Tuesday, October 8, 2019
Monday, October 7, 2019
It Can All Go Slower
The trolling didn't work. (Could you have guessed.) The sonar in front of me as we progressed almost all the way to the back of Split Rock Reservoir, I marked plenty of fish. Our Storm Hot 'n Tots, diving at least 12 feet deep, went past dozens. My only regret now is that I didn't think of trying plugs that dive 18 to 23 feet, but plenty of fish marked at about 11 to 14 feet.
We often stopped along the way back, thoroughly fishing rocky drops, rocky points, a rocky islet, deadfalls whether tree trunks or brush, little coves, weedbeds. We used Senkos Wacky and Texas, traditional worms weighted, jigs drressed with tubes and twisters, spinnerbaits, Rat-L-Traps. I don't understand why we didn't catch more under cloudy skies with surface water temperatures from 65 down to 63 in the back, but I predicted that I might not understand in the previous post. Ever since I first came to this reservoir and fished from shore, I've felt it somehow odd. (But Oliver Shapiro did catch a 19-inch largemouth from shore here a month ago.) I caught a 14-inch smallmouth all the way back as close as we came to reservoir's end. No more action anywhere besides a definite hit for Oliver. My bass took a Senko fished Wacky style where a massive weedbed ends. I liked that edge especially, before we even tried it, besides a cove at the reservoir's bottleneck where the sonar marked plenty of fish, though we got no takers.
Beautiful surroundings up there above Interstate 80, they did come alive after I finally caught the smallmouth as sunset neared, the reservoir and trees changing color suddenly seeming there for me instead of lonely, isolating the two of us in wilds that would not yield.
Earlier, Oliver had spoken of an article on fishing I would like to read, about time and memory, about how, as we grow older, time seems to accelerate, and yet poignant memories--fishing produces these--have the effect of slowing it down. The writer postulates that when we're young, we're much more engrossed in events, and so time seems to pass slowly. As an aside, any of us who have a child or children who have grown up know how fast their childhood(s) seem to have passed. And yet we might reflect on our own childhoods and how long the time between our first memories and, say, age 18 had seemed. Like a full life. Incidentally, this state of affairs reminds me that during Paleolithic times, the average age of death wasn't all that much beyond age 18.
Oliver and I both have parents yet alive, and he mentioned the auspices for our living long. I didn't get into the issue, though I didn't take another pull from my vape stick until after we docked, a gesture of good faith rather than bad, and I hope this vapor device is not so bad for my health as were cigarettes. I really should give up this nicotine delivery device, too.
I like to think I've come to terms with my life as enough as it is. If I were die in my sleep tonight, what a pity I didn't finish my book, that for sure, but always the main reason to live long is to be there for family. I, at least, didn't know this in my youth. I thought life was all about actualizing my potential as a creative human being. Well, now that my life has this quality of seeming enough as it is, very well, I've done that to some degree, but that never was all life asked of me. My son Matt has made all the difference. With him in the world, my wife and I are part of our own family.
And with friends to fish with, it all goes a little slower.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)