The final carry of half a mile from Portage to Blackstone Lake was made with difficulty by groping our way through the dense woods in the dark, and we gladly betook ourselves at once to the hospitable mansion of logs of the settler on the shore of Blackstone Lake. The cabin being ￼ duly “smudged,” all turned in and slept soundly till awakened by the musical notes of the early rising mosquitoes. A net worn over our heads both night and day contributed largely to our comfort, though no such device will keep out the microscopic sand fly. Oil of pennyroyal and tar, etc., did pretty well, but the net is the best for blackflies and mosquitoes. The mosquitoes appear to thrive particularly there, and we were invited to believe that in a neighboring beaver meadow their hum was such as to …show more content…
Our guide, as we started over to Crane Lake the first morning indulged in sundry smiles and remarked that we should break our rods, so that, although placid in outward mien, I felt inwardly a little nervous; but I didn 't mean to break down until …show more content…
Swinging around a little point, with some 20 yards of line astern, before fishing a great while I felt a sudden movement at the spoon that was more like a crunch than a bite. It took only a second to give the rod a turn that fixed the hooks, and another second to discover that I had hung something. Scarcely had I tightened the line when the fish started. I do not know that I wanted to stop him, but I felt the line slip rapidly from the reel as though attached to a submarine torpedo. The first run was a long one, but the line was longer, and the fish stopped before the reel was bare. This was my opportunity, and I had the boatman swing his craft across the course, and, reeling in the slack line I turned his head toward the deeper water. Forty-five minutes of a pretty a fight as one could wish to see left my new acquaintance alongside the boat, and before he recovered his surprise the gaff was in his gills and the boatman lifted him on
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I will never forget that encounter the intense sun, the endless horizon, the infinite shades of blue that dissolved any boundary between sky and trees. The views were like swimming into a kaleidoscope, deceptively plain "Lake Winaukee" sign on the outside, but a show of colors on the inside, waiting to shock and, mesmerize me. Those colors! Sails on the horizon covered the lake; streaks of sunlight illuminated them, the swaying wildlife creating a dance of rhythm. Beautiful, preserved life synchronizing every movement with the camp sight creating one living entity.
The drive was almost unbearable, but the thought of spending the week in the snow with family kept me going. It was only a four hour drive, but at 9 years old, it felt like an eternity. The scenery slowly changed from flat land, to rolling hills. The hills were covered in yellow dying grass, but they were still beautiful. Then we started to make the climb.
Nick was amazed by the water that flowed underneath the bridge. It had been a long time since he had seen the rapid moving water and the fish. The fish he seen are known as trout. Although the day was hot and his emotions were running rampant, these things made Nick very happy and brought a sense of peace to him. He didn’t stop there though.
In the short story, “The Bass, The River, and Sheila Mant.”, the narrator changes his fate, unfortunately it is not the fate he thinks. He goes on a date with his crush next door, taking her on a boat ride down a river. While on the river Sheila tells him about how much she hates fishing, while it’s the narrator's favorite hobby. A fish suddenly hooks on to his fishing pole line in the water and he wants to try to reel it in but he is afraid of what Sheila will think.
There were four-foot waves, and it started pouring. We decided to go in for lunch. We went to the red roof inn, but when we got there they were closed, so we went to a different restaurant, it was delicious. When we were finished with lunch, we drove out of the bay and back to the place where we were fishing. When we got there we realized we were low on leeches, so we went back to the launch and got some more leaches from the small bait store.
The summer of 2017 I went with my uncle to Wisconsin Dells. It was my first time going to Wisconsin Dells. There were so many things to experience at the waterpark from the long lines of people, to the many water slides, to the loudness and the smell of chlorine. We arrived at the waterpark at about ten o’clock. There weren 't very many people there.
Who knew going to the Lake of the Ozarks would be so much fun? Before I went to the Lake of the Ozarks I was bored to pieces at home. I was packing and just sitting around after that. I was watching tv and doing nothing. It was horrible because I was so anxious to just leave and get there.
He confronts internal conflict in the story when he mounts the rod in the boat. The narrator is getting ready for his date with Sheila in the middle of the story, when he “mounted his Mitchell reel on his(made changes to quote) Pflueger spinning reel rod and stuck it in the stern”.(Wetherell 2) The narrator crosses paths with internal conflict as he puts the rod in the boat, allowing for the possibility of getting the bass on his line and causing conflict with Sheila's dislike for fishing. Along with his love of fishing. The narrator also encounters internal conflict when Sheila brings up Eric Caswell.
What seemed to be the biggest bass in the river, snagged on the line. There is no way the boy could let Sheila know of this. The rest of the night, the narrator maneuvers the boat perfectly and somehow manages to keep the fish on the line, without Sheila having any knowledge. They finally reach their destination and the boy is faced with a crippling decision. The boy has to either cut the line, letting the fish go, or risk having Sheila lose all interest in him by reeling in the fish.
Although the old man suffers in pain and exhaustion due to the great size of the fish, the overwhelming sun, and his injured hands, he does not quit but keeps persisting. He does not let go of the fish. He maintained his strong desire to conquer the
On a very hot summer day, I was just sitting around looking for something to do. Then I thought I will go to Darren house and BullSh** with him. So, I got in my truck with chase and went to Lumberport. Once I got into town of Lumberport I passed the only cop they have. Next thing I know he was following me, then he pulled me over.
It was a nice, warm summer day about nine years ago when my Mom’s family decided to come up for a vacation, which we did often back then. Whether it was going camping, or going to visit them or vice versa, it was always a pleasure hanging out with them whenever we got the chance to. We were on our way to go raft the Yellowstone River in the stunning Paradise Valley, Montana. The group consisted of myself, Mom, Dad, my older brother Justin and younger brother Joe, my Uncle Richard, three cousins Michael, Trisha, and Mariah, and two dogs, Nikki and Buddy. We had just arrived to the place where we were going to rent our equipment from, Yellowstone Whitewater rafting and all of us were filled with excitement and nerves at the same time because,
It was the middle of january in the cold thirty to thirty-five degrees with a bone chilling breeze from the north, and the christmas break is almost over, there is only enough time to go ice fishing one more time. Not only is christmas break almost over but ice fishing season is too. It was my Brother(Matthew),My Grandpa, a friend of mine with the name of Dale and I on this fishing trip. The fishing trip included a 1 night stay in the ice shack that my father had bought from a neighbor 's garage sale for a good deal, this shack is built from oak slabs, it has a wood burning fireplace and 5 holes in the floor perfect for my family and friends the only thing that I could say was wrong with it was the window from the north side of the shack had