Note: I have been having problems getting the blog to take the posts lately so I apologize for the lack of posts. You will be bombarded with a few over the next couple of weeks as they catch up.
The first cast dropped perfectly into the location I was
trying for. The offering must have been ideally suited, as the beetle spin
immediately took off before I could even begin to reel. A robin, or red-bellied
sunfish, struck hard and quickly. The hook was set with a flinch of my wrist
and the first battle was on. The micro-lite rod and reel responded with each
tug, pull, and dart the fish exhibited. Soon, he was breaking the surface of
the water coming into the kayak.
I knew fish would be located here. Several years ago I got
permission to take my youngest son fishing in this very spot in order to catch
his first fish. Not only were we given permission, but the landowner offered
his pink Barbie tackle box to assist in the historic and memorable event. My
son did turn down the Barbie box, but he also caught his first fish, much in
the way I used to fish the same spot when I was his age.
Silver Lake offered many more memories than just a fishing
hole though. This place was a long lost friend.
I paddled down the shoreline that ran parallel with the
highway. Just past where the dam ended was a mysterious land for my friends and
me decades ago. Once, we were riding our bikes on the embankment, maybe five or
six of us. Just as Johnny approached the dam we noticed a tree limb that began
to move. Yes, the moccasin was well camouflaged. Although we all got a jolt of
adrenaline from coming so close to danger, we were somewhat accustomed to it.
Snakes were plentiful all around the lake. We once stood in amazement as a
copperhead over six feet long and as thick as a grown man’s forearm was
beheaded by the men at the Wildlife Club. He was caught at the boat shelters.
On the other side of the embankment a small stream ran from
the corner of the lake to the lower waters of the dam. There was a small island
in the shape of a triangle there that we called Arrowhead Island. We made camps
there, played with army men in the flowing waters, and just generally got away
from real life to continue our youth fantasy worlds as explorers and
adventurists.
The head water of the stream sprouted from an underground
waterfall. Several times we tried to go up into the underground stream. We
envisioned a massive river system flowing beneath the earthen layer. It was
nowhere near that big. A child’s imagination is a wonderful thing to behold
though.
The corner of the lake used to don lily pads as big as a
truck tire in circumference. We would toss soft plastic weedless frogs and
salamanders on the pads and let them gently slide in. Usually a bite would
ensue. My favorite bait was a Mister Twister purple worm with a red wiggly
tail. Largemouth loved the spot. Now the pads are gone, but fish beds are
plentiful. Panfish ruled the corner now.
Paddling the back side of the lake I approached the second
Wildlife Club’s location. A log cabin used to host the club there. The cabin
still stands but is now dressed in ivy and other vines. The boardwalk and piers
still stood as well, though they resembled old bridges from movies where the
hero always steps through a rotten board and hangs for his life. My family’s
business supplied wood pallets for the makeup of the piers. Lots of volunteer
hours were spent in making the club a place of beauty and function.
A hundred yards offshore stands an island of trees. There is
no land, just the trunks towering through the water. I spent some time bringing
in crappie and shellcracker both as a kid and now as an adult here. I could not
help but picture the boat dock busy with boats and kids with their dads. I
could almost see Dennis pulling up on his small Chevy pickup anticipating
another great day on the lake.
The lake was sharing many stories of our past together.
No comments:
Post a Comment