Last Friday I decided to do a little fishing before the snow fall. I grabbed my friend’s canoe and headed out.
The pike were biting hard and I had one on the chain. After being out a bit, I decided to haul the canoe up on shore and head to a new location. The chain with the fish was attached to the front of the canoe. I leaned forward to grab it up and it slipped a little so I got up and hauled him inside. Now I was set to head back onto shore ... except for one thing: Where was my paddle? I had it right in front of me, but now it was gone. I must have knocked it into the water while I was messing with that pike! I looked all around the canoe and saw nothing. I grabbed the other paddle and began my frantic search. I went down river — nothing. I went back up — nothing. I got out on the opposite shore and walked — nothing. I went back to my spot wondering if some undercurrent had sucked it down and got it stuck — still nothing. I was so nervous. This wasn’t my canoe and these weren’t my paddles. As the night began to get darker, I had to resign to the fact that the paddle must have floated away and was gone. I didn’t want to give up, but knew this was a futile effort. It was good fishing, but I wasn’t nearly as excited about that pike anymore.