There is something special about Saturday mornings at the camper when none of us need worry about getting up to go fishing. The four of us had indeed discussed the possibility of driving backwards out of the channel and into the big lake, deciding that it would be best that we not, for no other reasons than the obvious. Waking up at 0800 was a refreshing start that each of us needed, being able to do it up here together and with no other priorities on the table was a double-bonus.
Shortly after doing the morning coffee and breakfast thing (avocado toast = yum), Brianna and her mom left Curt and I at the trailer while they went over near Higgins Lake to hit up a craft store called Arney’s. What do boys do while girls are away? Drain and empty pee from the trailer, sweep off the front deck, and nap with the puppies – pretty solid start to the day. We were even able to get ahold of our boat mechanic and schedule a time for him to drop out and see what’s what with the boat.
Some might say that a boat motor unable to switch gears sucks, and they might be right. Our boat motor won’t get fixed until Friday morning, at the earliest, but our mechanic helped upgrade the situation for the week from sucky to slightly less sucky, by switching which gear our motor is stuck in. Yes, I know, I know, hold the applause, please! The boat is now stuck in forward instead of reverse. Not such a negligible difference when previously unviable plans that were once viable become viable once again!
Not only did Brianna, Curt, and I take the red lady out fishing tonight, we killed it. We started on the nearside of pike island, which showed little action for the first fifteen minutes or so, that is until Brianna caught a 13” largemouth bass. Not to be outdone, I followed Brianna’s catch with an opener of my own, an 18” pike! The night was looking very much like a non-pan fish kind of night, which is fine, just usually means we don’t have anything to take home for filleting. Whether by whim or by wisdom, Curt suggested we follow the northern shoreline back to port, stopping here and there to check for more gill beds. Curt’s advice changed everything about how the night was looking, as Brianna reeled in HUGE pumpkin bellied gills, one after another in a string of catches that would have made Jeremy Wade jealous. Curt and I caught a few as well, but mostly it was Brianna, her skills bumped us from zero fish up to nineteen fish in what couldn’t have been more than twenty to thirty minutes. As with all good things in life, violent delights have violent ends, and the fishing frenzy ended as dramatically as it had begun.
This night, this full mooned night, this full mooned night of driving our broken boat across a lake on nothing more than a prayer (though none of us are religious). We were the champions of this night. Sometimes a little less suck makes for a lot more fuck yeah.