The Dirty Gut Derby
14 July 2010, early morning
Casey invited me up to his cottage for a weekend long fishing derby. Being an organized young man, invitations went out almost a year ago. I guess that’s how you make sure people keep their schedules clear.
I started talking shit about my fishing prowess more or less a year ago as well:
My family is from a peninsula on a fucking Island. It almost seems unfair to compete. This is pretty much how I spend my weekends.
Of course, none of my family can swim. Apparently Jaffna Tamils are too busy trying to get their children to become doctors to bother going swimming in the ocean. Last month I confirmed I was going to make it up to the cottage with the following quip:
I actually broke my leg on purpose to give myself a handicap.
Sadly, my trash talking didn’t actually help with my fishing. My first outing out on the rocks of the Ottawa river resulted in one broken bobber, and one lost at sea. During my second round of fishing, on the dock at Casey’s cottage, I managed to tangle the line of my rod and then proceed to tangle the line of Tyler’s rod. My third attempt at fishing in the evening resulted my fishing line getting tangled up in a tree. (I did manage to untangle myself from the tree, which felt like a real accomplishment.) Unfortunately, I tangled up my line the next time I tried to cast off. I’m not entirely sure how.
I was all set to retire from the competition when Matt decided to try and untangle my line. He decided that his new mission was to make sure I catch at least one fish. My line was so tied up he quickly moved on from trying to untangle it to cutting the line and getting me set up again. It was dusk so he quickly ended up covered in mosquito bites, but my fishing rod was ready for action. I cast off one last time, and moments later I saw my bobber dip in the water. I had apparently caught something. I reeled in the fish for what felt like a long time: it was a battle. At this point I realized that I don’t actually know what to do after you’ve caught the fish. Sean, who was currently building our camp fire, came over to see what was up. It turns out the tension on my fishing line was super low; he adjusted that and the reeling in process went a lot quicker. Sean was also there to actually pick my fish up out of the water, hang on to it while I snapped a picture, get the hook out, and throw it back in the water. I caught a cat fish. It was a team effort.
