Bookworm
April 23rd, 2008, 14:22
Sometimes there are special days in a mans life ---- This was one of them.
As usual when we are at the lake I am the first up. “Not even daylight yet,” says a grumpy voice as my wife rolls over and pulls the sleeping bag up over her head.
I say nothing, just pull my clothes on, exit the tent, light the Coleman lantern and throw some kindling on the ashes of last nights fire. Five minutes later I have a fire burning nicely, the coffee on and I am scrambling eggs and frying bacon as bodies begin to crawl out of the tents.
I feel a tug on the back of my shirt and turn to see my six year old grandson looking up at me with bright eyes. “We going fishing this morning Poppa”, he asks, “Just you and me like you promised”?
Gently I reach down and tussle his hair, “Yep Cal, just you and me in the canoe and all the fishes in the lake.” The eggs are in the pan and as I watch them cook I think about the little man who stands beside me and wonder if he will see this mornings adventure the way I do. I dish out the food and settle down on a stump and chuckle to myself as Caleb mimics my every move on the other side of the fire. Quickly I finish my coffee, pick up my gear and turn towards the lake, and call to my grandson, “Cal, you take your time and I'll see you down by the canoe.”
I move away from the glow of the fire and walk down to stand beside the lake and stow the gear in our canoe. It's that perfect time of the day, not yet light but not dark, with a light mist rising off the still water and the fresh smell of pines in the air, the water like dark glass reflecting the hills and pines around this lake. Caleb joins me by the shore and stands silently as he watches my every move. I steady the canoe and he steps gingerly into the light craft and kneels in the bow position. I push us off, and we move silently across the water.
The only sound is the drip of water off my paddle as I lift it from the water and the slight mummer of voices from our campsite as we paddle out of the little bay where we are camped and enter the main lake. Around the point and into the next bay. Now I stop paddling and let the canoe drift and listen to
the silence that enfolds us. I wait and Caleb turns to see what I am doing and I raise my fingers to my lips and then make a cupping motion around my ear. Less than a moment passes and then the sound I have been waiting for. The lonesome morning serenade of the wild Loon echoes across the lake and bounces off the pines and the hills and I watch my grandson and see his eyes widen as he too hears the call of the wild and now he turns to me and holds his finger to his lips.
We sit for a moment, then I dig my paddle deep and we slip into the quiet bay, “Cal,” I whisper. “Get your rod ready and cast out towards the shore and then let it sink”. He casts and waits for only a moment and then there is a sharp tug on the line. “Set the hook and reel him in”, I say quickly.
Caleb gives the rod a good jerk and begins reeling but nothing is happening as this fish strips line and heads for the center of the lake. “Poppa,” he shouts, “I can't pull him in.”
“You've got a good sized fish there Cal,” I answer, “Keep your rod tip high and make him work for the line, just reel when you can and I'll get the net ready.” The water explodes and a large streamlined body dances across the surface of the bay throwing water droplets in the air to sparkle in the early morning sunlight throwing a small rainbow above the surface. Then he dives and again he leaps into the air seeming to defy gravity, then dives again.
Caleb slowly works him towards us until finally I reach out with the net and lift him into the canoe.My young grandsons eyes are wide with amazement as he gazes on his catch. “Poppa,” he says,“He's a big fish, even bigger than the ones Daddy caught yesterday. Can we keep him and go back and show Mommy and Nana, and Daddy and Zack?”
I have a small chuckle as I remove the hook from the three pound speckled trout, “Yes Cal, we can keep this one and take him back to show everyone.” I pick up my paddle and spin the canoe around and head back towards camp.
Two hundred yard from the camp Caleb is calling for everyone to come see his monster fish and then he turns back to me. “Poppa,” he asks quietly, “Will you promise to take me fishing again?”
“Yes Cal,” I answer, “I promise we will fish again.” He turns back towards the shore and so does not see the little tear that leaks from my eye or the smile upon my face. Gently I pull the canoe into the landing and the family gathers around as I sit quietly and watch my grandson exit the canoe
and in his excitement, slip and fall into the lake but come up sputtering holding his trophy aloft and wade proudly ashore. I had left camp with a child, but I have returned with a fisherman and have left him, and me, with a memory that will last until the end of time..
Dave
As usual when we are at the lake I am the first up. “Not even daylight yet,” says a grumpy voice as my wife rolls over and pulls the sleeping bag up over her head.
I say nothing, just pull my clothes on, exit the tent, light the Coleman lantern and throw some kindling on the ashes of last nights fire. Five minutes later I have a fire burning nicely, the coffee on and I am scrambling eggs and frying bacon as bodies begin to crawl out of the tents.
I feel a tug on the back of my shirt and turn to see my six year old grandson looking up at me with bright eyes. “We going fishing this morning Poppa”, he asks, “Just you and me like you promised”?
Gently I reach down and tussle his hair, “Yep Cal, just you and me in the canoe and all the fishes in the lake.” The eggs are in the pan and as I watch them cook I think about the little man who stands beside me and wonder if he will see this mornings adventure the way I do. I dish out the food and settle down on a stump and chuckle to myself as Caleb mimics my every move on the other side of the fire. Quickly I finish my coffee, pick up my gear and turn towards the lake, and call to my grandson, “Cal, you take your time and I'll see you down by the canoe.”
I move away from the glow of the fire and walk down to stand beside the lake and stow the gear in our canoe. It's that perfect time of the day, not yet light but not dark, with a light mist rising off the still water and the fresh smell of pines in the air, the water like dark glass reflecting the hills and pines around this lake. Caleb joins me by the shore and stands silently as he watches my every move. I steady the canoe and he steps gingerly into the light craft and kneels in the bow position. I push us off, and we move silently across the water.
The only sound is the drip of water off my paddle as I lift it from the water and the slight mummer of voices from our campsite as we paddle out of the little bay where we are camped and enter the main lake. Around the point and into the next bay. Now I stop paddling and let the canoe drift and listen to
the silence that enfolds us. I wait and Caleb turns to see what I am doing and I raise my fingers to my lips and then make a cupping motion around my ear. Less than a moment passes and then the sound I have been waiting for. The lonesome morning serenade of the wild Loon echoes across the lake and bounces off the pines and the hills and I watch my grandson and see his eyes widen as he too hears the call of the wild and now he turns to me and holds his finger to his lips.
We sit for a moment, then I dig my paddle deep and we slip into the quiet bay, “Cal,” I whisper. “Get your rod ready and cast out towards the shore and then let it sink”. He casts and waits for only a moment and then there is a sharp tug on the line. “Set the hook and reel him in”, I say quickly.
Caleb gives the rod a good jerk and begins reeling but nothing is happening as this fish strips line and heads for the center of the lake. “Poppa,” he shouts, “I can't pull him in.”
“You've got a good sized fish there Cal,” I answer, “Keep your rod tip high and make him work for the line, just reel when you can and I'll get the net ready.” The water explodes and a large streamlined body dances across the surface of the bay throwing water droplets in the air to sparkle in the early morning sunlight throwing a small rainbow above the surface. Then he dives and again he leaps into the air seeming to defy gravity, then dives again.
Caleb slowly works him towards us until finally I reach out with the net and lift him into the canoe.My young grandsons eyes are wide with amazement as he gazes on his catch. “Poppa,” he says,“He's a big fish, even bigger than the ones Daddy caught yesterday. Can we keep him and go back and show Mommy and Nana, and Daddy and Zack?”
I have a small chuckle as I remove the hook from the three pound speckled trout, “Yes Cal, we can keep this one and take him back to show everyone.” I pick up my paddle and spin the canoe around and head back towards camp.
Two hundred yard from the camp Caleb is calling for everyone to come see his monster fish and then he turns back to me. “Poppa,” he asks quietly, “Will you promise to take me fishing again?”
“Yes Cal,” I answer, “I promise we will fish again.” He turns back towards the shore and so does not see the little tear that leaks from my eye or the smile upon my face. Gently I pull the canoe into the landing and the family gathers around as I sit quietly and watch my grandson exit the canoe
and in his excitement, slip and fall into the lake but come up sputtering holding his trophy aloft and wade proudly ashore. I had left camp with a child, but I have returned with a fisherman and have left him, and me, with a memory that will last until the end of time..
Dave