10-13-2005, 04:00 PM
Last night I arrived home from work and assessed the number of commitments for which I needed to make myself available. Surprisingly, my sons were either at scouts or playing with friends, their homework was done (which meant I didn't have to help them), football practice wasn't until the following night, and my wife was painting my sons' room and didn't want my help. Wo-hoo! I was free for once.
I waited for awhile until around 7 p.m., when the sun was starting to go down, loaded the truck with rods and the tackle box, and made the 15 min. drive to Provo Boat Harbor. I drove out onto the long south dike and parked at the point.
The wind was howling like mad, and the waves were crashing violently against the rocks, so I sat in the cab of my truck and watched both rods. One I casted out into the mouth of the harbor, in the middle of the narrow inlet between both dikes, and the other I casted out into open water off the point of the dike.
It was so dark that every few seconds I had to flip on my headlights to see if the suspending bobbers in between guides on both rods (serving as strike indicators) were making any movements. For two straight hours, until about 9:15 p.m., nothing exciting happened.
There were, however, several small flocks of ducks that would buzz me (well within shooting range) as I would occasionally leave the cab of the truck and walk around a little to survey my fishing gear. (It made me wish I'd brought my shotgun, although I'm 99.9999 percent sure I can't shoot off those dikes. Right? Plus, I would have had to go swimming to retrieve the downed duckies, and I certainly didn't want to do that.)
Finally, feeling dejected, I reeled in the submerged shiners on the ends of my line (both perfectly preserved after two hours of soaking, I might add), called it a night, and drove home.
Dang, those 'eyes are sure picky. Maybe next time.
[signature]
I waited for awhile until around 7 p.m., when the sun was starting to go down, loaded the truck with rods and the tackle box, and made the 15 min. drive to Provo Boat Harbor. I drove out onto the long south dike and parked at the point.
The wind was howling like mad, and the waves were crashing violently against the rocks, so I sat in the cab of my truck and watched both rods. One I casted out into the mouth of the harbor, in the middle of the narrow inlet between both dikes, and the other I casted out into open water off the point of the dike.
It was so dark that every few seconds I had to flip on my headlights to see if the suspending bobbers in between guides on both rods (serving as strike indicators) were making any movements. For two straight hours, until about 9:15 p.m., nothing exciting happened.
There were, however, several small flocks of ducks that would buzz me (well within shooting range) as I would occasionally leave the cab of the truck and walk around a little to survey my fishing gear. (It made me wish I'd brought my shotgun, although I'm 99.9999 percent sure I can't shoot off those dikes. Right? Plus, I would have had to go swimming to retrieve the downed duckies, and I certainly didn't want to do that.)
Finally, feeling dejected, I reeled in the submerged shiners on the ends of my line (both perfectly preserved after two hours of soaking, I might add), called it a night, and drove home.
Dang, those 'eyes are sure picky. Maybe next time.
[signature]