The Fishing Trip

   

                                       Word count 522



                                  The Fishing Trip

                                  By Skip Duncan

         “Dad, let’s go,” Nancy impatiently called out.  “The fish will quit biting by the time we get there.”

         “Be right with you, Nancy,” her dad reassured her.  “There’s plenty of fish in Silver Creek Lake, and they will be biting all day long,” he said laughing.  He knew that seven year olds could be impatient.  One thing Nancy looked forward to every summer was to go camping at Silver Creek with her family and go fishing at the lake. 

         “Are the fishing poles in the truck?” he asked, “and what about the fishing worms?” 

         “Yuck,” Nancy said almost gagging.  “I can’t stand to touch them.”

         “Well, if you are going fishing, you have to have some bait to lure them in,” he said laughing.  “Do you think you can put the worm on the hook?”

         “I don’t know,” she said cringing at the thought. 

         “Let’s get in the truck and head for Silver Creek.”  Your mom and Sara will drive up later.

         It didn’t take long for Nancy to jump in the front seat of the old pickup truck.  The long bamboo poles and the can of worms were in the bed of the truck. 

“Double check to see if you have everything,” her dad said. 

         Nancy could hardly wait to get to the lake.  “Dad, I will try to get the worm on the hook.  I hope we can catch a fish this long,” she said holding out her hands about a foot.

         “Well, maybe, but I don’t think so,” her dad laughed.  “They just restocked the lake last year.  I doubt if they will be very big.  We’ll see.”

         Arriving at the little town of Silver Creek, they drove down Main Street and out into the country where the familiar lake was located.  Getting the long bamboo poles and can of worms out of the bed of the pickup, they walked back the path to their favorite fishing spot where there were some rocks.  Yes, this is the spot, Nancy thought.

         Putting her hand down into the can, Nancy pulled out a worm.  “This is awful,” she squealed, but she did it.  She loved to fish but she was no tomboy.

“Do you want me to put a worm on your hook too, Dad?”  She  hoped he would say, “no.”

         “Yes, sure, Nancy.  You did a great job.  I knew you could do it.” 

         The bamboo poles stretched out over the water, they waited for a nibble.  “Dad, are we going to have a fish fry when we get back to the camp?”

         “We’ll see,” her dad replied.  “We’ll see.”

         “I’ve got one!  I’ve got one!” Nancy yelled out with excitement. 

         “It’s a funny looking fish,” her dad replied.

         Pulling up an old tennis shoe from the lake, her dad said “No fish fry with this.” Then quoting Nancy’s grandma’s favorite saying, he said, “If at first you don’t succeed, …” and Nancy finished the sentence. 

         “Yes, I know Dad…try, try, again.”  They both laughed and by 4:00 there were a few tiny crappies in the bucket. 

         “Dad, can we skip the fish fry?”