The next day the guys went fishing again while the gals went into Windsor to shop. We hit three shopping centers and I’m sure the Queen will be sending me a thank you card. (Ok, not the Queen. Just kidding. The Prime Minister.) Anyhoo, I’m sure Canada was glad to be rid of all those pesky souvenir magnets and key chains, not to mention all the short ladies clothing they couldn’t unload otherwise. All in all, a good haul.
Sunrise saw us setting sail in the wee hours, once again in search of the elusive Walleye Pike, or as the Canadians know it, the Pickerel. Capt. Roger heard on the radio that the other fishermen in the area were using orange lures with good results, so we all selected something orange and set our worms adrift. Hours ticked by. The “Fish Finder” on board reported plenty of activity, but whatever it was, they weren’t interested in our hooks.
Now, usually in this type of situation, I grow restless and begin trying every lure in the box. 30 minutes on white. 30 minutes on green. 30 minutes on yellow… and so on. Finally in frustration I reach for the Ugly Lure. That’s the least appealing (in my eyes) item in the tackle box. The one I really wouldn’t mind losing in the weeds. I figure if I hate it, fish must love it. But not today. I held fast.
Mr. Right suggested I try an orange spinner. I have orange, I said through clenched teeth. It was orange and green, with a bit of black spotting, making it look leopard. It would work. Leave me alone!
Around eleven, Capt. Roger started reeling them in left and right. He left us in the dust with an impressive array of Pickerel, Bass and Sheep Heads. Ok, so that last one is a junk fish, but at least he was getting bites. After all, it was his boat. No wonder he was so good at it.
All of a sudden I got a hit! A big one, it seemed! I triumphantly brought on board a 22”, 4 lb. Pickerel! Whoo Hoo!
Unfortunately, Capt. Roger landed a slightly bigger one shortly thereafter. But I beat Mr. Right! And that’s all that really mattered!
I also learned one of the biggest secrets of fishing…hold the fish close to the camera and when the picture is taken, it will look much bigger. It works!
Yum. Nothing like eating fresh fish mere hours after catching it. The next morning, we left super early and headed back to the bridge. As usual, the guard on the American side was much snottier than his Canadian counterpart. Trust me, there’s no place to hide WMD’s in a Vette. I barely had enough room for my new purchases.
Speaking of… on the way home we needed a quart of oil. You know, the stuff I used to pay 99 cents for. Since we had used the quarts we brought (yes, the engine needs rebuilding) I ran into a gas station to buy one. $5!!!! FIVE BUCKS! For one lousy quart of oil!! The whole incident gives new meaning to the term highway robbery!!!!
On the way back we drove through Chicago. I think it was Chicago. Looked pretty post-apocalyptic to me. Not exactly the pretty night skyline you can see from the lake. This looked like a bombed-out section of Baghdad. Talk about “don’t break down, don’t break down, don’t break down”…
So that was my exciting summer vacation. Everyone else I’ve spoken to has gone to Europe. As soon as I can pay to have the car shipped overseas, I’m there!
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