It's been around 20 years since I last went Paddlefishing. The following
story may or may not be the reason that I've declined to go for so long. If
you don't know what Paddlefishing is, rest assured it is not hitting fish
with paddles to stun then harvest them.
The prehistoric looking
Paddlefish has no bones, just a cartilage tube
running the length of its
spine. They have a long paddle-shaped snout, or
rostrum that give the fish
its common name. The dense, fleshy, white meat is
both delicious and always
boneless of course. This is why they are sought
after by fisherman. Since
they are plankton eaters, they cannot be caught by
the traditional hook and
line methods. They are snagged with large treble
hooks attached to 30 lb or
higher test line, and cast by 10 foot rods, lead
into the water by a Five
ounce weight. Your opinion may vary, but that's
what I used. It's a real
testosterone blow out, let me tell ya'.
A friend of mine started taking
me to the Yellowstone River in eastern
Montana for this adventure. After
several successful yearly trips, I decided
to share the experience with my
family and brought them along. My wife's
sister lives just a few miles from
the best fishing spot for these fish that
can weigh 70-100 pounds or more on
occasion.
The best fishing seems to be at night, so I sent her and the
kids into town
to stay at her sister's while I tried to catch my limit of
two in the
moon-light. I was able to land one after a brief struggle with
the 14 MPH
river current, large fish, little to no light and a surprise log
tripping me
in spectacularly clumsy fashion. I fished straight through until
dawn and
after many hours of casting, reeling, and jerking like a madman, I
was
understandably tired and sore, so I sought refuge by sitting on my
cooler.
Inside my cooler was cans of Coke and lots of Ding-Dongs. Whenever I
would
get tired, I would simply drink a coke and pop a Ding-Dong in my
mouth. The
sugar-rush was pretty intense and lasted long enough to fish a
while
longer.
As the morning sun was warming the air and my skin, I
sat on the cooler and
began to daydream and relive the nights activities. I
had just called my
wife from my archaic cell phone and told her she could
come get me any
time. So, I waited.
Meanwhile, the beach had filled
up with more fishermen. Most casts were
flying well over 100 yards due to
the large size of the sinker. That is, all
except for the casts of this very
old gentleman directly in front of me. His
casts would go about 20 feet and
he snagged the rocks below on every cast.
It was a little painful and
pathetic to watch, but he devised a method of
breaking his line and retying
the equipment without losing his place on the
beach, as it was now
elbow-to-elbow fishermen. The only way to get a place
was if someone caught
a fish and ended up down stream to land it or someone
snapped their line
because they snagged on rocks and were unable to break
free. The old
gentleman must have been out of replacement rigs because at
one point, he
was snagged and was just pulling and pulling and not wanting
to cut his
line. Several moments went by and I lost interest in watching him
grapple
his pole. I began daydreaming once again. Or, it was a small Coke
and
Ding-Dong induced sugar comma. I'm not sure which, but CRACK.... I was
lying
flat on my back with my hands over my face wincing in pain. I had no
idea
what had happened.
Somehow by constantly pulling and yanking on the
snagged-up rig, the darn
thing came dislodged. Unfortunately the old guy was
pulling with all his
might when that happened, sending a Five ounce lead
weight rocketing out of
the shallow water leveraged by a long fishing pole
at full bend. Having only
20 Feet of line out made everything happened so
quickly, no one had time to
tell me to duck, as I was obviously only 19 feet
behind him. I took the
impact of the weight directly on my right eye. My
plastic right eye-glass
lens shattered into bits, no doubt saving my eye and
possibly my life. Yes,
there was some blood and a swarm of people above me
when I became brave
enough to let an off-duty EMT pry my hands off of my
face. Some in attendance
recalled to me how amazing of a sound the impact
had made and that it kind
of made them a little sick to their stomachs. I
apologized for their inconvenience as
I collected my thoughts and got myself
upright. The old guy that had nearly
cost me my sight was nice enough to
come ask if I was "OK" and had I seen
his sinker anywhere.
"Ya I saw
it a little bit ago, as a matter of fact" I sarcastically muttered, as I sat
there with my one lens in the eye-glass frame that covered my now
overly
bandaged face.
My wife showed up soon after and had heard of
the accident while waking from
the parking lot to the beach. Somehow, she
knew it was me before she even
got a description of the victim. If you know
me well enough, you would just
assume it was me too. I think she was most
upset at the fact that she was
now going to have to drive the 450 miles home
herself. Since I was am
legally required to wear my necessary prescription
eye-glasses while driving
a motorized vehicle.
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