A picture says a thousand words. An animated .gif says, perhaps, ten-thousand words?
Stephen and I went up to the southern slope of the Baraboo Hills yesterday and fish one of our favorite spots, Otter Creek. The fish weren’t cooperative, but it was a glorious morning and we both enjoyed being back in the forest.
As you can see, Stephen’s casting hasn’t suffered at all. He did struggle to remember how to tie a blood knot, but I explained that he had only just learned that knot earlier this summer, and struggled with it then. The hike got him breathing a bit and he told me on the way back to the car that he was experiencing an endorphin rush. Cool!
Otter Creek in Sauk County, Wisconsin
Jewel Weed blossoms on Otter Creek, Sauk County, Wisconsin
Lobelia Cardinalis – Stephen told me so…
Later in the afternoon a gaggle of friends gathered at Wingra Park for a “last day of summer” picnic. Courtney and Brian, the Balsleys, the Cookes, the Anderson-Browns, and Stephen Rose and his son Heron all got together for grilled sausages, chips, fruit, beers (and sparkling mineral water), and lots of fun.
Brian broke out the frisbees and guess who can throw the frisbee like a laserbeam?
Stephen Rose (with his son Heron in the blue shorts) at Wingra Park, September 3, 2012
We’ve really been taking advantage of Lake Wingra this summer. Late last week we had a picnic at the lake and afterwards we went out and played in the water. It’s a great way to shake off that triple-digit heat.
Enjoy the pics!
Bode, King of the Paddleboard.
Paddleboard Battles on Wingra
Bode and Sawyer enjoying the water on Wingra
Looks like Sawyer took that round.
Sometimes I have to pinch myself. We’ve got it good.
Nice match guys.
Having fun Shep?
A happy, relaxed kid.
Until next time…
Yesterday evening I had the opportunity to get out on my local lake, Lake Wingra, in Madison. The lake is across the street from my humble abode.
I have a “boat” in the “marina” there. I use quotes here because, while both of those nouns within the quotes are true, the sight of either may not make you green with envy (but, as the local joke goes, swimming in the water would probably make you green).
I have a twelve foot long flat-bottomed rowboat acquired two years ago for free from a guy who had it leaning up against his barn since about 1981. I patched it up, replaced the wood seats and transom, and put a coat of paint on it, and it serves me very well, enabling me to get anywhere on Lake Wingra in about 10 minutes using my 38-lb-thrust Minkota trolling motor (also given to me by the farmer).
The marina is dreadfully shallow, even for a boat with a flat bottom, and it looks more like a lily pad water garden that it does a proper place to navigate a boat. The local boat house rental place owns and operates the marina and a couple of years ago they had the whole thing dredged so their rental customers could take boats in and out of the marina without trouble. When I say they had the whole thing dredged I actually mean everything except the area around where people store their own boats. We are left to deal with water depths of anywhere from twelve to twentyfour inches and choked with thick-stemmed lily pads.
Oh Well. I have a boat on a lake and I can go from my front door to my favorite fishing spot in about fifteen minutes, and that includes the walk. It could be worse. A lot worse.
Madison - A city surrounded by water
So, as I was saying, I went out yesterday evening at about six o’clock with my ten-year-old dog and my three-year-old son, both of whom are excellent companions and friends of mine, always up for just about any adventure. I’m in the mode, now that autumn, and then winter, are on the horizon, that I’m looking to get fishing in just about whenever I can. It will be cold soon, you know? So out we went, crossing from the north shore to the south shore of the lake, over to that spot where the bluegills are always hungry.
I rigged up the fly rod as we motored across and by the time we were in the vicinity I was ready to throw that bug out to those waiting fishes.
There were fish rising everywhere, slurping bugs off the top of the water, and somehow you think those big ripples in the water that are made when fish rise can only be made by pretty big fish. By the look of it there are nothing but twenty-inch largemouth bass in the lake.
About every third cast I had a fish on. A bluegill, of course. And they weren’t large, either.
But once I did get something larger on, probably a ten-inch largemouth, and I decided to ask my son to help me reel it in.
Well, a three-year-old doesn’t turn a fly reel crank very quickly, and the fish dove for the weeds and stayed put. Some gentle pulling, followed by forceful yanking did not produce a fish, but instead produced a fly with a broken hook. I feel better about that than I do thinking about a fish swimming around with a full fly or lure stuck in its mouth.
Then the sun was setting and my wonderful son was yawning, so we headed back across the lake to the north shore, struggling to plow through the weeds in the marina. Boat tied up, dog and kid safely back on terra firma, and back home for bedtime. Another great fishing experience.
Me and my doggie went fishing tonight…