TITLE: Canada, a Trip to Remember
By Brandon Baldwin
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Canada, a Trip to Remember
The two red striped boats were quickly approaching an inlet in the jagged edge of the rocky shoreline. The shoreline shot out its wide arms on both sides of the glistening water. The land shrunk back abruptly and formed a cove into which the water calmly went about. The dips and shallows were playing tricks on my eyes and temporarily deceiving me. It was a beautiful, chilly morning. I inquisitively leaned forward to glance in the direction we were heading, after receiving a cold burst of wind in the face. I tucked my chin—sunk my face down into my think pale, brown sweater—wove my arms together—and plopped back down into my seat. I was desperately trying in vain in an attempt to hold in the escaping heat. I had to squint my eyes to be able to glance in the eastern direction of the bright, large sun. A burst of frigid wind and water sprayed over my coolly refreshed hair, thoroughly chilling my head and neck. As the boats shot through the gap of breaking waves, I couldn’t help but smile as Darren waved at us with a cock-eyed grin. What can be better than enjoying God’s kingdom fishing?
Darren, one of my good friends, had come up with his father to go fishing in rural Canada with me for my 13th birthday. My father had come with as well; we were staying at a lodge along a 40-mile lake. Very few people fished this lake, so the whole lake was ours! This would be the third day for us to be basking in God’s creation, and we were riding on the hope that we could surpass our previous records of catching 70 fish each of the two days prior. I had caught the most out of the fishing crew of four people—around twenty-five yesterday. We finally fully darted into the cove. Darren and his father took their fishing boat to the north side, but my father and I traveled to the opposing corner of the circular fishing cove. We had been fishing for the strong willed Northern Pike, a very elongated green fish with razor sharp protruding teeth, a very enjoyable catch indeed! The fish reminded me of a savage sea creature, the Barracuda. Pike has a way of eluding the more passive fishermen. You see, the faster you reel in, the more strikes at the line you get, which makes for an exciting and fast paced day of fishing.
I had to exert an effort not to loose my balance as my momentum shifted. The boat came to rest approximately two hundred feet from the shoreline. The shoreline made up of marvelously dull green, masked rocks, evergreen trees, and every animal you could imagine in the great flora and fauna of Canada. What many would call a beach lasted only a few meters until it came up suddenly to a rocky precipice, which shot up in the air sharply, the precipice would have been a grand old adventure to climb. We threw our invisible stringy spider-web like lines out, with a splash we quickly started reeling in an attempt to delude the pike. The first adventure began when my father was successful with his first cast. The violent pike started toying with him. It slashed about in the water fifteen yards off from the boat. The pike leap out of the water in desperation soaring high in the air. The pike landed back in the water, and he sharply carved his new frantic path, fiercely trying to escape. The fish, nearing the point of exhaustion, began to tire of his fight. My father and I managed through teamwork to bring in the pike. After we had the hook successfully released from its mouth we released the fish back into the wild. I collapsed down into my wobbly seat on the fishing craft. I was soon relaxed, and my mind drifted. I surveyed my surroundings; I looked around—taking in the wildlife around me, and absorbed the yellow rays scattered throughout the air, the light shimmering off the peaceful waves, the life—the beauty.
We threw out lines out again, and our hands blurred as the reel zipped around in a uniform circular motion, and we finally brought the lure back to the pole once again. Zip! Zing! The lure was—slung back—launched forward—and flew through the air once again. The lure was now twenty-five yards off, and I quickly began to reel it back in. I can still hear the continuous Click! Clack! Click! of the fishing reel spinning. The lure was about five yards away now: through the clear-refracted water I could see the sunlight bounce off the shiny underside as it quivered back and forth in the water. I hesitated. I thought I caught a glimmer of something other than the familiar underside of the tricky trinket. I ignored the instinct to slow down the lure, but instead I sped it up! The pike struck at the lure vehemently, just like a lightning bolt strikes a lonely tree on a midnight covered hill. I jerked the pole up, and the fight was on! He was hooked, and hooked well too, or so I thought. I let out a yelp of joy, but I soon squelched it as the struggle went on. At the same moment my father had managed to find himself in a fight; he wasn’t of any help trying to get my fish into the boat. I knew my fish was a big one! He fought harder than any other one yet. The boat wavered in its balance as my father leaned over to grab the net to bring in his own fish, as a result, leaving me with nothing to bring in my own monster of a fish! I could feel the energy flowing from the fish through my pole; I became so energized that if you were to be watching me from a distance you would fear that I might accidentally slip out of the boat! I could see the fish now clearly through the water. He was gigantic! But my father had taken the net already! I had to improvise, or else I would have lost the biggest fish yet. Suddenly an ingenious idea popped into my head. On these smaller boats the back end, near the propeller, was much lower to the water, maybe only six inches high. I carefully sauntered to the end of the fickle boat and meticulously slid the fish over the low part of our rickety boat. Once the fish was in I heard a harsh grind of metal on bone as the hook came jolting out of the fishes mouth! The huge fish started to bounce around the boat! What energy! My adrenaline was pumping as the fish hurtled between my legs, narrowly missing my bare leg with its sharp teeth. It continued to progress along the 15-foot long boat; until it finally came to rest as it wallowed around in the middle of the boat.
What a catch! I think the most surprised person out of the whole lot was myself. It was almost a dream catching such a gigantic pike, that day was defiantly the most stupendous out of the week we spent there. The sun was just beginning to hide its face behind the trees as we got off our boats back at the small primitive dock. We had not lost the great sense of excitement as we added up the fish we had caught. We ended up with over 100 fish at the end of the day. Not to mention the 33-inch pike I had fought with earlier that morning, and I had not been able to use a net either! But I must warn you however; everyone knows that the fish gets bigger every time the tale is told.
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