Outwrite Outdoors

We each walked stiff-legged into the store like some sort of Frankenstein monsters. Small children ran away squealing but mostly out of laughter. Hadn’t they seen red men before? Didn’t their parents ever tell them not to make fun of other’s misfortune? I had a mind to track down the moms and dads and give them a piece of my mind, but the most important thing was finding where they kept the aloe cream in this particular store.

You ever have one of those summer days when it’s cold, rainy and overcast so you take no precautions against sunburn? Then it happens. The clouds partway to the sun and the temperature goes from sixty to eighty in minutes. But you don’t seem to notice. At least I didn’t seem to notice, nor did Josh. Maybe because we were doing what we do best. No, not screwing up; we were fishing.

It was one of those rare good days too. It had started with us being driven off of Lake Huron by high winds and higher waves. We moved our plan of attack to a backwater lake on the Au Sauble River. Fishing stunk when we got there but soon the clouds parted and the fish decided to grace us by attacking just about anything we threw at them.

The lake was surrounded by tree-covered hills and if you didn’t see the dam at one end, you’d think it was just some quiet lake hidden in the hills of the Michigan countryside. We had gone to Josh’s mother’s house in Tawas for the weekend. For those of you who don’t know your lower Michigan geography, hold your fingers together and look at your right hand, palm side up. Tawas is located right around the first joint of your index finger. We borrowed a boat from one of Josh’s uncles. It was fairly small but would work for us. Plus since it wasn’t either of ours, it had a running motor, a full gas tank, a charged battery and two new oars. We stashed our own landing nets under the bench seats just to be on the safe side.

I was wearing typical summer attire, which consisted of shorts and a t-shirt as well as sandals. If fact I had been wearing sandals everyday for so long that I had year-round tan lines crossing the tops of my feet. Josh’s step dad laughed when he saw me walking around with bare feet. He said I had "racing stripes" on my feet for when I had to run. Josh wore a tank top shirt and cut off jeans. He had just gotten out of the military so he still wore a crew cut hairstyle. Since he seemed to have never heard of the invention of sun block, his head was a bright shade of red each summer. I had come prepared for this weekend’s fishing excursion though. I bought a brand new bottle of SPF thirty sun block that I put into my tackle box so there would be no way I‘d forget it. We loaded the truck with lunches, our grossly over-sized tackle boxes, more fishing poles than were even close to necessary and ourselves. For once, we had forgotten nothing. Plus, we heard of massive catches of walleyes occurring lately. It was going to be a good day after all.

I looked at Josh from the front of the boat as we started our fishing adventure. Yes, it was an adventure, or it would be. They always turned out to be some kind of adventure. Doomed trips up Mount Everest where everyone dies are still adventures of some sort.

"Damn man," I said. "I wish the friggin’ sun would come out."

Josh looked up into the gloomy sky. "Nah, walleyes like it better when the weather sucks. Trust me."

"Trust you? Sheeet Don’t you recall our steelhead trip a few years back?"

"Don’t you recall the first time we went fishing together?"

"That was not my fault."

"Sure it wasn’t."

"Bite me."

"Bare it and share it you little bitch."

"Already did with your wife just before we left."

"She does appreciate the little things in life."

"Must be why she married you, tiny."

"Hey it works just fine for me."

"Yeah, you’ll be surprised when you see that Brandon ends up looking like me."

"I did notice that after you were over the last time that the dog is pregnant."

"It was better looking than your wife."

"Shut up and drop the anchor."

I slid the anchor over the side of the boat and let the rope fall freely between my hands. It hit the bottom twenty feet down with a slight thud that echoed up through the anchor rope and I let out a few more feet of the line before tying it off to a cleat. The mild current created by the dam slowly pulled the slack out. We both quietly set about rigging our rods. Josh was the first to cast. I followed, casting to the opposite side of the boat. Josh settled back into the seat a little and opened a can of pop, a sigh of relaxation escaping from his mouth. I scanned the lake for other boats and not seeing any, relaxed a little. There is a mild anxiety that comes when fishing. You never know when that fish is going to strike. A gentle breeze twitched the rod tips and the line that seemed to evaporate into the surface of the lake.

Time passes slower when you’re fishing. It’s as if nature is telling you that this is how life is supposed to be spent. Worries fade away and minutes and hours melt into nothing. Still there is a reminder of purpose. A feeling in the pit of the stomach. It starts as a tingling sensation that moves to needles, building to agitation sometimes when the fish won’t cooperate.

Images of world-class walleyes filled my head as we sat there. Originally, I had enough control not to break the moment. I just felt it. But I was like a kid the night before Christmas. Yeah it was nice and all, but let’s get to the presents. I had to do something.

"Man, your sister has a nice ass," was all I could come up with.

Josh laughed a little and looked like he was about to say something when the smile on his face changed from sarcasm to serious fun. I hadn’t noticed his line going taunt. He jerked the rod tip upward and set the hook. A swirling, darting beast caused the drag on the reel of Josh’s rod to give, giving more line and leverage to the hidden creature. Josh kept the rod tip high and applied pressure. I quickly reeled in my own line and set about to help Josh land the fish.

"Feels like a walleye, and a big one at that," he said.

"You want the net?"

"Yeah. Better grab it. I don’t want to loose this one."

Through the water, I could see the line starting to come in. The back of the fish slowly emerged from the depths and I scooped it up in the net. Usually at this point the two great anglers look at the prize thrashing in the net and congratulate one another on the fine catch. We didn’t do that. Instead we looked at the rather small but beautiful fish thrashing in the net.

"What’s the legal size?" I said.

"Twelve inches."

"That ain’t twelve inches."

"Yeah."

"I thought you said it was a big one?"

"It felt like one at the time."

"Do you know what a big one feels like?"

"Yeah, of course I do."

"I’m not talking about your sexual preference."

"Shut up or you’ll find out what my shoe feels like up your butt."

"Again with the anal fixation."

"What was that about my sister’s ass?"

We got the undersized walleye back into the water and it swam away to grow some more. The clouds started parting and sunlight cracked through, illuminating different sections of the lake with moving beams of bright summer light and heat.

"It looks like the weather is finally going to clear up," Josh said.

"‘Bout damn time. It is July and all."

"Walleyes won’t bite when the sun is bright."

"Uh bass will."

"Yeah, there’s some good bass fishing back in the shallow parts of this place."

"Let’s go and get there then."

"Pull the anchor up, I’ll get the motor going."

By the time we have moved down a ways, the sun beat away the clouds and the wind died down to a gentle caressing breeze. The temperature elevated to a very warm but comfortable level. We eased the boat into a wide, shallow bay. Josh cut the motor and let the boat glide to a stop almost in the center. We both stood and donned polarized glasses that cut the glare off the water and allow you to see the structure under the water as well as fish that were hopefully there.

"There’s one! A big hawg too," I exclaimed.

"Yeah, I see some over by that downed tree too."

I scooped up my casting rod and checked the small silver spoon tied to the end of the line before I made my cast. The line sailed in a high arch before dropping the lure just a few feet beyond the fish. A perfect cast. I cranked the handle a few times and twitched the rod a bit. The fish exploded, engulfing the spoon and erupted out of the surface of the water, as I pulled back hard on the rod. The fish darted in many directions while I reeled it to the boat. In the characteristic fashion, I reached down and slipped my thumb into the bass’ mouth and lifted it by the bottom jaw. I grunted slightly at the fish’s five pounds of weight. Bass seem to relax when they are lifted in this manner, which was good for me because I didn’t think my grip was too good. I didn’t want to injure it before I could release it.

"Asshole," Josh shouted.

"Get fishin’ bubba."

Josh had to re-tie his line and missed the first cast. We always had an unspoken competition to see who would have the first cast whenever we went fishing or moved the boat. His fumbling with his line had given the honor to me and I had reaped the rewards.

I cradled my now unhooked bass over the side of the boat and rocked it back and forth until it rejuvenated. It flicked its tail hard against the surface and splashed water on my and then darted quickly for the comfort of the lake bottom and the vegetation that provided needed cover.

Josh’s first cast in our new location resulted in a similar action to mine. His fish was slightly smaller but the excitement was equal. It seemed that with each cast, we caught fish. I was using a small, generic silver spoon while Josh chose a spinner. I had had the spoon for quite a while and it was one of my favorite lures. It’s small size and action created an irresistible combination for many fish. Or maybe it was just lucky.

As I reeled in my fifth fish on as many casts, I turned to Josh and wondered at the chances that we would have done so well had the weather not changed.

"Doubt it. When we plan something, it always falls to shit."

"Well this rules, man. We rule!"

My next beautiful, high arching cast flung my lucky spoon five feet past the fish I saw lazily basking in the sun. Unfortunately, that was two feet too far. I watched helplessly as the small, bright lure disappeared into the dark tangle of limbs and roots of a drowned tree trunk. I flicked my wrist, hoping to flip the lure back out without the barbed hooks digging into the wood. No such luck. It buried itself deeply and my resulting pulls were a fruitless effort. The line, weary from the strain of the battle, snapped with a loud crack. Josh laughed at me as the limp line settled onto the surface of the water.

"Bonehead!"

"If you have the time, would you mind kissing my ass?"

"For an ass as big as yours, no, I don’t have the time."

"Well shit."

"What are you complaining for? You caught a bunch of nice fish already."

"I know; I just liked that spoon."

"So find another one."

"I don’t think I have anything like it."

"Give me a minute, I’ll check my box."

"Sure, but what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I’m doing?" With that, Josh stood close to the edge of the boat and relieved himself. He ignored the well-known, documented, scientific fact that peeing over the side of your boat is extremely bad luck when fishing.

"Well there you go. Might as well go home now."

"What are you complaining about now?"

"You. You just ruined the fishing for the day."

"How so?"

"You don’t just pee over the side of the boat."

"Why not?"

"It’s bad luck dumb ass."

"So what was I supposed to do?"

"How the hell do I know?"

"Well it’s your rule."

"It’s not my rule. It is a well know law of fishing."

"Well, it isn’t even noon yet and we have to drive all the way back home tonight, I ain’t going to stop fishing yet. Quit bitching."

"Hey, I didn’t say a damn thing about quitting, I just said that we ain’t going to catch any more fish, thanks to you and your urinary movements."

We both laughed and talked aver what we were going to do for lunch, which we had in the cooler. I rummaged through my tackle box while Josh cast at a shadow swimming to the rear of the boat. My tackle box was crammed with all kinds of things and sweat from my head seeped into my eyes making it difficult to see. Damn it was hot. There were spinner baits and crank baits, rubber worms and jig grubs but no spoons like the one I lost. Bottles of attractant scent and sunscreen were pushed aside in the search. I finally settled on a small perch-imitating bait, dejected that I couldn‘t replace my lost lucky spoon. I looked back at Josh as he made his fifth cast at the mysterious fish behind the boat.

"What’s going on?"

"Damn fish won’t take my lure."

"Shouldn’t have pissed in the water."

"Would you shut up before I make you my bitch."

"You never listen to me."

"You sound like my wife."

"See? You already made me your bitch."

We both laughed.

Later as the sun stretched the shadows of the trees lining the shore into fingers pushing us toward the boat dock, I got Josh to admit that maybe he shouldn’t have peed into the lake. We hadn’t caught another fish.

After dropping off the boat and securing the much need aloe cream, the cab of Josh’s truck filled with tension.

"And where was this sun block you supposedly brought?"

"Uhhh I don’t know."

"I thought you said you put it someplace where we would have it when we needed it?"

"I did."

"Then where was it?"

"In my tackle box."

"It was in your tackle box?"

"Yeah."

"The whole time?"

"Yeah."

"Didn’t you notice it in there?"

"Um, maybe."

"And you just decided to what? Not use it?"

"Hey… you could have reminded me."

"Oh don’t pin this on me."

"I’m just saying…"

"Yeah, you’re just saying what?"

"Hey look, we’re back at your house."

We got out of the truck and were met in the yard by Josh’s sister.

"You guy’s have fun," she asked.

"Oh yeah," I said.

"Catch anything?"

"Well I caught several really nice bass," I said as I took off my sunglasses.

She giggled and said, "My, those are some really cool racing stripes you’ve got there."

I looked at Josh who laughed too until he removed his own glasses to reveal the white stripes down the temples of his head. I knew from his look that I had identical stripes of my own. Humility settled in quick enough and I hobbled into the house, my feet sunburned too.

"Oh, Derrek thinks you have a nice ass," Josh called to his sister who mumbled a "thank you" in my direction and kept going.

I gave him a solitary finger salute. "Did you have to do that?"

"Now we’re even," Josh said.

"Even for what?"

"The suntan lotion…"

"Oh come on, it not like I forgot the oars in the boat or something."

"You’re still trying to pin that on me?"

"Hey… you rushed me."

"Shut up, lets go inside get something to eat and then get going. My wife is going to kill me for being late as it is."

"Don’t worry. I’ll make her feel all better."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, in your dreams."

"Hey man," I said. "Another typical Sigler-Mead outing, huh?"

"Well I don’t know. Things didn’t go too bad."

"Yeah, we didn’t get skunked."

"No we sure didn’t."

"For a change…"

"Ha ha, yeah. Things are starting to look up my friend."

"I’ll second that. Maybe our luck’s about to change? Now, what’s for dinner?"