Another fish story

This morning I woke up at 6:55 a.m. I jumped out of bed and looked out of the window. The weather people had predicted rain, but everything looked dry outside, so I decided to go fishing for a couple of hours. I quickly got dressed, brushed my teeth, washed my face but didn’t bother shaving or combing my hair. I was going to wear a cap anyway. I needed to get away quickly so I could get to Lockport early enough to get a good spot. Fishermen are early risers.

I rushed down the stairs into the basement to get the frozen pieces of meat that I used for catching Goldeye. Being in a hurry, I neglected to turn on the light in the storage room. I opened the door to the fridge-freezer to get the small container with the meat.

I should have known then and there that it wasn’t going to be a good day for fishing. For some reason my wife kept a container of frozen milk in that freezer. Why? I don’t know. That’s how the Universe works. It should have been in the big freezer, which is right next to the fridge.

One liter of frozen milk has the same qualities as one liter of frozen water. It becomes a piece of hard rock. As I opened the door, something fell out of the freezer and landed on my big toe. It was the carton of frozen milk. One liter weighs about one pound. That’s one pound of rock hitting your toe from about 5 feet up.

As the pain shot through my body, I limped to the bathroom and filled the sink with ice-cold water. I put my foot with the hurting toe into this cold water and remained like that for about 5 minutes. I didn’t have much time, because I needed to get to my fishing spot.

The pain subsided and I left. I made it to Lockport by 7:30. A little later than planned, but when I got to Lockport I couldn’t believe my luck. There were already a few anglers there, but nobody was fishing near the wall, the coveted spot. So I quickly set myself up and began fishing.

I tried different jigs, tried fishing with a float and a piece of meat on the hook, but no fish. Actually, that is not quite true. I didn’t catch any Sauger or Goldeye, but I caught one large Freshwater Drum and one huge something. It could have been a catfish. I fought it for about 10 minutes, determined to land it and see what I caught, but I finally lost it. It will remain a mystery forever.

Slowly, more anglers arrived and a few of them did catch fish. Reluctantly, I gave up my good spot and moved about 100 feet downstream, where I had been watching a group of anglers catching fish. The problem there is that the riverbed is rocky and it is easy to lose the jigs. Well, I promptly got caught among the rocks with my first cast and lost my jig. Annoying, but I had more. By nine o’clock I phoned my wife and told her that I was staying a bit longer. I was determined to catch something.

Another angler arrived and started fishing on my left side. He asked how I was doing. I told him not great. He said he was told the fish are biting. I told him not for me. He caught his first sauger with his third cast. When I asked him what he was using, he showed me a jig with a green soft body. He then offered me one if I didn’t have any. Filipino people are like that. I thanked him and said I had plenty of green soft bodies, along with brown ones, black ones, orange ones, yellow ones, and more colors. I had tried them all, but none of them had worked for me so far.

The frustrating thing was to see the guy on the other side catching one sauger after the other...with a green jig. The limit is four, but his wife was there, which meant he could keep eight, and he began throwing back some of the ones he caught. When he finally stopped fishing, I took his place, but only managed to lose more of my jigs. The rocks weren’t kind to me.

 

At ten o’clock I went home. No fish. As I walked back to my vehicle, I walked with another fisherman, who carried a bag full of fish. He told me he caught a bunch of Goldeye. Near the dam where I had been fishing in the early hours. He pointed to the spot: That’s were they are.

It didn’t matter. I had to get home for breakfast and to nurse my toe. It had begun throbbing again. I’m not sure if I’ll lose the toenail or not. At least I didn’t break any bones.

In our kitchen hangs a little plaque with the words: A bad day of fishing beats a good day at work. I haven’t had a good day at work for a long time, because I’m retired. I’ll have to change that to: A bad day of fishing is a bad day of fishing. Period.

I guess there will be other days. Perhaps I’ll try my luck again tomorrow.