I went fishing yesterday and I feel like a rotisserie chicken. Just a little too much sun, we were out there for three hours. There was one little spot of shade that I sat in for about fifteen minutes, but that was it. We did a lot of paddling as well. I am feeling it all, mostly the sun burn.
I had gotten out of work at 6:30 yesterday morning and really didn’t feel like going fishing, but I knew I would regret it if I didn’t. I also knew I would be glad that I did. So I went and I was glad for about the first two hours, but that is neither here nor there.
I love being out on the water. It was my first real try with a worm. I have to practice my casting because I feel like I have no control over the worm at all. I got a few bites, but caught nothing. I was disappointed and after about an hour and a half gave up. That was when I started to paddle around and check things out. There were not as many water lilies on this lake as there were at the lake we went to last week. It was beautiful, with white lilies everywhere I looked. This time though I did not mind the lack of lilies because it made paddling easier and Turnpike is a much bigger lake, also my favorite.
When I paddle around checking things out, I have a tendency to get away from John. My imagination then goes on overdrive. I usually take a look back every now and again to make sure I can still see his kayak, tangerine color that it is. This is because I know that sooner or later the moment will come when I hear or see something move in the water and my mind instantly creates some kind of sea monster, ready to eat me. It is the same as when I am fishing and the hook gets caught on some weeds. I am reeling and my kayak is being pulled toward the weed as opposed to the hook coming out. I don’t like that feeling, being pulled towards the abyss of whatever lies underneath the water at that moment and my mind is telling me I am being pulled towards certain death.
See, there I go scaring myself again. Sometimes I wonder if I should write horror? Anyway, I don’t start running the minute my imagination starts. So I have plenty of time to be spooked, while paddling further away from John. You see, the monsters of the lake don’t come around when John is there. So the further away I get, the more I notice the sound of the silence, the splashing of my paddle. The swans on the other side of the lake, but I decided not to go see them yesterday. I paddled on away, looking at the trees that might make shade, the scattered lilies, the lily pads that can be hypnotizing to stare at. The sun baking down on me and I was so relaxed, forgotten about the monsters and where John might be. Relaxed enough to stop paddling and just rest with my legs up and my eyes closed, in the sun and that is when it happened. Just after I closed my eyes. It was a sound, something jumping in the water, but I saw nothing. That is when my imagination became to much, thoughts of being pulled under the water by some sea weed covered thing, yes, where is John, I turned and paddled, but not fast. Save some dignity, paddle slowly away from the monsters that live under the water. Or maybe the sun has sapped my energy, I don’t know.
So I stayed the rest of the time with John. Legs up, resting in my kayak, baking in the sun. Paddling just enough to keep up with him as he drifted from fishing spot to fishing spot. It was at that time that I began watching him. Thought maybe I might learn something. We will see next time, but the point I want to make is that as that time went by I started to get a resentment. John caught fish after fish as I sat there and watched. Somehow, that doesn’t seem fair.