And lamenting. Despite the fact that our guests have been both fishing and catching, the lads have been doing more fishing than catching.
At one point, there was some grumping heard that there were no fish in the lake. At least not in the part of the lake where the self-titled Wall-eye Fishing Consortium was trying their luck. (they took the name from a lure they found at the local dump. It would require a fish of Jurassic proportions, but it was one impressive lure, stamped: Wall-eye. It set them dreaming)
Fishing is a sport of patience. Which paid off yesterday, when Mike landed this Monster Small-mouth Bass. They are entering it in the Big Fish contest (which requires only measurements and photographs, not the actual fish, who is back out there, waiting to be twice as big next time he's caught!)
Okay, where was it caught? (Not that I'd tell.) Does Malcolm know? Oh, this takes me back . . . with Gareth, catching 30+ little 'uns in an evening, throwing them back in hopes they might come back a little bigger the next year. Maybe Mike got one of Gareth's cast-offs (forgive the pun), almost 20 years later . . .
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