David
Heiller
The list has been started, in my head
at least. Jack-knife,
binoculars, good book. Essential things for
a five-day fishing trip.
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| The Socks |
Matches, candle, plenty of socks. About four years ago, it rained so much that all my
socks got wet. Cold feet. I was miserable. It was even worse when I had to
watch the other three guys wearing warm socks and smug smiles.
That was the trip I snuck a rock into
Paul’s pack, which more than made up for my physical discomfort. He still
promises to get me back. I wonder if he will this year?
I wonder at things like that these
days. My thoughts are drifting like a canoe toward our fishing trip, drifting
like that canoe Dave forgot to pull onto a portage last year. It floated across
the bay like a silver phantom, and Dave had to retrieve it using MY canoe. I’ve
got pictures to prove it. I guess I had a smile that time.
Maps, compass,
flashlight. I’ll be working in the garden, and I’ll
feel the wind coming from the northwest, and I’ll wonder how that wind will
feel on Cherokee Lake, how it will affect the fishing.
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| The Paddles. |
On a sunny day, I’ll hope it’s like
that up north. I can almost see that blue water and blue, blue sky. On a rainy
day, I’ll hope we see that weather too, a little at least, just to see the rich
green moss on the rocks, just to appreciate the sun that much more.
I wonder how many sleeping bags Jim
will bring. He used to bring one, but got so cold one year that now he brings
two. Will he go for three this year? He’ll take some teasing on it.
How will Paul fare as the only
smoker? He won’t have Dave to bum them from any more, since Dave kicked the
habit. I think about things like that these days.
The other guys do too. Dave called
two weeks ago and asked in a worried voice if I had my fishing gear ready for
the trip. I laughed and said, “Are you kidding?” He said, “Me neither,” in a
relieved voice. We both will get it ready a few days before, at the most.
Fishing license,
life jacket, Msukanis paddle. My fishing gear will include a red and white spoon with
two red eyes that Dave gave me for Christmas last year. Dave’s will include a
new rod, after he broke his last year on a 20 pound slab of granite.
Our family starts thinking about the
trip too. Cindy has her own list of all the things I need to do before I go. De-tick and shampoo the dog. Get wood chips.
Fill the wood box. Mow the lawn. Sheetrock the porch.
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| The Goodbyes. |
Same with the kids. Malika came out
to the garden on Saturday evening in her nightgown. She said she wanted to say
goodbye. I said it was only Saturday. “We’ll only have a chance to see you
three more times, Sunday, Monday morning, and Tuesday morning,” she said.
I smiled.
It’s not like I’m going off to war or anything. But I didn’t say that, and we
hugged in honor of her love and her dramatic train of thought.
The next morning she put it into
seven-year-old perspective: “Bring me back something,” she reminded me.
Noah asked that I bring home some
fish for him. I said that I would try. Maybe that Red Eye spoon will catch
another eight-pound lake trout, like that one I caught four years ago. I could
show you pictures, but Jim’s camera wasn’t advancing the film. I’ve got to
remind him of that.
Oh yeah,
don’t forget the camera.
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