In Elizabeth Bishop’s poem “The Fish,” a fisherman catches an imposing fish. As the fisherman holds the magnificent creature out of the water with his/her ‘hook fast in the corner of the fish’s mouth,’ he/she begins to admire the fish for having obviously fought long and hard all its life (Bishop 3). In a sense, the speaker compares the fish to a war veteran who had seen one too many battles. On at least five occasions, five other fishermen had attempted to reel-in the beast given the “five old pieces of fish line” and “their five big hooks” embedded in its mouth (Bishop 51). Bearing this in mind, the speaker thinks of the fish-line and hooks as battle-scars and consequently, looks upon the fish as a skilled survivor rather than a regular,
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.
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.
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
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.
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. Up mountains, through the passes, constantly surrounded by trees or a cliff that gave a wonderful view of the mountain next to us. We were so close to the snow of Lake Tahoe. We had been to Tahoe before, but this was a new cabin for us. We were all excited to see the cabin, but more importantly, looking forward to searching for sledding hills the next day.
A Montana Fishing Trip As we walked down to the river, the birds were making a whistling noise, and it was quite annoying because the birds were so loud Will and I could barely hear each other. When we were walking down to the river on a rock that was on the path was a famous quote from Muhammad Ali and it was about the river and it said “Rivers, Ponds, Lakes, and Streams - they all have different names, but they all contain water. Just as religions do - they all contain truths.”
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.
I tied a hook onto the end of my line and placed a worm on the hook I was so excited. I casted my line out until the pole slipped out of my hands into the lake. I got so mad, so I rushed up to the cabin and told my dad that the pole flew out of my hands. “Well,” he said with a grin on his face. “You have to go fetch it out of the lake.”
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. As I finish my 15 minutes of observations at camp, I realized I was ready for my first padded practice of the year.
One day, on a Saturday afternoon . We went to the boat. The boat is parked at the bow at Newman lake. The boat is a blue and white color. The blue is a dark blue but faded. The boat also could go to about 45-50 miles per hour. Anyway let's get on with the story...
I originally thought spending thirty minutes outside alone without any technology, friends, or distractions was going to be extremely difficult for me. I do not consider myself an outdoor kind of person. So when I first read the assignment I did not really want to do it. I decided since I had to do this I would go some place that is really nice in hope that it would make it easier for me to tolerate being there. I went to Lake Wauberg here at the University of Florida. I went to the side that has the open lake area. As I walk around I saw many things. There was a lot of vegetation and forest area. Also their was a grand view of the lake itself. I was no the only person there, but it was not too crowded. I watched a couple paddle boat around the lake.
My favorite places all have one thing in common, time seems to slow down when I’m there. One such place is Sebago Lake, specifically, during sunrise. Every year my family visits Sebago one week during summer, and on the second day, my dad and I wake early to put our boat in the water. On that morning I have to get dressed in the dark. I pad downstairs, grab a box of cereal, and hustle out to the truck where my dad waits, the boat trailer hooked to the back. It’s too early to talk, so we sit quietly as we drive down to the rickety old boat ramp. He pulls into the lot, I hop out, and walk over to the boat, tossing the buoys over the side for protection. I walk to the beginning of the dock to help direct the trailer onto the ramp. My dad backs