Earlier today, as I was sleeping the deep sleep of the dead, a sound came to my ear. A persistent, annoying, soul wrenching noise from the very depths of hell. It was the phone. I let it go to the answering machine. Still in the haze of a sudden awakening, I heard a voice say, "...your cell phone."
Would this injustice never end? I heaved my bulk up from my soft, warm bed, believing only an emergency of the utmost consequence could afford me such rude behavior. I reached my cell phone just before it went to voice mail.
"Hello?"
"Are you at Walmart?"
"Mom?"
"My prescription is ready. I want to know if they'll let you pick it up by yourself, or do I have to be there?"
"I don't know."
Most people living in Houghton Lake do their shopping during the week. Especially at Walmart. The weekenders crowd the aisles from Friday through Sunday.
"Do you have enough for a couple more days?"
"I have two or three left."
I was bristling.
"Good. Then we can wait until Monday."
"Oh. OK. I'll talk to you later then."
Half a pot of coffee later I decided the only form of recompense for my untimely awakening, would be a few hours on the lake. The wind was supposed to be calm and I have yet to catch my first fish this season. A quick call to my brother and I was out the door to meet him at the marina.
As we motored out of the canal I noticed a slight chop on the surface of the lake. The wind was quite a bit stronger than the 1 mph reported on the internet. Still it had been a long winter and I was ready to get out on the lake. Besides we had faced stronger winds and stayed anchored.
After maneuvering past a half dozen bass boats clustered near the canal entrance/exit. A current hot spot, we turned toward Songers Point.
My brothers eyes were glued to the fish finder, watching for the little fish shaped blip that would signal there were fish present. The fish finder beeped letting us know there were fish in the area, just before the shallow water warning alarm sounded off. Apparently there were fish but in only a few feet of water.
My two brothers and I were taught to fish by bottom bouncing with a panfish rig. A panfish rig has two baited hooks: one near the bottom, and the other about eight inches above the first. Held to the bottom using a sinker. For any sport at all, the water needs to be at least eight feet or deeper. So three feet wasn't going to work for us.
Note: Let me say right here, most people catching fish at this time, are doing so in five foot waters. The fish being drawn to the warmth of the shallows.
There were dozen of other boats. Some drifting, some trolling. All in a small area at the edge of what will become the lakes center weed bed in another month. A great haven for all kinds of fish. Large and small. But not today. We moved on.
After several more attempts, we ended up about a hundred yards from the canal. We always work our way back to the marina so we can make a quick exit when we are done fishing.
We were in nine feet of water and I was fishing the panfish rig on one pole and a black jighead with a
I caught one more on my bobber rig, a rock bass also about eight inches. We went on fishing for another 30 minutes without another bite so we gave up for the day. It had been a nice day. Light jacket or sweatshirt weather. The wind did pull our anchor loose a few times but that's just a part of fishing.
After the sun and the fresh air, I felt a nap was in order. Only this time I turned the phone off.
A perfect end to a relaxing day.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
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