Outdoor Life - - HUNTING - Rachel Van­de­voort

“The fish win to­day.” That’s what my Gramps said when we ne­glected to throw

our rods in the truck for a drive to the fish­ing hole two hours from home. And that’s what he’d say when we would get skunked on one of our many fish­ing trips to the lake.

He called it look­ing for fish, and to tell the truth, Gramps did most of the look­ing while I looked for­ward to the catch­ing. Miles, hours, days we looked for fish at that lake. Ther­moses of sug­ary cof­fee, yel­low bags of Lays po­tato chips, Won­der bread and bologna sand­wiches fueled our fish­ing trips. We’d look for fish when it was so cold the eye­lets froze up af­ter every third strip of line, and when it was so windy that we could barely cast. There were days when we’d drive right up to the lake and sit in the cab of the truck, hop­ing for a break in the weather so we could look for fish.

“The fish win to­day,” Gramps would say when he sur­ren­dered to the weather and turned for home.

I used to think we spent all those days just look­ing for fish, but years later, I know that what I re­ally found on those trips was time with Gramps. And that’s some­thing that I can never find again.

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