Everybodyadventures.com outdoors editor has goal of getting outdoors to do something – hike, hunt, fish, camp, paddle, whatever – 260 of 365 days between Oct. 1, 2017 and Sept. 30, 2018. He’ll be posting stories, photos and videos of his adventures along the way. Follow along here, on Twitter @bobfryeoutdoors and on Facebook at BobFryeOutdoors. And don’t forget, you can upload and share photos of your own adventures, too, here.
The sun sets on Day 2 of the outdoor odyssey.
Bob Frye/Everybody Adventures
My expectations weren’t very high, so there’s that.
But still.
I’d planned to go fishing right after dinner Monday. But I’d been out of the office the last two days of the prior work week.
In the meantime, the emails in my account had bred like rabbits rallying to stave off an extinction-level crisis. I had phone calls to return, too. Then, I had to watch the re-broadcast of a meeting I’d missed because I was – wait for it – covering another meeting.
Add it all up and I was late hitting the water.
I got to a little local lake – maybe more a big pond – so close to dark that I had to tie on my lure in the glow of the truck dome light.
A look at the moon over some tall evergreens.
That’s OK, I thought. I’ll have 30, maybe 35 minutes to fish before someone shows up to kick me out and lock the gates.
And this is the plan, after all, to get out the equivalent of five days a week.
This little water has a reputation for holding mostly small bass, if lots of them. A 2-inch crankbait would be just the ticket to tempt them, I thought.
And I indeed caught two fish. Their total length, though: 10 inches. Maybe.
I know, #overkill, right?
For my next trick, I thought, I’ll kill a housefly with an Army tank.
Oh well, at least I was outside enjoying what was a wonderful evening. The weather was pleasant, the sunset sky gorgeous, the water a glassy calm.
Then, there were the parents.
This lake is circled by a trail. You know, one of those ones local park officials seem so big on these days, paved so that walkers can go outside without having to ever risk treading on, you know, actual dirt or grass.
It’s common to see parents walking the perimeter, usually with children in tow.
I give them credit for getting the kids outside. But — as the father of boys mostly gone from the house — listening to their conversations is often humorous in a been there, done that kind of way.
Last night one dad was trying to get his daughter to go home.
“But daddyyyyyy,” she said (insert high-pitched whine here), “I’m not tired.”
Then there was the frazzled mother with three girls, trying to get the smallest to ride in the stroller.
“You’ll be helping me. I want to exercise,” she told her.
I was tempted to turn around and, with a knowing smile, tell her things would get easier.
Then I remembered what was coming.
The teen years. Drama. Driving. Dating.
Oh mercy. And Godspeed.
I pulled my hat a little lower, kept my mouth shut and just fished.
Ten inches of fish didn’t seem like such a big problem after all.
