I will always remember the times I had as a young boy fishing. I had a true passion for the sport even as a small boy. One thing that sticks out in my mind is catching my first fish off the edge of the dock at our summer camp on the St. Lawrence River. This 10-inch sunfish seemed monstrous compared to my tiny little body. It seemed like such a fight. After months of practice with these small dock fish I knew I was ready for my first fishing trip out to the open waters.
I felt like an experienced fisherman at this stage but I knew there was much more to fishing off the boat than the dock fishing I was accustomed to. Drifting, selecting the right lure, and casting were going to be aspects of fishing I always dreamed about but had never had the chance to perform in a real life situation. The morning of our big fishing trip was one I’ll never forget. It was barely light out when my father woke me up at the crack of dawn. “The early bird catches the worm boy.” I rolled out of bed and managed to
throw on a pair of old torn jeans and a warm flannel. The drowsiness soon wore off as we made our way down the dock to our small fishing boat. The water was as smooth as glass and the fog was visible and just rising off the surface. The engine fired up and we roared off down the silent river. The ride seemed like it was taking forever as I wondered at each and every shoal and rock ledge when we were going to stop. Then I saw it and it became quite clear where we were headed. The spot my father had selected just looked like a fish haven. We nuzzled our boat up into the cove. A slight current was going to push us right through the heart of this small fishing utopia. An old rotten tree lay half way into the water. It’s roots were visible as it had apparently become too weak and knocked over during some storm. The bugs were gathering in this quiet little place and looked like a perfect natural food source for all types of marine life. “Drop it in right over there Jonathan.” My Dad pointed out
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