He looks at the world through his lenses, especially nature, and says, “How does anyone get more artistic than that?” Over the next several hours Brett reels in three more ‘little guys,’ each one smaller than the last. It’s late afternoon and our Captain, seeing our spirits hit a low, pipes up. “You just wait,” he says, as light hearted as ever. “We’re going to get a big one, and you’re not going to know what to do.” Jeff points the bow West, and we slowly troll across the lake. As we approach the West shore, Jeff is out on the back, anticipating, while Ben, Brett and I converse inside where it’s warm. We glance up now and then to watch the tips of the rods, but nothings biting. Then Jeff hollers, “Bite! Bite! Bite!” Sure enough, none of us knows what to do. “Get out here!” Jeff cries, no doubt thinking we’re going to lose this one. Brett jumps up as if his legs have been asleep and stumbles out onto the deck. He takes up the rod with some effort. The fish is still on. The hook is set, and the work begins. Brett falls into a forward, backward rocking motion as he slowly works the Chinook closer and closer to the boat. Clearly, this is no ‘little guy.’ Jeff hollers again and rushes to another rod, but the fish is gone. Wasting no time, he drops that rod and moves back to help Brett. Brett’s breathing is strained, his jaw tight. Jeff proclaims he’s going to have to break out the big net for this one. I can’t hold back a whoop of excitement when I see dorsal and tail fins break through the surface of the water. Jeff maneuvers the net while Brett fights to bring the fish in. Jeff
Summer-Fall 2014.indd 70
5/14/14 9:33 PM
Published on May 25, 2014
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