Here….Fish…Fish…Fish…Crawfish…

26 08 2011

I grew up salmon fishing in Port Alberni, BC.  Waking up at 3am, taking half of a Gravol pill (aka Dramamine) and falling asleep in the truck until we arrived at the boat launch.  Sometimes it was just me, other times it was me and my brother.   Regardless, we would stay awake until we got situated in the boat, wrapped up in blankets and got a quick thrill riding over the waves and boat wake in the pre-dawn light.  Then we fell back asleep until it was light out and my dad had been fishing for at least 3 hours.

During these summers we learned that we did not like waking up at 3am, salmon fishing is no big deal and my dad wanted us in the boat so the fish limit would increase and he could catch more fish, if the fish aren’t biting it’s time for a coffee break, and my brother and I were easily persuaded to do all of this for the promise of a 7eleven Slurpee.

Much to my surprise, in the middle of Arizona, I went fishing for the first time since my summer fishing trips almost 15 years ago.  This time we fished from the shoreline, in a freshwater reservoir, with a little ultra light rod and reel.

No, we did not catch wild salmon the size of a 5 year old, but we also didn’t wake up at 3am!

Because we were not fishing at the morning bite I didn’t catch any fish.  But I now realize that my special talent is to catch crawfish on a line!

It was a group effort, but we managed to catch almost a dozen crawfish.  My claim to fame is the old crawfish that was covered in moss that has probably been in that reservoir forever.   ‘The Old Man of the Lake’ .

And what does one do when one catches a dozen crawfish?  You have a crawfish boil!

More trouble than those little crawfish tails are worth, but definitely a fun little vacation activity.

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One response

7 10 2011
chinesetea2

Life can only be understood backwards;but it must be lived forwards.

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