. As the width of the road decreased, the beauty of the scenery increased. We wound up a small mountain path that eventually opened out at a little hut. I stepped out of the car, to be surrounded by lush mountain forests shrouded in wisps of mist and a beautiful crystal clear river rushing down the mountainside. I was quick to agree with the principal that this was indeed a “beautiful rocation”.

The principal went to speak with the man who owned the fishing there, and we were soon walking up to the river to commence the hunt for the mighty trout that were said to inhabit these waters. By moving some of the rocks and boulders, the short stretch of river had been divided into a series of deep pools. I chose a pool, took the rod provided by the principal, and with a salmon egg for bait, I was soon attempting to lure the trout from their lairs.

The principal was quick to strike, and had soon pulled out several rainbow trout from the pool he was fishing in. I put his quick result down to the years of experience that he had in fishing these waters, and I continued the wait, knowing it would be just a matter of time before I too was reeling in a fat bellied trout.

Unfortunately, after about half an hour, I still wasn’t having much luck, and I began to wonder how my colleague was still managing to whip out fish after fish. However, unbeknown to me, my ‘luck’ was about to change. The owner of the stretch of river came trudging up to the bank, bearing a large barrel. He then proceeded to pour the contents of the barrel into the pool that I was fishing in. The barrel contained in the region of twentyfive small rainbow trout.

It was at this point that I realised why ‘fish master flash’ had been having all the luck, and the terrible truth became apparent. The fish man breeds rainbow trout. You pay the fish man for a barrel of trout. The fish man pours the barrel of trout into your pool. You then proceed to catch all the trout he has just put into your pool.

Once freshly stocked with a glut of trout, it was easy to see how the principal had been reeling them in. As the trout have nowhere to go, and are most likely starved before release, they tend to go for your bait with little hesitation.

After about an hour I was a little bored of hooking trout, but my principal insisted I catch all twentyfive trout that had been put into the pool, after all, he had paid for them. This may well be the first fishing story in history that doesn’t need to exaggerate about ‘the one that got away’ because there were no ‘ones that got away’ that day. Every last fish was captured.

The idea was to scoff the lot; fins, bones, everything except the head

At around midday, we took our haul of trout, (which by my standards were tiny, and would have been thrown straight back in had I been back home), gutted them, salted them, skewered them and cooked them over a fire. We then ate them Japanese style; i.e. pretty much everything apart from the head went down the hatch. Fins, bones, and most of the spine were all crunched up and swallowed. I must admit that I was a little reluctant at first, as I normally like my fish ‘o filleted’ but they were actually pretty tasty, and considering the largest can’t have been more than 20cm long, this was the only way to make a meal of our catch.

It was a very pleasant experience to be sitting there in a forest, munching down broiled trout with my senior colleagues. The generosity shown to me by my workmates has been much appreciated, and has made me feel very welcome in Japan. I think the principal made the perfect end to the day when he announced to me that: “they taste so much better when you’ve caught them yourself”.

As we packed up our gear and began the journey home, I reflected on the days experiences. It had been a fun, insightful day, and I was keen to do it again. Next time however, it would be nice to make it a little more challenging, so I’m going to try and arrange a shooting fish in a barrel expedition. Apparently it’s not as easy as it looks.

Sam is currently working as an English teacher in Fukui, Japan. For more stories and pictures of life in the land of the sumo, check: www.thefunkydrummer.blogspot.com.