The alarm clock rang at the peak of the morning. I woke. It was 9am. Immediately I jumped out of bed and slid the shutters open. The sun shone down on the crystal clear water. It crawled along the grass, peeking its head into the nearby windows of the tourist apartments.
One foot outside and I began to feel the blistering burn from the fireball in the sky. I lathered on a coat of sunblock and off I went. Step after step, the closer I got to the sand, the less I was able to tolerate the heat. I stepped on the brown beach. The sediments from the sand gnawed at my feet. Realising I was unable to reach the water by foot, I decided to go fishing instead.
I gathered my gear together and off I went. The boat was only a minutes walk as it was anchored at the nearby dock. I swiftly visited a nearby shop to gather resources to keep me cool through the intense weather. After scoffing down two double scoop, vanilla ice-creams dipped in dreamy chocolate sauce, I was
…show more content…
It had a golden sparkle among it as it had been freshly polished. I leaped on board and waited for a few others to embark the charter. Inside was even better. The ligneous flooring had been freshly buffed, and the spiral staircase leading to the top deck was freshly vacuumed, with newly laid, white carpet.
The powerful engines were started, and the journey had begun. The boat flew along the water, and soon enough our destination was in sight. Anchored down near a small island was the perfect place to be. Hundreds of fish roamed this area, and I was bound to catch something.
We were ready. Ready to launch our poles out into the deep dark sea. My right hand on the reel, my left on the pole. With one swift move, the rod swung behind my head, and shot the lure out into the air. The sinker and hook landed a fair distance from where we were stood. Once I was fully satisfied with where my bait was sitting, I handed my fishing rod to the
We set out early the next day just as dawn awoke to light our way. We wanted to put distance between us and the island of the cyclops. I had thought that the ram I had sacrificed the night before had brought us good fortune, but I was to be proven wrong. The sea glittered like millions of lustrous jewels all dancing in the placid waves of the ocean. The ocean seemed to lap at the boats, encouraging them to sail faster towards the distant lands. Wisps of white fluffy clouds streaked the light blue sky as if a painter had lazily taken his brush and dabbed it in a few places; it seemed accidental, but in reality it created a master peace. The fresh sea breeze blew in our faces along with gusts of wind that danced in the air and propelled the boats on; it seemed to beckon us to explore the ocean. It was one of the days that seemed as though nothing
Looking to her left and right she looked for a semi empty space on the beautiful white sand that stretched for miles long each ways. Laying her vibrant colorful towel in the sand laying down ready to catch some rays. In not time she was sweating like a pig. She decided to get into the water feeling the cool refreshing water hit her toes first then traveling all the way up her body. After cooling off she headed back to the house in the late afternoon heat.
In the emerging daylight floating debris could still be seen drifting on the surface. The captain maintained speed pushing the drifting flotsam from the tugboat’s bow. It was not long before the first swells of the Bay of Biscay slid beneath them giving their ferry a gentle rise and fall. They overtook a small fishing boat on its way out to start its day’s catch. The Breton fishermen gave a somber wave to the overcrowded tugboat, returned with enthusiasm by the escaping refugees.
I leaned back and started reeling in my catch. When my fish surfaced, it ended up being a 3lb tuna. It was amazing how something so small could out up a fight. As the sun started to rise the fish seemed to disappear. My fishing pole stiffly lingered over the water as if time had stopped.
Fishing tests your patience; if you want to catch a fish, you’re going to have to wait. I dip my feet into the icy water of the river and wait, wait, wait. I feel relaxed, surrounded by nature, but the air around me is also buzzing with the excitement. Goats graze on the grass that grows atop the rocky cliff across from me, and a gentle breeze whispers through the ivy that drapes over it. My hands are gripped tightly around my rod, ready to reel up my first catch, ready for the weight of a monster fish, ready for anything. Out of nowhere, I feel the slightest tug on my line and see a flash of rainbow scales beneath the water. I see my fishing rod bending with weight, which could mean only one thing: FISH ON! I begin to reel it in, inch by inch. The trout flies out of the water, glistening as the setting sun reflects off of its scales. The sky is ablaze, full of different shades of magenta, orange, and scarlet. It was as if an artist had painted the sky with the skillful strokes of their paintbrush. I hear my parents gasp with awe behind me. The first
This morning I wake early from the light that creeps underneath my blinds and my bed next to the window. I wake floating on the streams of light, heated, like white wax spilled across the floor, dripping, soft. In bare feet I walk down the stairs, cold on the wood, and find my father in the kitchen, also awake early. Together, we leave the house, the house that my parents built with windows like walls, windows that show the water on either side of the island. We close the door quietly so as not to wake the sleepers. We walk down the pine-needle path, through the arch of trees, the steep wooden steps to the dock nestled in the sea-weed covered rocks. We sit silently on the bench, watch as the fog evaporates from the clear water. The trees and water are a painting in muted colors, silver and grays and greenish blue, hazy white above the trees.
Closer and closer to the calm water, I began sinking deeper in the sand. It was comforting, the silence, tranquility, and warmth of the faint sun. There is a slight breeze, warm, but cold and lonely. I could smell the scent of fish blowing through my hair and body. The sun was still fading, slowly but surely the day was almost over. About half of it is gone now. I could see shades of blue, red, purple, and pinkish-yellow. They were mixed with puffy clouds that lined the beginning of the sky and the end of the water. I noticed the darker shades on the bottom of the lower clouds.
He rowed towards it, but a thought frightened him: just because you get to land, doesn't mean you'll be any less lost. He shook his head and continued to row, getting into a pleasant rhythm, enjoying the arc of his shoulders and arms and the predictable resistance as his oars pulled his boat through the water, leaving behind a steady wake. He reached the dilapidated dock and reached over the side of his boat, tying whatever could be tied to keep his boat anchored.
A new day has begun. Slowly ascending into the cold dark sky, the sun glows vibrantly with delight. The passionate colours fill the sky with warmth like the pink grapefruits, zesty lemons, citrus oranges and cherry red. The sea so subtle sparkles preciously as it strolls up against the shore. The crystal water that stretch out far into the horizon gets darker and deeper but stays very calm.
The dull light of the sun somehow manages to kindle my senses in a way I had never seen or felt before. Everything felt like it came to a standstill and the effect of the light made the scene look like one in a painting. The waves break gently into white foam on the black beach. The small crystals in the sand glimmer and twinkle brilliantly against the sunrays. The seagulls ride with the wind and the soft sand cushions my toes.
Finally my father grabs the net and plunges it into the water as the fish makes its final approach I menubar the line and fish swim perfectly into the net, victory! The joy I feel is immense a feeling that before this moment myself had never had the pleasure of feeling. I lift the fish from the net and crack the hook from its mouth with minimal effort. The fish is hard the touch pure muscle, teeth sharp very easily one of the apex predator of the lake. The snap of the camera signifies the end to the battle as I stand next to my father slain beast in hand
We arrived at the Lodge at night and before I went to sleep, the only thing that entered my mind was catching an enormous fish this year. I was in Canada, not Ohio and could not wait for what tomorrow would bring. I leaped from the ground onto the soft cozy bed and rested my head upon the fluffy marshmallow like pillow. I attempted to go to bed, but could not stop thinking of what tomorrow would bring. I had to try to sleep; otherwise, I would be exhausted all day on the boat. So far the biggest fish that I caught was a 41 inch, which is big but I was hungry and determined that I could beat my record. Beating my record has always been a goal of mine, and I hope it can happen this year. Bitterness was all throughout my mouth and I was committed of catching a bulky and larger fish this year. I carried my jacket, fishing pole, and snacks to take on the boat. I love to go fishing when the weather is nice. The first day that we started fishing was a quiet warm summer day. The peaceful lake was a mirror as I could see my reflection in the cold shallow water. The occasional bird chirps bounced off my ear as I patiently waited to catch a fish. The blue fishing rod is tightly close to me. I casted the bait out and when it hit the water a faint plop arose. All of a sudden, the fishing pole
With stress on my mind and a cookie in my hand, I headed towards the wooded area behind her home. At the beginning of the trail, there was an old rotting tire swing barely hanging onto a low-hanging branch. The extensive amount of muddy puddles and the surrounding damp grass made me hesitant to follow through with my grandmother’s suggestion; the mountain of homework that waited for me back at home convinced me to continue. Trees towered over me, adding to the existing weight of stress that sat upon my shoulders, as I carefully maneuvered around the biggest puddles, beginning to become frustrated. Today was a terrible day to go for a walk, so why would my grandmother suggest this? Shaking my head in frustration, I pushed forward. The trail was slightly overgrown. Sharp weeds stabbed my sides every few steps, and I nearly tripped over a fallen tree branch. As the creek barely came into view, I could feel the humidity making my hair curly and stick to the sides of my face. After stopping to roll up the ends of my worn blue jeans, I neared the end of the trail. Bright sunlight peeked through the branches and reflected off the water. The sun must have come out from behind a cloud, seeing as it now blinded me as I neared the water. A few minutes passed by before I could clearly see
When my father and I arrived to our destination, at five o’clock that morning, the smell of freshly cut grass slaps me in the face, almost taking my breath away. As I unloaded my dad’s 1997, red, two door, low rider, Sonoma truck, my dad called me to this dirt pile. But this dirt pile was no ordinary dirt pile. The dirt smelt like an “outhouse”. My dad said, “Rose, this is where you will be getting your bait to fish.” I was thinking to myself, “There is no way I’m putting my hand in that crap.” I pulled out my little tackle box full of hooks, weights, and every color of artificial worm a person could think of and said with a frown, “Dad! I am just going to use these worms today and I will use the real ones next time.” My dad laughed, pulled ...
I kept pulling and reeling the rod as fast as I could. A turtle flung out the water and shot into the air. Out of all the fish in the lake I ended up being the first to catch a turtle. Fishing was not an easy task; I finally put my pole down and wanted to do something more adventurous. Mike and I decided to do something very irresponsible.