Fishing with Porter- Teusday, October 17th, 2006

Yesterday Porter and I went fishing out swanson on a little string of lakes 40 miles out the road. We have been out there before, and I have a canoe stashed making it easier. I don't have to haul the thing all the way from home, then drag it 1/4 mile "over the river and through the woods."

We left the house a little after 8am, and 45 minutes later we pull into the parking lot. After a short walk to the lake, I dragged the canoe from its hiding spot and we jumped in. I paddled across the first lake, through a little slough, and right at the mouth of the second lake, started fishing. It was cold. Really cold, but we are Alaskan, so Porter stuck his hands in his crotch, and I fished with numb hands.

Right from the start, little 12" silvers were chasing my lure back to the boat, batting it back and forth. There were hundreds of them coming at the canoe like pirahnas. Like tiny torpedos.

If you have a child, you know thats all they need. It could be 20 below and their fingers could be swollen and splitting. But as long as they see fish, it's all good. I kept one little 12" fish, then started paddling into deeper water looking for something bigger. I ended up with a nice 20" or so rainbow, so I handed porter the rod, and let him fish a little.

A 4 year old could be a hired killer with a fishing pole. The last time I took him out, I started teaching him to cast, and he did OK, but by the time we were done, I had been slapped in the face twice with the lure. The funny thing was he was looking out in the water to see how far he had thrown the hook, when the dang thing was sitting in my lap.

But that was last time...

He musta been working on it in his dreams, cause the kid was tossin the lure out in front of him about 20 ft, and actually throwin it where he wanted! Of course I expect no less from my son. He is a Fannon...

I moved the canoe slowly around the edge of the lake, dodging little communities of lily pads as we floated along. I warned Porter I didn't want to get my hands wet, so stay away from the weeds, but he insisted on casting right to the edge of each island of rot we floated by. As I was formulating a plan to make him get the snag out, his line went tight, and I could feel the frustration building up. I prepared to lose my fingers to the cold...

I looked out to attempt to spot where he had snagged his line when I saw a flash of silver. His rod wasn't bouncing, and his line was steady tight, and I wasn't sure what he had caught. "Do you have a fish on Porter?" No answer... "Dude, start reeling faster and keep your tip down! I think you have a fish on!"

He did... and he did. Soon, a little 10" silver was sitting in the bottom of the canoe, beating his head hard enough against the metal, dents were left. Porter fought the urge to squeeze the life out of his new friend (we had already decided we weren't gonna keep any more small fish), and he threw it back in. I caught one more fish, and we headed back in. Before the hike out, we made a little fire, and cooked the two little fish in some tinfoil.

Does this get any of you droolin for ice fishing? I miss our group of friends going out every week to fellowship and have fun around the fire. Can't wait...