On Monday I took Madeline and Luke fishing for the first time. We went to the Nisbet trout pond just west of Prince Albert. The flies were crazy, but there was a stiff wind that day, which helped a lot.
I knew ahead of time that Luke would not be ready to be playing with hooks—barbed or otherwise—attached to long strings propelled by a whip-like device. Someone would lose an eye. So I took a lure and cut off the hook so he could have all the fun of fishing (he doesn’t know about actually catching a fish and probably doesn’t care) without hurting anyone. He did well.
Madeline, however, excelled at casting and was doing her own thing within minutes. Here I am showing her the ropes:
We didn’t catch anything other than weeds. I had brought frozen minnows, which has been my bait of choice since my first day of fishing. A guy and his daughter pulled up about 10 minutes after we arrived and caught a fish within minutes. He told me that cheese was the key.
We had fun anyway. For me it doesn’t matter so much if I catch a fish or not. There is possibility in each cast and that’s what makes it exciting. But it’s also relaxing (and much cheaper than golf).
The next morning—Tuesday morning—Madeline and I drove out for a second try. And we brought cheese. As we pulled up the water was smooth as glass—except for the circles where dragon flies skipped on the water and, I’m positive, where trout were hitting the surface to snap up bugs.
The fish must have pretty refined palates when it comes to cheese, because they didn’t bite. The cheese pickin’s in our fridge were slim. I brought cubes of no-name marble cheese. I should have brought the spiced Gouda. That would have done the trick.
Alas . . .