Columnist Susan Snyder: Angler says Lake Mead is a catch

Monday, Sept. 13, 2004 | 8:26 a.m.

Sometimes a little travel and an outsider's perspective is just the thing an apathetic local resident needs.

Wayne Roberts has fished dozens of lakes all over Canada and in all but three U.S. states. But when he retires in 21 months, the one place he hopes to visit is our very own Lake Mead. It is one watering hole for which the well-traveled fisherman and sometimes-pro for Uncle Walt's fishing tackle company has yet to wet a hook.

We met Roberts during our recent vacation through the Northwest when we camped next to him at Winchester Lake, a 103-acre former timbermill pond in Winchester, Idaho.

Two days before the Labor Day weekend officially started, Roberts was the only other camper we encountered at the park. No sense in formalities when your neighbor is the only other human in sight -- and the best fish fryer this side of the Mississippi. Probably best on the other side of it too.

"I've been fishing since before I could walk," he said. "My grandfather used to take me out."

Roberts lives in Spokane, Wash., where he makes cabinets for a living and fishes the rest of the time. He was raised near Winchester and recalled how as a teenager he could give $32.50 to the Snake River boat captain who delivered mail to ranches in Hells Canyon and catch a ride to whatever remote beach he chose for a few days fishing.

Roberts had traveled to Winchester Lake to conduct a fishing clinic the state park sponsored for campers. Roberts almost giggles with delight in talking about helping amateur anglers.

"The kids are the best," he said.

The tiny Idaho lake is his favorite spot because it is simply loaded with fish. There's no limit on the number of crappie, blue gill or perch one can take from its depths, and Roberts catches 100 or more in a day.

All the better for us. Roberts quickly learned of my affinity for perch and proceeded to go out the next day and catch enough in an hour to feed the three of us very well.

Made me sorry we couldn't stick around for the weekend seminar. He not only helps people catch fish, he cleans and cooks them for everyone too.

The state park posters announcing his workshop called him "a legend."

"I thought you had to be dead to be a legend," Roberts said, chuckling as he plopped perch filets into a roiling pot of cooking oil.

"But I don't know of many guys on the pro tour or anywhere else who can run a seminar for 60 to 100 people and catch enough fish to feed 'em all -- every time."

The perch crackled and sizzled as it bobbed in the oil. The filets were coated with Roberts' special "secret" beer batter that's not so secret anymore. He gives it out at his seminars.

He uses a store-bought baking mix, adds a few dashes of seasonings, a few generous shakes of Tabasco and a bottle of beer.

Later, as temperatures dipped to the low 40s and we sipped coffee in front of a blazing campfire, I asked Roberts where he hadn't fished but would like to.

"Mead," he replied without hesitation.

It was almost a jolt. Seems it's been a while since this Southern Nevadan heard someone mention our lake without criticizing it.