This has been quite a Summer for adventures. The fishing is a lot more complex than I thought it was most times. At other times it's as simple as dropping your bait in the water and pulling it right out again. The last trip to a little known and not often traveled spot lead me to that conclusion.
The second I dropped my line in something bit. And then it dragged my bobber under and away. I started reeling for all I am worth. You know that moment when the guys on the sport fishing show get all excited and start shouting? That moment is quickly followed by a fish on the line, leaping out of the water with a wiggle and a waggle and a strenuous attempt to break free of the hook. I had THAT moment.
It was a bigger panfish than I had on the line than ever before. And now that I've said panfish you know we are not talking high seas marlin fishing. Just little bitty baby fish fishing in little bitty lakes. Well... this thing broke out of the water. As it came to the top of it's arc everything seemed to move in slow motion, like cresting the hill on a rollercoaster or that pre-zen nano second that comes before an epiphany.
"Oh my GOD! I'm actually catching a fish! A fish worth keep.... ing."
The split second that time caught up to itself and assumed it's normal pace the fish was free of the hook, my bait was gone and bob's your uncle. Gone. In less than 60 seconds it was gone.
"Fucker!" I yelled and turned right around determined to bait that hook and get another drop in before he scuttled into the dark recesses of a lily pad field.
Bait. Drop. Repeat.
After several more casts all I got was smallest panfish that I've ever caught. Skeletor wouldn't have noticed it in his gullet.
They say that fishing is relaxing. It is not. Reading, painting (sometimes) and listening to music are relaxing. Trying to out smart a fish is as frustrating as getting a toddler out of the costume he or she wants to wear to school in direct violation of every word of a dress code and adult sense of aesthetic.
There is always next time. I guess.