fishing around for the answers to life when all the signs in the road tell you to go back takes some balls. I went fishing with my daughter recently. Most of you know that as I am rarely slack in updating what is going on via our favorite social network. Anything that could go wrong did but I made a winner out of the deal which is a difficult task for me seeing as I am the queen of disdain. I know right?!? It shocked me too...
First of all my objective and plan was to leave the house at 3pm and head to the storage unit to retrieve the poles that are needed (I have more fishing poles than Cabella's has tent poles!) and any other tackle and equipment not here at the house. Then we would eat and head south some thirty minutes away to the Dunedin Causeway. Haven't been fishing there before but know some who had and thought it would make for an outstanding evening for my Lobo and I. The thing was the minute details that were lost in translation. Cleaning out and packing a cooler, getting gasoline and ice, packing snacks and literally packing the car, resetting the transport tackle boxes (I have a giant box some hundred pounds and have portables I take with me). These details can make or break a trip especially the more you forget of them, the more difficult it is to pull off. I never left at three. When I did leave I was asked to be the gas provider to retrieve my brother's meal and things which way-laid me even more. Counting running to McDonald's and the storage unit and back to the house, we technically left at five o'clock or somewhere's there's about. Dinner was to be hurried and we headed out after that at seven, still daylight but dark enough not to create too much stress on our sensitive bodies. We only stopped briefly for a key (oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that my wonderful daughter locked my keys in the trunk of the car while packing it and it took my brother some half hour to break in with a coat hanger) at Walmart and found it would be for the low-low price of $49.95 because it is an electronically coded key which means the car won't start without the little beeper deal that sends a signal I am ME. We stopped again for gasoline and frozen drinks then headed to the causeway where we found it was low tide, or getting near low tide and would be impossible to cast out as the place was a sandbar. Not wanting to call it in and waste the time and energy put in, a decision was made to head further south to old haunts and fishing holes. I noticed several tackle shops were closed as if some cosmic god won't allow the weekday sport fisherwoman her dues. Conversation led to the conclusion that we may not have enough chairs and the equipment I packed with her was for the purpose of surf casting and not deep sea pier fishing. Change of gear was needed but I didn't want to go home and admit failure just yet, so, I figured we could make do and stop at the Walmart down here for a couple of leaders for deep water drops (found some cool floats too). Now we're cooking with gas! So the question was Skyway or Ft. DeSoto? (we chose the Skyway because the handicap accessibility is way better)
We were excited. The delays didn't get us down and we arrived just after sunset around nine-fifteen and found no parking spaces open near the bait house/restrooms so went to the closest one we could and unloaded the Taurus. Once we had gotten situated we started rigging the poles. I really wasn't in a hurry so was teaching her how to rig as we never had time for that before because her and I never went alone before and the other people and I interacted more. She was a pain but I loved it and she was so in a hurry to drop her line when I noticed a parking space next to the bait house open and power slammed everything but the poles in the back seat of the car and drove the 500 yards to park. She was miffed and I was even more happy. Irony: what makes one gleeful can bring a tear to another's eye. I wasn't thrilled she was miffed, but I accepted it and considered it worth it so we could have the amenities that I needed so badly. Forgetting my medicine meant I would rue this night but I kept smiling. We found our little niche and began to cast. Oh how my darling monkey complained. She didn't like the distance between us (it wasn't enough) and didn't like that we were directly over a piling. She didn't like the fact that I didn't give up ownership of the "ghostpole" one of my favorites and named such because it is an opaque dirty whitish that could have been see through. She brought her two I grabbed but insisted she wouldn't use the red one. So all were rigged and she was as unhappy as ever and then bitched about the music. I like most music and when I fish it is a relaxing sporting event and not some death metal concerted excuse. Needless to say, she was pissed it wasn't what she wanted, still I smiled.
The evening carried on and around four in the morning the cruise ship came in and went under the bridge we were flanking. It is a sight I have seen many times but I still get excited when I see it. We started to catch all manner of fishies. Little ones, little bit bigger ones and most not fit to bring home let alone eat. I caught a starfish and Lobo one-upped me and caught a stargazer (puffer) and I caught an oyster so she caught a dogfish (they bark) and I caught some old tackle that had sunk and she caught another puffer. We went back and forth and she got tired and curled up into a ball in the back seat of the Ford and crashed. I fished and listened to music. I fished and listened to my heart and I fished and listened to nothing. She slept like an angel and wouldn't be the only one I see by the end of our trip. When the sun came up and most all other anglers were long gone leaving just maybe three of us total, I was prepared. I had slathered on SPF100 and braced for the inevitable pain that would let me know all organic functions had ceased, they did completing their shut down by nine-thirty in the morning, when I would throw in my towel after a beautiful but defiant sunrise. I would catch the last fish, a large zebra angel (see, told you!). We packed up and trekked homeward without a stringer of fin-food but a sense of peace and time well spent together. I couldn't have had a better "disappointing" evening had I displayed defeat long before sunrise and considered the agonizing next several days worth the trip.
Something to be said for attitude in this lesson kids. Had I kept my "mobe as usual" ego I would have not had as well an adventure as I did. After checking with mini me, I am informed she had a blast! Go figure, kids! Well I guess it was a blast giving me hell, but it didn't ruin it for me or her so, it was a win.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
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