Welcome to My Back Yard. These short stories are my attempt to document some of my many fine Alaskan adventures. My developing love for writing is a perfect match for my uncanny ability to forget all but the most fundamental of details. J.R.R. Tolkien's timeless quote is my mantra- "Some things that should not have been forgotten were lost."- so I write.
“A fisherman is a jerk on one end of the line, waiting for a jerk on the other”-Unknown
Jerk#1 and #2 in no particular order.
Corey was clutching the two foot ice fishing pole as it was bending and twitching violently towards the hole. It was a battle I wasn’t sure he would win. Unfortunately I had neglected to change line and I had our poles rigged with four-pound test from a prior trip and he had already broken one off. Corey had been jigging while the rest of us were busy re-baiting all of our tip ups. I hustled down to him in time to take some video. “Nice job Bubba!”
For reasons that are beyond me, the fish were able to strip us of our bait on all of the tip-ups and the only way to catch them was to jig. We had at least 20 flags on the tip-ups; bait gone on them all and no fish. Huh?
“Maybe something else is getting the bait.” Tom surmised. I had caught up with him on Monday at work and was interested in his opinion on the matter. Tom was probably nursing sore arms from reeling-in scads of giant Pike on his own weekend trip. Apparently he had found the “honey-hole” and told me that maybe he wouldn’t ever have to fish for pike anymore because he could never hope to top the fishing he had just experienced. Asshole.
Maybe he’s right, maybe a voracious school of whitefish are pecking our bait to death. I think next weekend I’ll gear-down and see if I can catch some of these interloper bait thieves.
The creek had frozen high this winter and there was enough water to punch-in some holes and fish. Years ago we drilled a few holes and literally “drew mud” indicating insufficient water depth and honestly the thought of ice fishing in the creek after that hadn’t even crossed my mind. Maybe this will be the year, I thought.
I was right.
Dad caught a burbot.
Corey the fish slayer hauling his load back to the cabin.
Mount Susitna bathing in the morning sun.
The sun even shines on a dogs ass every now and then.
