“This is it. Let’s do it.”
I can remember, that’s what I was thinking at this moment as I watched the boat being made ready for the water. My own silent peptalk.
That was the start of a three-day live-in-a-cabin fishing trip I took last year. I can totally handle the cabin (I don’t even mind regular camping), but it’s the fishing that did me in.
I don’t particularly like the taste of fish to begin with, so the extra toil of pulling them out of the water and making them tasty appeals to me about this much less. That, and I’m not really the “be patient and wait” type. As a side note, I’ll have you know I spent my entire childhood believing the be-patient-and-wait trait was a grown-up gene.
Then I became a grown-up.
But the trip turned out okay. I survived. And my initial looming fears of boredom and extreme anxiety almost completely resided in my head.
As I write this, it strikes me, I’m not really into the nostalgic, throw-back posts (although my good friend Katie is doing it flawlessly on her blog right now). But I came across these pictures when I was looking for pictures of my Dad for last Friday’s post.
It was a funny and unusual situation for me to be in, and I wanted you to know.
There.
I love how you grew out the beard for this trip. Did it make you feel more rugged.
lol, this was actually from last year. I was searching through old pictures. So, I already had the beard fulltime, but it definitely gave me ‘rugged’ points.