Well, It is my policy

not to clean fish. Unless I helped catch them. And I caught lots of fish yesterday. I just finished cleaning them and they now reside in a big bowl in my fridge, gently soaking in a bit of lemon juice, waiting for me to procure steaks, and cook them for dinner.
It was a rather warm day on the lake, with almost no breeze, the mountains of the Front a perfect frame for the cloudless sky. But the perch bite best when it is really hot, and when they are biting you hardly notice the heat. Like you hardly notice your butt going numb from the unpadded boat seat you are sitting on, the ache in your shoulders, the tips of your ears slowly crisping, etc.
Fish on!
Is it big enough to need the net?
And the first few you catch, you must gauge what the size of todays keepers are going to be, are we going for quantity or quality? Do we throw the borderline keepers back in the hopes of cathing some big ones later, at the risk of not catching enough for dinner?
Fish on!
Of all the slimers we caught none made it into the boat. No time for them today.
We happily fished the day away, watched the sun go down behind the mountains, caught a few crawdads as darkness fell, regretted not bringing the tent. Drove home in the peaceful night, with the moon our silvery companion.

9 July 2006 | Life | Comments