He was two pounds or so, the lovely bass that I reeled in on Labor Day. He put up a great fight against my little ultralight rod, really a blast. I unhooked him, held him up and admired him for a while, then released him back into the river.
My son was in a kayak 30 yards or so upstream from mine, oohing and ahhing over my catch. My father-in-law – I just call him Dad – was 30 yards or so downstream doing the same. A three-pound bass, at least, he really was nice!
We fished on for a while, I snagged a nice little bream, and Dad caught a nice bass of his own. It didn’t match mine, which was probably four pounds or so, but it was OK. My son did not catch a thing, and we have been sure to remind him of that for the last couple of days.
Finally, the ladies signaled that the meat was ready to come off the grill, so we paddled our way to shore. If you have never been in a kayak, you may be tempted to think that they are easy and simple to enter and exit.
You would be wrong.