So I went fishing…

So I woke up this morning, usual time.  Alright, fine, a little late… 6:30am.   Had coffee and made the decision that I would go fishing.

Now I have to let it be known that this is my third trip fishing by myself.  The first was informative.  Now I understand what it is like to get to the water and have people in my fishing spot.  Not once, but twice.

Needless to say, I am not the calm individual that John is.  As in the time he took his kayak out onto the water and came back within five minutes, informing me that there was a hole in it.  I stared at him, waiting for whatever was to come next.   Nothing!   No exclamations, no cussing, No freak out session.

Hmmm, moving right along.  I find myself watching the couple get out of their car and move their way to the middle of the beach.  This is not a big beach.  Just a small one.

“Why?  Why do they have to sit in the middle of the beach?  Why?”

As I watch, I can feel my frustration level go up.  If we take a moment to consider, I don’t know how to get to the other lake, we can understand that this thought raised my frustration level a little more.  Also, I consider myself and my attitude.  I have not done this myself and if I catch something like a pickerel, I am going to have to deal with releasing a fish with teeth.  I do not want to be doing this with an audience.

It would be terrible if some well meaning individual asks me if I want help with that.  I know the nice response would be, “No, thanks anyway.” but that is not what I would say and I know it.

So I call John.  I inform him of the injustice at the beach.  He gives me directions to another pond.

Let me just point out that my version of informing John, or anyone else for that matter, is to make as theatrical of a verbal display as possible.  This is in lieu of the fact that I am not standing in front of him, therefore, incapable of giving him the whole visual.  Me on my imaginary stage, acting out the whole scene.  What, it’s for entertainment purposes.

I drive to the other pond.   Fished for about a half hour before I caught two trees and went home.

Second fishing trip, I get there and you would think it was a hot day in August.  Beach people everywhere.  Mental note, don’t go there in the afternoon.  Go to the second pond, more people.  I go home.

This morning was going to be different.  I leave at 8am, what could possibly go wrong?  I arrived at the beach and there was a couple of people with a dog.  Dogs I understand.  Dog people I understand.

I jump out, grab the fishing pole and bag as quickly as I can, and get down there as fast as possible before anyone else pulls into the parking lot.

This did not happen as quickly as it sounds.  My hook got stuck on something in the truck and I had to get that loose, which took longer than I wanted.

It felt really good to get to the water finally.  After a few minutes, I realize there is something wrong with Sydney.  I suppose I need to tell you that Sydney is the name of my lure.  Every lure.  They all look the same.  A little rubber fish with a hook.  That is it, and his name is Sydney.

So I cut little Sydney off the line and put on a new Sydney.  I spray him with his garlic cologne and tell him he shouldn’t be so dis social.  Go make a friend.  Instead, I catch a tree, again.

The dog people leave and I move over to the other side of the beach after putting on yet another Sydney.  I got all excited because I was getting a few hits with Sydney, but didn’t actually catch anything.  Until, of course, I caught another tree.

While getting another Sydney on there, I suddenly realize that I hadn’t cut the plastic cover off of the last hook.   Mildly annoyed, I think that maybe now I will actually catch a fish since the hook isn’t covered in plastic.

One cast and Sydney is stuck in some branches coming up out of the water…  I pull and I yank, but to no avail.  Cut the string, again.  One more Sydney and I consider planning a trip to get more.  Start to turn the reel and nothing…

No matter what I did, it would not do that winding thing.  I hang my head, broke the reel, snivel….

“Why?”

I will catch a fish at some point, right?  By myself I mean, with no one there.  Wait.  If I catch a fish, with no one there, do I get to make up fish stories???

 

 

 

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11 thoughts on “So I went fishing…

  1. Perhaps I am missing something in this story but, what is wrong with telling everybody that you caught a few sticks? You can exaggerate their size, and dramatize the fight they put up. After all, when was the last time you heard anybody boasting about a stick fishing trip? You can even explain how you BBQ’d them! I think stick fishing may well be a status thing soon because no actual fish should be hurt in the process! 🙂 Remember, snagging takes skill and practice, and should be celebrated. Stick fish are the future!

    Liked by 1 person

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