By Simon Ambit
I recently utilized a vacation day and took the family down to Lake Powell. Now, I know what you’re asking, “You loaded up the kids and traveled three hours one-way to go camping for three days?” Yes, we sure did. First off, three hours of travel in a vehicle is not the same for young people now days as it was back when I was a kid. Back then, we didn’t have in-seat television screens, on-board DVD players, iPads, iPods, nor satellite radio. We didn’t have the luxury to throw the earbuds in so that everyone enjoyed their personal favorite playlists. Back then, “IF” you could pick up a station as you traveled between scattered small towns, it was likely an AM station with someone like Rush Limbaugh spouting ideals and all passengers had to listen to what the driver chose.
Despite the journey to Powell, once you step out onto the picturesque sandstone shorelines, it all becomes worth it. While we were there, time slowed and agendas tipped on the verge of extinction. Ample time was spent fishing, which is one of my personal favorite activities. I found it rather interesting as I watched my young son, age seven, sit patiently with the sun setting at his back, waiting for a fish to strike his lure. With the sun now retiring behind the red promontory walls that encapsulate Bullfrog Bay to the West and the sky drawing dark, my young fisherman retired to the campfire where he found the social interactions of his peer cousins and the roasting of mallows.
After the sky had fallen completely dark, I took the liberty to pick up my young son’s pole, tied on a treble hook full of stinky old catfish bait and gave it a cast out into the dark water. Thinking that the results of my efforts were to be a mirror image of his, I casually stuck it into a small crack in a rock outcropping, placed a rock atop the handle and was soon much more caught up in conversation with my brother-in-law than I was with fishing.
As we were telling stories back and forth, that little ball of putrid bait hadn’t been buried in the dark abyss but five minutes when the end of the fishing rod briefly shook with a teasing gesture, sharply dipped twice toward the surface of the water and shot from its perch atop the rock shelf and out into the water. The paint of the rod shimmered in a lightning instant under the reflection of my flashlight before it suddenly disappeared into the night water.
We snorkeled to the bottom for over an hour just after sunrise the next morning but the no avail, the rod was gone forever! This comical little lesson proves that life is full of surprises and we can never let our guard down, nor can we underestimate the power of expired catfish bait and a child’s character fishing rod! Life is good, fish on!