This year was the first time that he has driven up to Maine. In the past they always flew in to Portland which greatly limited what they could bring along from home. Since they drove he was able to bring his own, brand new, never before used fishing gear. I must say that it has been quite entertaining and informative watching him figure out how to manage this gear, kind of like watching a toddler attempting cold fusion. But like with everything else Jon is nothing if not persistent. In no time at all he had managed to bait his own hook! Two days later he managed to reel in his first catch…a minnow-sized perch of which he was very proud. What a difference a day makes. Yesterday he was out there doing his best Roland Martin impersonation! But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
So, yesterday I decided to take out the power boat that Keith May graciously left for my use. My plan was to head up to the marshy cove about a mile north of our camp. I cautiously asked Jon if he wanted to come along. He agreed and before long there we were on approach to this grassy place which features large fish jumping completely out of the water for as far as the eye could see. Immediately I began reeling them in…while Jon was still fiddling with his reel…
These photographs, for long time readers of this space, will be quite familiar, since they have been quite common from my summer weeks in Maine. Like taking candy from a baby. But, I was about to witness Jon Manchester…unleashed.
Upon leaving this cove I maneuvered the boat to another favorite spot and instructed Jon to cast his line towards a specific white rock that looked awfully fishy. His first attempt at this cast only missed by a hundred yards. However, just about the time I was preparing a lecture concerning proper casting technique, the kid had made his second attempt and absolutely nailed it, three feet from the aforementioned white rock whereupon, a bass devoured the float bait I had lent him. After a semi-heroic battle, there he was sitting in the front of the boat, transformed into a fishing expert!!
What can I say? The kid is a quick study.
Of course, as soon as we get back to our dock he began regaling us about some alleged huge fish he had caught when he was a 9 year old Boy’s Scout back in Ohio. When Kaitlin and I asked where the photographic evidence was that might corroborate his story we were informed that this was back in the days before digital photography and consequently no picture exists…to which his own properly skeptical wife replied, “ahh…how convenient”.
Except for a pair of sunburned legs, we survived our first fishing trip with many great stories to tell, a few which are actually true.
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