There is something to be said about lakes that have atmosphere, not all are blessed with it and some can be quite lacking in character, almost soulless. This venue ticks all my boxes, wooded mangrove islands, bays and a plethora of underwater features to place a bait to. The fish are in perfect condition, no damaged mouths to be found, consisting of quite a few Dinkelsbuehl breed, along with tench, perch and rudd, a nice mixture. My last couple of trips have been in the shape of late evening to early morning sessions, getting down at dusk and usually settling into a swim as the Nightjar begins to call out in earnest. Keeping clutter to a minimum, a couple of four piece stalker rods, small baitrunners all which fit neatly into a compact holdall …show more content…
At 3am my left rod tore off along a deep margin and I was soon playing what felt a better fish, after a nice scrap there a rather short, plump female sat in the net and it looked mid double, at least 15lb was my guesstimate. She had quite a distended belly, in fact it could have matched mine on a lesser scale and she was in perfect condition with a proud set of barbules, weighing less than I had estimated. Morning broke and along with it a very rich dawn chorus filled the air, I had the feeling of contentment and timelessness, although in reality it was not long before I had to be packing up. All of the fish had fallen to my left rod during the night, the right rod which was placed on a gravel bar further out had remained quiet. A quick look at my watch told me I had forty minutes left, fifteen of which were allotted to packing up, enough time for a morning brew and maybe one last …show more content…
Compensation in the form of a steaming cup of tea was soon to hand, I sat absorbing the gloriously sunny morning, part of me partially lost to this place, immersed in its aura, the other half being drawn ever closer to the heartbeat of running
What episode or even seems to be the one that precipitates the action? (In other words, what is the trigger point?) What was the state of affairs before this?
Nature has a powerful way of portraying good vs. bad, which parallels to the same concept intertwined with human nature. In the story “Greasy Lake” by T. Coraghessan Boyle, the author portrays this through the use of a lake by demonstrating its significance and relationship to the characters. At one time, the Greasy Lake was something of beauty and cleanliness, but then came to be the exact opposite. Through his writing, Boyle demonstrates how the setting can be a direct reflection of the characters and the experiences they encounter.
Around noon, my family and I head out to the dock. We each grab a fishing rod,
In T.C. Boyle’s coming-of-age short story, Greasy Lake, three rebellious 19 year old boys, Jeff, Digby, and the narrator, thought it was good to be bad, smoking marijuana, drinking beer, and listening to rock and roll, however when they were out looking for trouble like most, almost adult, teenagers, they taunted someone who ,mistakenly, was not the friend they had mistaken him for, they freaked and almost killed the “greasy” man and his girlfriend, they were startled by a car and hid because they did not know if they man was dead or not and didn’t wanted to be blamed for the incident. After seeing a dead man’s body floating, the narrators mind changes, all of the sudden the rebellious attitude disappears. Now
Sometimes when decisions are made, they result in the most inconsidered consequence. In “The Bass, the River, and Sheila Mant”, the main character, a fishing fanatic, finally reels in a date with Sheila Mant, otherwise known as the woman of his dreams, who is uninterested with fishing. During the date, the main character rows Sheila down the river in a boat, where she states, “I think fishing is dumb, it’s boring and all, it’s just dumb.” (Wetherall 3). Meanwhile, an astronomical-sized fish is tugging on the main character’s line.
“The Fish” by Elizabeth Bishop is an excellent poem that goes beyond its straightforward subject. She vividly describes the act of catching a fish while also utilizing the thematic elements of figurative language, imagery and tone to bring many more ideas into the picture. Overall “The Fish” is a poem that champions the beauty of nature while also putting forth a negative connotation on all things artificial through a simple topic.
shrimp on the hook, crack open a Red Bull and reach the point of relaxation. Fishing is all about
What does it mean to be “bad”? In his short story “Greasy Lake”, T. Coraghessan Boyle writes: “There was a time when chivalry and winning ways went out of style, when it was good to be bad”. Being “bad” can mean dressing uniquely and acting differently, but there is a line between being a “bad” character and being truly “bad”. When that line is crossed unfortunate things happen to the character. Boyle uses the setting of Greasy Lake to show how a teenage wasteland can lead to moral decay.
Standing on the balcony, I gazed at the darkened and starry sky above. Silence surrounded me as I took a glimpse at the deserted park before me. Memories bombarded my mind. As a young girl, the park was my favourite place to go. One cold winter’s night just like tonight as I looked upon the dark sky, I had decided to go for a walk. Wrapped up in my elegant scarlet red winter coat with gleaming black buttons descending down the front keeping away the winter chill. Wearing thick leggings as black as coal, leather boots lined with fur which kept my feet cozy.
The tiles were still dirty from the residue of chlorine and pittle combined into one thick layer of impossible gunk. This gunk surrounded the edge of pool right where the water met the lowest part of the tile and was even apparent underneath the shallow water fountain around the back end. The ring had been worn away in spots where the missus had got so fed up that she was gonna put an end to this "ring of filth" once and for all. A few times she had started, but had always found a broken nail or straying hair to become spontaneously obsessive about when her arm got tired of scrubbing.
The ruckus from the bottom of the truck is unbearable, because of the noise and excessive shaking. As we slowly climbed the mountain road to reach our lovely cabin, it seemed almost impossible to reach the top, but every time we reached it safely. The rocks and deep potholes shook the truck and the people in it, like a paint mixer. Every window in the truck was rolled down so we could have some leverage to hold on and not loose our grip we needed so greatly. The fresh clean mountain air entered the truck; it smelt as if we were lost: nowhere close to home. It was a feeling of relief to get away from all the problems at home. The road was deeply covered with huge pines and baby aspen trees. Closely examining the surrounding, it looks as if it did the last time we were up here.
Walking through the woods never fails to clear my mind. After spending all day sitting in a stale classroom, filled with stress, confusion, and overwhelming responsibilities, taking a long stroll through the familiar woods behind my grandmother’s house lifts any worries that could ever weigh me down. I never wander through aimlessly. I always follow the trail of grass that has been deliberately cut down shorter than the rest, making it easier to tread through to the small creek at the end of the trail. The entire journey through the woods behind my grandmother’s house, there and back, first took on a whole new importance in my life during my junior year of high school.
The water beats at the bank feel gently, and resides carefully to avoid over soaking it. The air is fresh and overwhelming with cool gushes of wind blowing past, provoking the trees to yawn and some times sleep. It was a lovely Valentine day and perfect for a picnic at Lake Lavon.
I think we all have a beautiful place in our mind. I have a wonderful place that made me happy a lot of times, years ago. But sometimes I think that I am the only person who likes this place and I'm asking myself if this place will be as beautiful as I thought when I will go back to visit it again. Perhaps I made it beautiful in my mind.
For those who like winter sports like skiing and snowboarding, we have just the perfect place- the remote yet very popular mountain resort called Balea Lake.