How Apples Fall BY: M.D. Mynhier Sipping on the first glass from a pitcher of Key lime margaritas, I settled to thinking about my last fishing trip with Seth. I recalled, it was a good day with mostly blue skies. There was a fair wind from the east that put chop on the water as we maneuvered the boat into the harbor to a spot I knew held cobia, reds and an assortment of shark like the small bonnethead that grew to about three feet and at a glance, look like hammerheads and their also were the mean tempered medium-sized bulls and the sleek balcktip sharks that went up to six or seven feet in length. I could tell that him being a freshwater fisherman, he was not sure about fishing open water where there was no structure you could see, but I knew he trusted my judgment and was okay with wherever I wanted to fish. I throttled-back and with the bow into the wind, anchored the boat and set about rigging the rods. It was the first time I had fished with Seth since Kentucky and that was before he was a married man. Back in the hills, we wade-fished all the creeks and the shallow sections of rivers where we had filled stringers with smallmouth, walleye, largemouth and from time to time, a muskie or two. Saltwater fishing was a different animal than he was used to and when I pulled a fifteen-inch ladyfish out of the cooler and quartered it, he asked, “What are we fishing for?” I said, “Fish with mouths big enough to swallow a chunk of ladyfish whole!” I set four rods and all that was left was the wait. We laughed and talked catching up on old times as we awaited the bite. It was his first trip to Florida since he was a twelve-year old. His first taste of Florida was Key West and he had never forgotten the fun we had fishing on that trip. About thirty-minutes in, and as we were talking, the drag started singing on one of the Penn reels. He reached for it and I said, “Let it get it down good.” He held the rod and the fish was ripping off line and finally I said, “Break his jaw.” Seth reeled down, letting the rod tip go low to the water and when it was where he wanted it, he ripped upward and the battle was on. The rod bent and Seth grunted as it made run after run. After several minutes, I got a quick look at it as it sliced beneath the water. I yelled, "Shark or cobia!” I could not tell what brand it was, but I knew it was a nice one. A few minutes he had it banging against the stern and I knew it was a bull shark. I handed him the gaff and he pulled it aboard. I was as proud as if I had landed that bull myself. He handled it as well as any fish he had ever hooked when we fished the streams together. He was my youngest offspring and although I had never doubted it for a moment, it was good to spend time with him and reconfirm that he was what I had always known he was; a man that has what it takes. Signed copies of my novel “Where Islands Are” are $10.99 while they last, plus $5.01 postage making the total $16.00. Make your check or money order payable to M.D. Mynhier. Mailing address: Where Islands Are, 2395 Harbor Blvd, Condo 218, Port Charlotte, FL 33952 You can also find my novel, “Where Islands Are”@amazon books for Kindle and in paperback
Posted on: Sun, 08 Sep 2013 02:20:11 +0000