The Worst Day Fishing, Or, Stick With Mrs. Paul's

My brother Mantel Man doesn't send e-mails, he creates miniature works of art and drops them into my inbox.  I swear, if he burps it must sound like an aria.  So here is the e-mail he sent out to family yesterday, describing his Saturday fishing trip with a friend.  I know him, and this e-mail took him no more than 20 minutes, I'm sure of it.  Maybe 10.

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Mantel Man netting a trout during a luckier fishing trip (on Woods Canyon Lake last year)

Y'know that old saying, "The worst day fishing is better than the best day working"?  I tested that theory last weekend on a local lake with a fishing buddy.  I'll call him "Gene" -- because that's his real name, and if I have to endure humiliation, then so does he.

Gene fly fishing on the Black River a few weeks ago

Gene's particular hang-up that day was just that: a hang-up.  His casts, aimed near snags sticking out of the water, were usually quite accurate, but several times they got caught on the branches above the surface and never on the bass underneath.  Fortunately, we could always paddle our canoe over and free his line.  Incidentally, we now feel fully prepared for the approaching task of Christmas tree-decorating.

(Photo stolen from these guys)

My own problem was worse: not catching things, but losing things.  I was using a fairly heavy lure to reach a greater depth, attached to lightweight 3 lb. test line.  On one cast, the line suddenly snapped with a loud noise, and I instantly knew I had lost the lure.

That's not all I lost.  The snap was accompanied by a loud pop, and the upper half of my two-piece fishing rod dropped into the deep water.  Never before in my life had such a thing happened.  The line must have wrapped around the tip just as I cast, wrenching it from the lower half.  Gene turned around and said, "What the -- " as I reached, too late, for the sinking piece of fiberglass.

That rod had been in the family for years, belonging to my brother before he admitted he didn't have the patience to be a fisherman and gave it to me around twenty years ago.  If he hadn't, the rod surely would have ended up at the bottom of a lake anyway, only not by accident.  It wasn't fancy, but I hated to lose it -- not because I'm sentimental about material things, but because I'm a cheapskate.  I'm also an optimist: my other rod (an even older one) was left in my Jeep because I didn't think I'd need it that day.  Fortunately, Gene was a pessimist, and he pulled out his spare for me to use.  Yeah, he's a little too trusting as well.

Ever heard of "jerk bait"?  Some single women apply that moniker to themselves, but it's actually a floating lure that dives under the surface when the line is tugged.  I didn't lose any lures while casting with Gene's rod and reel due to the 8 lb. test line he had strung on.  His rig worked fine, but it was like fishing with piano wire, so eventually I replaced his reel with the one from my own half-a-pole.

On about my fifth cast with this combination, I heard a small snap and watched my lure sail across the cove, unencumbered by its erstwhile tether.  "My turn, Gene."  We paddled over and retrieved it, and I managed not to lose it again -- mainly because I soon replaced it with another jerk bait.  I treat lures like B-17 bomber crews: once your 25 combat missions are up, you've been put at risk quite enough, and it's time to send you Stateside.

By mid-afternoon, the gathering clouds looked like they were assembling for less-than-peaceable purposes, and Gene and I paddled back toward where we had launched the canoe.  As raindrops began stirring the surface of the lake, I cast again and instantly felt that something had gone awry.  I watched the lure fly away like a B-17.  Without a noise, it had somehow parted from its line and was now floating invisibly on the roiled surface at least 200 feet away.  We searched for a while, but when it's pouring down rain, you can quickly lose your enthusiasm for even the most highly decorated, combat-seasoned lure.

The same canoe on Blue Ridge Reservoir last year, as Mantel Man sat under a big overhanging rock waiting out a squall

The clouds had a silver lining, however.  Since neither of us smelled remotely of fish, Gene's wife Diane allowed both of us into their house for a fabulous dinner.  I had gotten nary a nibble on the lake, but I had more than a few good bites at the table.  And I didn't lose any forks, in case you were wondering.

This weekend I'm going shopping for piano wire.

Mantel Man at Blue Ridge, smelling of fish and having to cook his own food

Comments

[Puma Shoes]

Thats an interesting post. I knew some of them but mostly it was new to me. I enjoyed it very much.Keep them coming, because you have a fan.

[jennifer]

You have a condom add on your side bar and a hot man on your post. Coincidence?

I think not.

I read your bio info... love that you are a self professed lousy housekeeper. Me too! And the dullard part too, except I call that being "Stoopid" in my neck of the woods!

[Jason]

When you post about Mantel Man, I just skim right past the text, directly to the photo.

[Tammy]

Mantel Man should have his own blog - hes an excellent writer. I forwarded this to Harley Guy who also fly fishes - hell like this story if he can get past the pole breaking part. That might be too much.

[wrekehavoc]

and they say fishing is relaxing. right?

[kd@abitsquirrelly]

Dude your bro is hot. Sorry, but he is.

[Kyddryn]

I never had much luck fishing (although I managed to retain rod, reel, bait, and lures every time), which is just as well - I really dont like cleaning fish. Id rather swim with them.

Crabbing, though - that I can do.

Mantel Man, you write beautifully - thanks for the morning chuckle.

Shade and Sweetwater,
K

[Sandi]

Great story! and I will also agree that your brother is a HOTTIE!
Genes not bad either ;)

[all things BD]

Love the fishing story. I used to go fishing every summer with my dad, so it brought back fond memories of untying my line from a tree.

And Mantle Man? Hubba hubba.

[The Glamorous Life]

I can not believe I tuned in today and just read an entire post about fishing. And like it.

But more importantly is that really Mantle Man in the last shot? Um, can I say MEOW to that? And -IS he single? Oh crap. Im not.

But hey-maybe I will take up fishing now.

:)

[Bob Cleveland]

The way Mantel Man writes (whats with that nick, anyway .. does he sleep hanging over a fireplace or something?), Im thinking you two are twins.

[Chesapeake Bay Woman]

Im casting my line out towards that last picture. If he were fishing and I were a fish, Id jump right in his boat. Or his lap.

But I seriously digress.

Great story, and if Mantel Man ever wants to go salt-water fishing, he can marry me. Ooops! No, that was a typo. He can visit me.

Or you can bring him with you when you visit me. Or you can be my bridesmaid.

Off for coffee now....