Fisher Queen

I remember listening to my family’s fishing stories with such awe. The bigger the fish he gloated about, the bigger my eyes grew. One day, I was going to catch a big fish. Not just any fish though; I was set on a pike. A pike that was big enough to grill on the barbecue. I’d heard the adults say that is the best way to cook a fish. Most importantly, however I’d never admit it, my pike has to be bigger than my sister’s fish. This summer, I would be crowned Fishing Queen. The highest honor in my eight year old eyes.

I could hear the birds singing from outside the Man Van, an old hunting RV that my family would stay in when we visited grandma and grandpa’s. To me, the singing was an invitation to come outside. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but this was good. Before the sun gets hot, that’s when the fish bite, I told myself.

The light was gently reflecting off the lake, illuminating the fog that was rising up from the waters. I grabbed my fishing rod, pushed the paddle boat off the sand and hopped inside. The boat was damp and slippery. My bottom was now cold and wet. Not the most pleasant way to wake up- but I had a mission. Once I was far enough from shore, I cast out my line with a little fishing lure at the end. Then I’d start paddling. I’d paddle all around the cove over and over again. Each time I’d get caught on a weed I’d reel it back in, clean it off and cast it back out. After about an hour, I’d have enough.

Day after day. Week after week. Early in the morning before the sun was up, I was out paddling the lake. In the middle of the day, I was out on the lake. In the night, you’d better believe I was out in that boat with my fishing pole!

One afternoon, I was doing my rounds around the cove while my cousin and my sister were swimming near the beach. I felt a tug. Then another tug. Then PULL! “I have a fish!” I hollered as I pedaled at full speed toward my cousin and my sister. I was reeling as fast as my arms would allow, zigzagging across the water as the fish fought me. He knew he was my prize fish. My ticket to Fishing Queendom.

Immediately, the kids jumped out of the water and raced to get grandma. I was just about onto shore when I was outsmarted. My big ol’ pike swam under the boat. In a panic, I tried to pull him into my paddle boat. In an epic battle, the tension was at an all time high. Then the unthinkable happened, my line broke and I watched my fish- my glorious fish- quickly swim back into the depths of the lake.

My heart sank to the bottom of the lake with my fish. In an instant, the excitement was gone. Grandma made her way down to the beach just in time to witness my defeat. I told everyone I was fine, and that I’d catch it next time. But truthfully, I was devastated. I was SO close and now I was back where I had started.

Although beat, that fish was out there and he wasn’t going to catch himself. I was smarter now- I wasn’t going to let him get away this time. With that said, he was smarter too- he might be more hesitant to bite. I’d have to step up my game.

So, back out in the paddle boat I went. Morning, day and night- it was me, my fishing rod and the paddle boat. Days and days. Weeks and weeks. My grandparents' neighbours would watch me make my rounds as they had their coffees each morning. I felt like I was glowing; I loved having an audience.

One evening, I was trolling around the cove. Pedaling away, I felt a tug. Another weed- shoot. Then there was another tug. This was no weed- I had a fish! “I’ve got a fish!” I yelled to the shore. Everyone was inside- figures. I wasted no time. I paddled at full speed toward the beach. Switching between both hands on the pole to reel and wrestle and one on the stick to steer..

When I got to the beach, I hopped out the boat and ran onto the beach. Like I said, I was smarter this time. This feisty fish was not going to even have the chance to swim under my boat. At the end of my line, was a beast of a pike. I cheered so loud, the whole lake would’ve known I’d done it- I’d caught my prize fish. And he was bigger and badder than the fish before. I swear it!

As grandma made her way down to the beach, I was grinning ear to ear. All the early mornings had paid off. I was so excited, I didn’t even mind having to touch his slippery skin. “Will we be able to cook it?” I was eager to impress everyone with a fish caught from our very own Whitestone Lake. She smiled at me- it was a yes! I held the fish up as high as I could for a photo, mind you, he was incredibly heavy.

I won’t ever forget that summer-the summer I was the Fishing Queen. Today, the photo of the pike and I hangs in my grandparent’s house- the fish was too long to be in one frame, so his second half hangs outside the photo frame.