Priorities and Battered Parts

Today was the first day of Handsome's summer vacation, and it was a hot one. When I got out of work, I took him to a pond that is relatively near the house (read: only 15 minute's drive) that has a boat ramp that the locals swim off of. I told him we were going to be there for an hour, hour and a half maximum. I had stuff to get done around the house. We pulled up at about 6 PM, and we were the only ones there. Handsome went straight in the water while I took out one of those fishing rods that are my constant travel companions. I had some worms left over from yesterday, so I threw on a bobber and made a cast.
Bang!
First cast, caught a pretty little bluegill.  Yay me! I made a few more casts, but I had a big hook on there for sunfish. Too big, it turned out. They kept nibbling the bait right off the hook. I put the rod aside and jumped in the water with Handsome.  We swam. We wrestled. We splashed and played full bore for about an hour. Handsome hit me in the nuts, as he seems to be required to do whenever we play in the water.
Not once, not twice, but thrice.
Ouch?
At about 7:15 I hobbled out of the water to dry off and start getting ready to get him home.
"You have about 15 minutes, and then we have to go, right?" I said, my voice slightly higher than usual due to the testicular trauma. "I have stuff to get done about the house, so we can't stay here all night, okay?"
"Okay, Dad!"
Excellent. I gathered all the stuff together and put it back in the jeep, getting ready to go. I had stuff to do.
The last thing I was putting back in the jeep was the rod I had been casting with. Just for the hell of it I cut off the medium sized hook I had on there and put on a much smaller one, one that was appropriate for panfish, or sunfish. I made a cast and caught a fish. The smaller hook made a huge difference.
Now I had caught two fish, and I was ready to go. Handsome saw me catch that second fish and said "Can I try?"
"Sure," I answered. "But you have to make it quick, we're supposed to be leaving now, so I can get some stuff done."
He made a cast, and caught a fish. He made another cast, caught another fish. He made a third cast with he same worm on there, and caught a third fish.
"That must be a lucky worm!" I said. I went to the jeep and got out Handsome's fishing rod and started casting with it. I caught fish. They were all sunfish until Handsome caught a little bass. Then he caught another. Eventually I caught one too.
We worked that boat ramp, he to one side and I to the other, until we ran out of worms, and I had more than 20 when we started out. That was when I went to the jeep to check the time and said "Whoa! Handsome, we have to go!"
"What's the matter, Dad?"
"It's almost 8:30! No wonder it's starting to get dark!"
We jumped in the jeep, me moving awkwardly due to my battered parts.
Did I get anything done that I meant to tonight?
No.
Instead, I caught fish!

Hey, I have my priorities ... and a strange soreness when I walk.

Talk to you later!

Four Goals

When we got the canoe to the river, I had certain goals.

1. Have a good time
2. Get Handsome some exercise
3. Catch some fish
4. Keep Handsome's sneakers dry

How did we do?

1. Have a good time:
   -Yes. Handsome was actually fishing with me. He suggested a fishing competition, which I took him up on. He was choosing the spots to stop, he was choosing which way to go. Somewhere in there the two of us had a world-class splash-fight, the two of us whaling away at the water with the paddles after I “accidentally” splashed him with water while paddling. A few times. All in all we were on the water for a little more than three hours, I think, and a good time was had by all. Both. Whatever.
   
2. Get Handsome some exercise:
   - Not so much. Oh, sure, during our splash-fight he wielded a paddle with wild abandon and a certain amount of joy, but paddling from place to place … not so much. He did do a lot of waiting until I had built up a good head of steam and then shoving the blade of the paddle into the water at an angle to see if he could make a little rooster-tail. Sometimes he did make the water arc through the air like that, but more often than not he just sent us veering off towards a bank or into a submerged log. I was getting exercise, though...
   
3. Catch some fish:
   - Not so much on this one either. Not a fish was seen at all, in fact. We did hook a few trees, and once Handsome actually managed to wrap up two completely separate trees at the same time. That has to be one for the record books. Handsome lost two bobber and hook set-ups, each too high in a tree to reach from a canoe. He seems to have the strange habit of aiming at a spot that is only 10 – 15 feet away and winding up to cast like he is aiming for the other side of the Earth. I did have a bobber come off my line, somehow, but we pulled up the anchor and tracked it down. That part was actually fun.
   But for all that fishing, no fish. Again.
   
4. Keep Handsome's sneakers dry:
   -It was so close! He insisted on wearing his sneakers rather than leaving them in the jeep to stay dry. They stayed dry through all the canoeing. They stayed dry through all the fishing. They even stayed miraculously dry during our huge splash-fight! We had gotten all the way back to the Jeep, and were unloading the canoe for the ride home, and he wanted to show me something. A spider, I think. All of the sudden, SPLASH! A two-footed leap, landing right in the river.
   Did he apologize for it?
   Yes.
   Could he explain how he wound up jumping in the river, when I had just told him to be careful and keep those sneakers dry?
   Nope.

So, four goals, but only one of them met. At least a good time was had by all.

Both.

Whatever.

Talk to you later!

Here, Fishy, Fishy, Fishy!

Last night I put my son, Handsome, to bed and took a little nap with him. It wound up being a little more than an hour. I left there at about 10:30 an headed for home to get all my stuff ready. I got everything prepared in advance, and in the Jeep. That way when it was time to go I could just get in and turn the key. I sat down and wrote my blog, and if you read it then you know that yesterday I was writing about having a hard time staying awake at the library.

Ha! Little did I know...

So anyway, I finished and posted yesterday's blog entry and then I cruised about the internet for a while, just kind of killing time. I watched an episode of “Archer” the show that's on FX, had myself a sandwich, and drank some Hydrive. I kept checking the time. Just in case, I set the alarm clock. If I did fall asleep, I didn't want to over-sleep, and miss my chance. I did use that alarm to get myself another half-hour nap before 2 am arrived. That's when I got in the jeep and took off running.

Fishing for Stripers.

I got to my spot, well, as close to my spot as you can get to with a car, and walked the rest of the way in. A mile up the railroad tracks, in the dark, at 2:30 in the morning. Alone. Boy, it's a good thing I don't have a vivid imagination, huh?

Right.

So I made my way to my spot, and stayed there for three hours. High tide was at 4:35am, so I had an hour and a half of the incoming tide and the same for the outgoing. I fished two different spots in the area, one for the incoming, one for the outgoing, moving all my gear on the slack tide. At each spot I cut up a bunch of old bait I had, chopping it pretty fine and trying to chum the area with it. My hands got fairly nasty, and I dulled up my knife doing all this.

My reward for all this effort, the drive, the hike, the chumming of the waters, the keeping two rods running?

Not a damn thing.

In the past in this area I have seen crabs, a few eels, tons of baitfish, one shark (which I tried to catch, but with no luck), not to mention quite a few Stripers.

This morning, nothing.

The residents in the area, if they were awake early enough, were treated to the sight of me standing at the shoreline, throwing handsfull of chopped up fish-parts into the sea, and calling “Here, fishy, fishy, fishy!”

It didn't work.

The saying goes that there is a fine line between fishing and just standing on the shore like an idiot. I left the house with the intention of doing the former, but wound up doing the latter. And the best part was showing up to work on about 2 hours of sleep, reeking of fish (from cutting up the bait) and having people ask me how I did.

“The only bites I got were from the mosquitoes,” I said. They look at my glassy eyes and they notice my hands, scalded red from scrubbing the bait-stink off as much as I can.

“Well, I don't know how you do it. You wouldn't catch me out there like that!”

No. Apparently I don't catch anything out there like that. Thanks for reminding me. I don't tell them that it takes a special breed of idiot to go stand on the shore in the middle of the night, hoping to God it turns into fishing.

I can't wait to go again!

Talk to you later!

Meteorological Accountability?

It's raining.
It was supposed to rain, but not right off. It was supposed to be a little crappy in the morning (Okay, they were calling it overcast  rather than crappy, but it amounts to the same thing) and rain in the afternoon sometime. It wasn't supposed to rain first thing in the morning and keep on all day.
But it did.
If you look in the back of my jeep, you will see two hanging racks, one front one back, upon which rest 6 fishing rods. This is not unusual, as there are always fishing rods in the back of the jeep. There have been as many as 20 or so, but that was for a special trip. 6 is about usual for me, just in case the opportunity arises.
I like to fish.
If you look on the back of my jeep you will see a 14 foot, three-man canoe strapped down to the roof-rack. One strap front, one back, with an extra safety line in the rear just in case it decides to leave without me on a turn. Hasn't happened yet, and I've driven with the thing up there at speeds in excess of 75 mph, but just in case...  The canoe being up there is a little unusual.
It's the weekend, and Handsome is with me. Looking for something to do with him, I thought of fishing.
I know. A guy who drives around carrying 6 fishing rods, just in case, thought of fishing. Go figure.
So yesterday I checked the weather. Overcast in the morning followed by rain in the late afternoon/evening. Chance of rain 30%.
Huzzah!  I thought,  I can work with that!
So, while I was at the House that Once Was Mine, I grabbed the flotation vests. I grabbed the paddles. I grabbed the anchor. I took the EZ Transport cart that really needs one tire blown up again before I strap it to the canoe and try to pull it anywhere. Then I grabbed the 14 foot, 90 lb, 3 man canoe, wrestled it onto the jeep roof and strapped it down. I was like the Grinch stealing Christmas, grabbing all the boxes and bags; I was actually looking to grab the Roast Beast. Handsome's fishing rod is one of the 6, so I was totally good to go for a morning canoe trip. Just drive out to the river, slap the boat on the water, and bang, fishing time's a go!
Then this morning came.
I stood there in the kitchen with the container of pancake mix in hand (yes, the pancakes have been fine, I have never had a replay of the Breakfast Gone Horribly Wrong), looking out the window at the rain pounding on the underside of my canoe as it lay there strapped to my jeep roof. I was picturing the meteorologist who made the forecast that I read yesterday sitting in his own kitchen. Eating his own pancakes. Looking out his own window. Seeing his own rain. In my mind, he looked smug. In my mind, he was unapologetic. In my mind he gazed out the window and said "whoops" with a smile, as he picked up the syrup.
In my mind, I entered his kitchen. In my mind, when he looked surprised to see me, I told him not to worry one bit, that there was just a 30% chance that I was going to key his car in the afternoon or evening, and no chance that I had just done it as I walked by the car on the way to his door. I said not to worry, that there was no chance at all that I had slipped ipicac into his syrup, and just a 30% chance that I had slipped anything else in there. And then, in my mind, as he began to look panicked, grabbed his stomach and vomited explosively onto his own breakfast table, I smiled, and looked smug, and said "whoops!"

"What?"
"Huh?" I said.
Handsome had come into the kitchen, looking for breakfast, as I stood there gazing out the window, lost in thought.
"You said 'whoops'."
"I did?"
"Yeah. What's so funny?"
"Huh?"
"Upstairs you were sad 'cuz of the rain. Why are you smiling now?"
"Uh ... I just love you, Handsome. Pancakes?"
"Yeah, sure."
He was looking at me oddly, and I guess I don't blame him. I have a powerful imagination, and it helps me with my writing. He has a good one too, and I figure he was trying to imagine why I would be staring out at the rain, smiling and talking to myself. I don't know if it would have comforted him to have me explain it.
Could I explain it?

Whoops!

The canoe is still up there, and I'll see what the sky is doing tomorrow morning. In the meantime I'll just go to bed and dream of things unheard of. Like meteorological accountability.

Meteorological accountability? Wow, I really do have a hell of an imagination!

Talk to you later!

P.S. - I almost forgot! If you'd like to guide me toward writing something funny, then please take a poke at the poll in the upper right of your screen. I actually do have funny stories, and you can help me choose one to tell you!

ttyl!

4 Hours on the Big Thompson

I went fly fishing on the Big Thompson river in Colorado today. It was a guided trip, half day, out of Kirk's Fly Shop, in Estes Park. Had a great time. They supplied all the gear, rods and waders, stuff like that. I had a great time from the start. Fitting me for waders, the guys were discussing my weight. One said I was about 194 lbs, the other said I was closer to 200. "You're both light," I said. "I'm about 212, last time I weighed myself." I pointed at the 194 guy. "But I WISH I was 194!"
I found out later that the guy who guessed 194 was C-, and he was my guide for the day. He told me later that he was trying to get up to 150 lbs. He's at about 140 now. #$%hole!
There was one other guy who went with us. For our purposes here, his name was E-. E- fly fishes a lot, and had all his own stuff. When we got to the first spot of the day, he put on his own waders, and started to unpack his rod.
"You sure you wanna do that?" said C-. He wiggled one of Kirk's rods at E-. "This is an $800 rod here..."
E- put his own rod away, while I quietly freaked out. An $800 rod? The one I've tried to teach myself on at home cost about $30. I almost had to tell him I was going to have to keep the waders...
We hit a few spots on the river, and I had a great time. I had never fished wet-flies before, but C- was patient, and eventually I started to get the hang of the roll cast. Watching the bobber for the tiny little strikes still almost eluded me. 
Eventually I started to get the slightest hint of the hang of that as well. My total catch for the day:

• 10 bottom bound sticks
•  21 rocks
•  3 trees 
•  2 fishing guides... 
•  and 4 rainbow trout

Okay, both of the fishing guides were C-, but since I fish catch-and release anyway, I figure he counts. Both times he had netted a fish for me and forgot to make sure all the hooks were out of the mesh before he started to wade away. But what the hell, I figure I can claim I took two 140 pounders out of the Big Thompson! Not many people can claim that! Under the circumstances, even fewer would. 

I had a great time. I'll do it again. 

Someday.

Talk to you later!