It Only Happened Once
One of the infuriating things about my buddy Eric was that he ALWAYS beat me trouting. We have trouted in some pretty out of the way places back home, scrabbling over deadfalls, walking through the thick woods where there was no path, one day, maybe more, taking off our or at least my shirt(s) and wetting it in a bog hole to get cool. And I loved it, its a peaceful experience just being out there with no noises but birds and insects. Well except for getting the crap scared out of you when a snipe flew up in your face! Holy god they startled ya!
I remember one summer trip in particular, Eric and I got up about 6 and headed off in the country, making our way to Smith’s Long Pond. I know he definetly beat me again that day, can’t say how by how many, but I think the most memorable part was Vince Smith looking at us when we walked out the path and said “Trouting? TODAY? I looked at the thermometer on my patio at about 3 o’clock and it was 34 degrees!”. You can only imagine how hot we were after beating through the woods. And we both had raccoon faces after from our glasses blocking the sun.
Once though and only once I beat him. It was different than those trips because it was an ice fishing trip to Island pond. I’ve never really had a lot of luck ice fishing, but it was always a great day to get out for a boil up if nothing else. Island pond could also be reluctant to give up trout at the best of times, but because they were so good, we kept trying. This one day, we were fishing down the end of the pond, and I can recall beating him vividly. The tally was pretty easy to take though, I got one, he got none.
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