The family took a little walk yesterday evening that ultimately ended up along the creek at my neighbors' house. As I stood by to make sure that Lincoln didn't tumble head first into the water, I noticed that creek chubs were swimming in and out from under the bottom of a cement retaining wall. We completed our walk and I suggested to Hayden and Luke that we grab a pole and see if we can catch some of them. They were pretty excited to give it a try and there was no way that Linc was staying home, so the whole family headed back over.
I dropped the baited hook down next to the opening where I saw the chubs earlier and immediately 3 or 4 of them shot out to grab it. I hooked one and let Luke hoist it up. Hayden was next. We dropped the bait down again when a monster of a creek chub came flying out, shot right past the worm, and smacked the small bobber on the surface. We eventually hooked that fish and I let Lincoln reel it up, but it dropped off and skidded down the wall. It suffered a little road rash, but it swam away looking healthy. We caught a nice half dozen before I started to get the feeling that Michelle was over it and ready to go home. With no need for bait in the near future, we let all of the fish go. I figured that now that I know where they are, I can drop a trap in there with a little puppy food and get all I need the night before my next trip. Nice to know I have easy access to such a valuable bait.
Each night when I put Luke to bed, he likes me to make up a story for him. When I finished my story last night I said something like, "You'll probably dream about creek chubs tonight, Luke." He immediately started dry heaving. I sat up and looked at him and asked, "What are you doing?" He said, "Dad, you almost made me throw up when you said that I was going to drink creek chubs." That kid kills me.
Showing posts with label Hayden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hayden. Show all posts
Friday, May 7, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Sophomore Blues
With minnows, gear, Gatorade, and snacks loaded on my back and in each of my hands, we headed out to my spot. The walk in is about a quarter mile. I tried to be patient as we slowly plodded along. Both kids went down hard at least once and I had to keep reminding them to stay on the snow covered sections. We eventually arrived at my little transition area drop off. I went to work setting up my tip-ups and two jigging rods. Besides the joy of hanging with my kids, bringing them along offers the opportunity to fish an additional 6 lines. I only made use of one line for each of them, figuring that we probably wouldn't stay a real long time.
I have to say that overall, the kids did really well. They both had every single pair of mittens that I packed for them wet within the first half-hour. My son couldn't stop reeling up the line on the jigging poles even though I told him repeatedly that I had them set just where I wanted them. He pouted and talked about wanting to go home a couple of times when I asked him to put the rod down. They both devoured their Gatorade and M & M's as soon as we got settled. But all in all, they stayed busy and simply had fun. My daughter showed a lot of interest in catching fish. She wanted to sit down and jig one of the poles, and she did a good job with it. When interest in the fishing waned, they wandered around and practiced "ice skating" in their boots. Best of all, they seemed to stay warm.
The trouble started when my daughter announced that she had to go to the bathroom. No problem at first. I grabbed some of the gear that I didn't need anymore, figuring that I could make my last trip off of the ice a little easier, and started back to the outhouse at the launch with both kids in tow. They were pretty horrified by the outhouse, but both kids successfully made water. Back we went. My boy, who at this point tends to be a bit of a couch potato, got a little whiny on me as we walked back to our spot. Wanting to keep him in the game, I put him on my shoulders for the majority of the walk. He enjoyed this. I was good with it until he began calling me his horsey and forbade me to speak because "horsies don't talk."
Here's the kicker. Within about 20 minutes of getting back to our spot, my daughter announced again that she had to go to the bathroom. I couldn't imagine making that journey all over again, and so soon. I also couldn't believe that she could have to go again so quickly. Horrible father that I am, I told her that there is no way that she could already have to go. I watched her dance for about 5 more minutes when I realized that this was the real deal and I'd better get her back to the outhouse. I told her to get a head start, I checked over our tip-ups and gear one more time, and then threw the boy back on my shoulders and headed out after her. I was fully aware that we were heading into the most productive time of the day, but I tried to ignore this thought as I walked away from my tip-ups and rods.
I rounded the corner into the public access site just in time to see her heading into the outhouse. The door didn't make it all the way closed before I could hear her wailing away. At first I thought that she was just singing, as she's prone to do, but I pretty quickly realized that the poor girl was sobbing and screaming, "I didn't make it!" at the top of her lungs. Just my luck, a couple of grizzly old ice fishermen were just getting back to their truck. You can be sure that they weren't used to witnessing the drama that a kindergarten age girl can produce when she finds herself suddenly soaked in her own urine. Feeling the burn of their glare on my back, I bent down to my daughter to try to comfort and quiet her. I wasn't successful at either. She only screamed louder. She wailed over and over, "I just peed on myself! I don't like it!"
Eventually, the gruff old boys moved on and I had my daughter calmed down to a whimpering mass of misery. Still, there I was with a wet daughter, a boy who was quickly catching his sister's defeated spirit, and all of my stuff a quarter mile away on the ice. I decided that I'd better just lock them in my Jeep and get my gear as quickly as I could.
Ever notice that hurrying makes you go slower? I got two of my tip-ups tangled up, so I had to just throw the mess into my bucket. My answer to the 8 pound test on my jigging poles, mentioned in an earlier entry, was to go to 20 pound Berkley Vanish. What a mistake! That stuff was literally jumping off of my reels in huge loops, even with the bail closed. Of course, my worst tangle came when I was trying to hurry back to my kids. I took out the scissors and made fast work of it. I've since changed those reels out with 50 pound Power Pro. We'll see how that works. With fleeting disappointment over what a bust this trip turned out to be, I quickly made my way back to my kids.
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