An actual vacation.
Like get a critter sitter, get on a plane, and find myself several states away from home.
Strangely, though, I felt more at home than I do sometimes in my real home.
My big thrill this time around was going fishing. I've been wanting to go fishing for the last few trips to visit my friend "Portland" but it usually doesn't work out that way. Last time we managed to squeeze in a few hours of fishing on my last night in town - literally night, as in we didn't get started until almost 10:30 p.m. because of crazy work schedules. And I didn't have anything to show for it. My pitiful catch was a few puny bottom-feeders that necessitated the use of a needle-nose pliers to extract the hook so that you wouldn't get stung by their built-in defense mechanisms in their spiny fins.
This time was different. First of all, it was daylight hours. Secondly, it involved an actual boat. And thirdly, I have photographic proof of my more impressive catches. Portland unfortunately had to work, so her boyfriend "Jibstay" took me out as he had the day off. (BTW, I'm sensing a trend here. It's not the first time that Portland's significant other has taken me out because Portland had to work and her SO wanted to get out of the house. But that's a story for another day. At least she trusts me alone with her men.)
The day started slow, none of Jibstay's usual spots had much to offer. I even caught one of those lousy bottom feeders again.
And then, just when we were contemplating pulling up anchor and trying somewhere else, this redfish made the mistake of going after poor little bait perch on my line.
Thank goodness for cell phone cameras, because this fella was under the legal limit and got to swim another day. And yes, I had to be taught how to hold a fish, because those measly little bluegills and sunfish I caught as a kid are not exactly something you show off to the rest of the world.
That alone would have been enough to make my day, but no! When Portland finally got off of work it was time for round 2.
Jibstay knew of a spot where schools of fish would regularly come through about dusk. I wasn't sure what to expect since there were a few other boats already in the spot and not having much luck. Furthermore, it was a relatively high-traffic canal with the requisite holiday weekend idiots buzzing through and ignoring the no-wake courtesies that civil boaters observe. Just as another boat turned to come through the canal I started to reel in my line so it wouldn't get tangled in the passing motor. And at that moment, this drum took the stinky dead shrimp bait.
He put up a fight, and it must have been a good show because the boat that passed by us actually ran aground because the driver (captain? boater? I have no idea on the terms) was distracted by what was happening on our boat.
After properly sliming my shirt, this one was declared a keeper destined for the dinner plate. He was joined in the ice chest by a slightly smaller friend about an hour later.
There were a few more, certainly not worthy of capturing for digital eternity. Including a lousy bottom feeder. Somethings don't change.
Post Script: Drum are tasty, especially when cut into little pieces, battered, and fried.
Post-post Script: The only thing that would have made the day better was seeing that pontoon boat run aground. I was too busy fighting the drum.
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