By HUNTER REDFIELD – Student Contributor
It was a weekend we had been waiting for since the year prior when our days were spent trekking around small wild trout streams, while mornings and evenings were spent at the river stripping streamers for smallmouth.
We talked about it all day at school, and upon arriving home, I gathered my things and waited on Jacob to make his arrival before loading a few more things and leaving. On our way to camp, we stopped at George’s little store and picked up some fresh cut bacon and four bags of ice. Once again, we hit the road and eventually arriving at camp to unload all the things we loaded an hour and a half prior, light a fire, mow a little grass, and then rig up our rods and fish down the stream.
Soon, we saw the truck with the camper, which we knew contained pizza, so we soon headed back upstream, following our empty stomachs and filling them before we rigged up our other rods and headed for the river.
We made our way to the flooded island we had fished the year prior as millions of caddisflies hatched and buzzed through the air.
In a hopeful attempt, we began making casts and soon Jacob said, “Fish on baby!”
I ran across the island to get the fish before it could make an escape and take a few pictures.
The fish was released and we began fishing again, only to soon after hear him say that once again he had hooked a fish and the same process ensued.
Bugs began biting us like mad and no more fish could be hooked, so we made our way to back to camp to make some s’mores and plans for the day to follow before going to bed, hoping the next day turned out better.