The fishing expedition continued…

In case you missed the first installment of The Fishing Expedition, go check it out.  It has pretty pictures.

Okay, so we were fishing on Punderson Lake in a rented row boat…  And we started out on the water at about 9:24 am.  The man who rented us the boat and helped get us off from the docks tossed out the following sentence as we were pulling away, “Remember ladies, save some fish for the rest of us.”  Cute.  I almost called back to him that he needn’t worry because I couldn’t catch a fish to save my life, but I didn’t.  I figured S would catch a boat full of fish and I could pretend some of them were mine.

S likes to bait hooks.  Seriously, she likes it.  So I let her bait almost all of my hooks because I don’t so much like it.  I can do it, but she does it better and seems to like it, so I let her.  Don’t judge me.

I would also like to point out that I have not once mentioned the part where we put on sunscreen.  We didn’t.  Usually Swill lather up in the stuff if she is going to be out in the front yard for 10 minutes on a sunny day.  I rarely ever wear it unless I am at the beach and even then I resist.  Neither of us thought we would be out fishing all that long, so we didn’t think about sun protection.  I wore a sleeveless shirt so that I could get some sun on my arms.  S started out the day in a t-shirt, but by the end of the trip she had stripped down to a sports bra because it was so damned hot.

I put my first line in the water at 9:28 am.  I pulled it back out of the water with a fish attached at 9:31 am.  I am not kidding.  I am not embellishing.  It took a mere three minutes to hook this sunfish.

Yes, that bad boy is mine.  I caught the first fish of the day.  And I did it without even trying.  Really, I was just pulling my line back in so that I could cast off better and it just so happened that there was a fish on my hook.  I wish I could claim some special skill, but no.

It was about 45 minutes later when I reeled in this fish, which S informed me was a blue gill.  I have to believe here since I can only identify about three kinds of fish and only one of them would be found in a normal lake.

I post this picture to tell you that S is the one who pulls the hooks out of the fish and tosses them back in the water.  I can pull the hooks out and I have done it, but she has pretty much taken it on as her job and I let her.  Do not judge me.  She also talks to the fish while she is doing it… “It’s okay fish… You are so brave… Just another second and you’ll be back in the water…” 

We had really found a prime fishing spot because about five minutes after I caught that blue gill, I caught this catfish, the only lake fish I can identify.  S had yet to catch any fish and I think she was getting pretty salty about it.

No worries though… About three minutes later she pulled in this ugly little catfish.  When she was removing his hook, he chomped down on the pliers and then stabbed her in the hand with his fin.  Luckily she was wearing fish gloves so she didn’t get cut.

Yep, another blue gill for me.  It was like shooting fish in a barrel or something.

And here is another catfish that I caught.  Bigger and uglier than the first.

Here is a little blue gill that S caught.  You’d think it would make her less salty but no.  She called him “bait” and tossed him back in disgust.  While she was getting his hook out and holding him over the side of the boat another fish did jump up out of the water to eat him, which really did make him seem like bait.

I was worried that S was disappointed in the fishing expedition because she had only caught two fish to my eight fish, but no.  She was having a great time and was happy that I was finally catching fish and enjoying myself.  Sure, I got a little puffy, calling myself and “angler” and an “outdoorsman” but she enjoyed that too.

Who knew that the biggest fish was yet to come?  S was fighting with what she assumed was a large chunk of weeds on her line, but the way it was fighting caused me to grab our net.  I knew she had a fish and I knew it was going to be big.  It was.  It was a large catfish.  But before fully reeling him in and over my protests, S set her rod aside so she could read the regulations on keeping fish.  I thought for sure we were going to lose him.  When she realized we wouldn’t be breaking any laws, she got him up near the boat where I could scoop him up in the net.  She then scooped up some water in our fish bucket and I deposited her prize catch.

We named him Big Ugly.  After we got home, we measured him and he was 24 inches long.  Big enough to eat.  Neither S nor Ieat fish, but we had made a vow two years ago that if we ever caught a big enough catfish, we would take him home and cook him. 

So, S caught Big Ugly at 2:13 pmand we decided to call it a day and row back to shore.  We hadn’t been paying attention to the time and while I noticed that we were both turning red, I didn’t really think we had been out on the lake all that long.  But we had.  About five hours in the full sun with sun reflecting off of the water.

There will be more of this fish story…

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3 Responses

  1. […] If you are wondering why we are chopping up a fish, you should read Fishing Expedition and Fishing Expedition Continued… you know, so you don’t think we are just some fish sacrificing […]

  2. […] drive back out to Punderson Lake where we had such good fishing luck two weeks ago. It was too late in the evening to rent a row boat, so we went to the fishing pier by the […]

  3. Thanks for all of the fishing photos and commentary. When I was a boy we lived right next to a beautiful lake, Chazy Lake in the Adirondacks of upstate New York. As far as catfish goes, we had bulheads which are a variety of catfish. The biggest I ever saw was two pounds. Most were much smaller, but we caught thousands of them. There was no limit. Except in winter time, one or more of my thumbs or fingers was sore from having been punctured by the spines of bullheads. Dad showed me an easy way to skin them, and we all liked to eat them. We also had trout and perch. So I spent hundreds of hours over the tears fishing there and in other places.

    If we drove the back roads, we were soon in Canada near Hemmingford. There were many people in our area who were French-speaking. My dad spoke it fluently. Now, I live far away from there, but I still miss it.

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