WELCOME TO MY WORLD

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Any time I can escape to the great outdoors, whether for fishing, hunting or just plain R&R (rest and relax) I am gone.  To have a week or sometimes more, in one location, is a true bonus.  But it is always best to enjoy my world one day at a time as you never know what the new day will bring, or take.

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Last summer we were at one of our favourite lakes.  The weather except for a couple real windy days had been fantastic.  A couple of hot days had forced me to join my wife and our dogs on several dips in the cool refreshing waters, once you got past the warm shallows.  The dogs had spent those days, tongues hanging out, hiding under the camper.  I would have joined them there but I just don’t fit.

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The fishing had been slow but steady enough to get a couple feeds of pickeral, fried in butter and also the beer batter that my wife prefers.  Campfires in the cooler evenings had been marred by the local insect population only a couple of times, and pest repellent had done the job.  These campfires were my wife’s reason for camping; she could lovingly tend the fire, staring into its depths for hours on end.  Then the inevitable wieners or smokies and maybe a baked potatoe or two would have to be done.  The dogs were as patient as I was waiting for these midnight snacks.  There was no worry about leftovers.

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If we are at any of the lakes in this area we like to drive, every 4^th or5th day to a Provincial Park where for two bucks a day per vehicle we can shower, refill our water containers and leave our garbage in their disposal.  A deal like that is rare in today’s profit orientated world.  Then we would drive into the nearby town for fresh ice and food supplies.  That way we didn’t have to take any chances on spoiled food from warm coolers.  Take out ice creams for everyone including the dogs was a regular treat of these trips.

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A couple nights later over bar-b-qued rib steaks and baked potatoes we decided that with bad weather forecast we would fish in the morning have a final fish feed in the evening and pack up the following day.  There is nothing more miserable than packing a tent trailer in the rain and having to open it up as soon as you get home so it will dry without mildew on the canvas.  A steady rain was being forecast for the Saturday and Sunday that would have been our last day anyway.

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In the morning a light chop was on the water with the sun hiding behind clouds in a game of peek-a-bo.  In other words perfect pickeral weather.  Within ten minutes of starting to troll on one shoreline we had boated three fat 2 pound pickeral.  We decided to keep trolling and the fish definitely cooperated that morning.  Our stringer when we got to my live trap had eight golden beauties the smallest was a pound and a half, the largest turned out to be he first one we caught, slightly over two pounds.

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I took the fish of the stringer and one at a time placed them in my wire live trap.  I closed the door and put the hook catch on, pulling it once, as was my custom for the last fifteen years.  My nametag, a legal requirement, was in place.  I lowered the trap into about fourteen feet of water. There the pickeral would be shaded from the sunlight and the water was cool so they would stay in good shape.  The rope was knotted to a bright red four-litre plastic oil jug. 

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On shore we had our usual late breakfast.  The lateness of the previous nights campfire and the early morning start brought out the yawns in everybody after the second cup of coffee.  We sawed logs for a couple hours until woke up by the dogs�?nature call.  In view of departure on the following day I did some packing and finally at about five, after some wifely prompting, jumped into the boat to get three of our pickeral for a batch of beer batter.

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Once at the jug I thought it was a little too close to shore but discounted that as I started to pull up the trap.  When I couldn’t feel the fish thrashing against the trap on the lift I thought that they had all died, a very unusual thing.  When the trap was in sight I couldn’t believe what I saw.  The trap was empty.  The catch was hanging by it’s little piece of rope, the door wide open.

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Somebody had helped themselves to our fish, in the middle of the day!  Someday, somewhere I’ll hear about how good fishing was at that lake, if two people were involved the truth will come out. 

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When you enter my world come as you are and enjoy the experience.  The sad truth is that there will always be those who figure that the world owes then things for free, never mind who it might inconvenience or hurt.  Thankfully in my world those types of *)*^&#%$@^’s are rare minority.