Fishing in the Dark

On a hot summery day I take Sebastian to Griffey for awhile. We manage a few hookups before Grandma and Mom show up. They and Sebastian head into the woods for a hike and I climb into the truck and make tracks for Yellowwood.

The day is perfect for being on the water, but the fishing is slow.

I pass the row boat rentals. That is definitely going to happen, with Sebastian and maybe his mom Lidia.

I work prime stretches of shoreline without getting a rise out of anything.

Time to cross over to the other side.

And to take a break in the cool shade.

The rich bug life hatching out all around is beginning to show up on the float tube or my waders. 

On this shaded side the cicada fly gets some hits.

A muddler variation almost guarantees a bluegill or two or three.

And, as usual, a big bluegill gets to the big bass bug before a bass does.

Then it's whip-poor-will time, and I still have a long kick back to the ramp.

But it's a lovely evening and the leisurely crossing through the moonlight is peaceful and relaxing. I drag a streamer behind me just in case.

Then a light and excited voices come out of the woods and make their way down to the lakeshore.

It's a father and his kids having an adventure: fishing in the dark--just like me. A flood of memories washes over me of the magical moments of my own childhood, of the big night sky and lights in the dark--and I'm thankful that I am doing it all over again.

I watch the bobbing lights and darting shadows and listen to their excited murmurs and feel a part of it all. I silently wish them luck and kick on in.