Hole
in the Ice
I
am happy to report that praying has helped our resident "old timers" force
Mother Nature to freeze the lake from shore to shore. As is my daily habit I looked out our window a
few days back to see if the fog was still there, and it wasn't. In its place were clear air and a large sheet
of ice where the lake used to be. The
ice was speckled with black dots converging on one particular spot like ants heading
for a sweet pickle dropped at a picnic.
I remember that the first thing I heard when I moved to Bear Lake was
that there is a fishing "sweet-spot" on the lake where all the trophy
size fish gather under the winter ice and beg to be caught. I was also told that its location, known only
by a privileged few, is guarded so carefully by those in the know that if I were
to persist in asking and managed to discover its coordinates, a hit-man from
Chicago would be called in to take me for a ride and then feed my carcass to
the turkeys on Sweetwater Hill. Fear of
becoming turkey droppings has caused me to remain mum all these years. But now, all those who are looking to catch
the "big one" only have to follow the recent footprints out onto the
ice just north of Gus Rich Point, cut a hole in the ice where the tracks end,
and drop your lure into the water because you have reached THE SPOT.
With
the spot now revealed I can focus on a related but different fishing issue that
is causing me great concern. My two friends,
the math professor and Scott the fish addict, have been trying to get me out on
the ice to fish. Even though I told them
that I don't like fish or fishing, and I especially don't like venturing out on
ice that barely separates me from the cold slush that hides below, they
continue to coax and wheedle as they assure me of the great fun I will have out
there in the clear, cool air listening to the melodic pinging that signals a
crack zipping across the ice toward my feet.
The more I protest the more they harangue. I have attempted to discourage them by doing
and saying little things to irritate them but, to quote Joel Stein in a recent Time Magazine article, "Getting on the nerves of a math nerd
is inversely proportional in difficulty to a math nerd's getting on the nerves
of other people." That applies
equally to fish addicts, especially because my two friends are harnessed to the
same goal like a team of Clydesdales dragging me relentlessly toward the ice.
Last
Saturday I was prepared to slip into a disguise and observe what really goes on
at a Cisco Disco and then report
my observations to the wives of those in attendance, hoping to direct the
pressure away from me and toward the voracious participants. Sadly, my long-handle jammies kept me so warm
that I overslept. But this is what I expected
to find had I driven down the east side of the lake toward Cisco beach early in
the morning. First would have come the
throbbing of the Voodoo drums, not heard but felt. As I drove closer the sound of the drums would
have become audible along with the chanting voices, "Cisco, Cisco, more scones, more scones, Cisco, Cisco, more scones
more scones." And finally, had I
continued onto the beach, I would have come upon a circle of old men wearing
hats adorned with fishing lures, waving fish nets, and dancing around a large
gold statue of a dinky little fish. I
don't know if such actions are caused by something in the hot chocolate, or if
it is the combined effect of scarfing down too many deep fried fish, French
fried potatoes, and scones made with a secret fluidic ingredient and soaked in honey-butter. Either way it would be a sight of gluttony
and self-indulgence that would have shocked even Moses. I guess it was better that I only imagined the
scene without having to experience it in person.
And
one more thing. Do you remember the picture
of Scott, the fish addict, in the January 20th, 2013 edition of RCTOnline holding a supposedly
large fish he caught through a hole in the ice?
Well I happen to know that picture was the result of trick photography. If you take a picture using a wide enough angle
lens and stand really close to a subject who has arms extended to hold the fish
way out in front and close to the camera, the fish will appear unnaturally
large. I know because most pictures
taken of me are done that way. What else
would explain why my nose always appears bulbous instead of dainty and delicate
as it is in real life.
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