“Dad check out this lure!” I shouted as I ran towards a big, glittery spoon in the isle of Gander Mountain. The large golden spoon sat on the shelf waiting for a kid like me to come along and fall in love with it. This particular spoon was meant for pike fishing, a bait that twirled around in the water, flashing and catching the attention of a pike.
I was riding my horse on our Ranch It was a beautiful day Birds were chirping Cows were mooing and the Nice cool breeze was blowing and everything was fine and My Dad and I were going to check the cows and check their waters and on the way I was riding and a Cotton Tail rabbit ran out of a bush and my horse got spooked and he started bucking and he bucked me off and I got right back on and started riding again. And when I got to where the cows were we have 50 and I only counted 45 and so I knew some were missing so I was Approaching the creek to see if they were down in the creek to see if they were down there and when I got down there I heard them bawling and so I rode up out of the creek and went to a different one we call Sourdough Creek
When I made a lucky catch, I learned what carelessness could cost you. I was around seven years old at the time, and I played baseball for Lakeview Playground. It was my first year of playing hardball, and like everyone else, I had no knowledge of what was happening. Our team name was the “Grey Sharks,” only because our jerseys were
A Younger Look on Life My entire life has revolved being on the water and spending time with my dad and grandfather fishing, boating, or just enjoying the days outside. Very similar to how White describes it in his essay “Once More to the Lake”. White expresses his views as looking back on life talking about what he has been through and his experiences at the lake. Throughout the essay White tries to live out his life as an older man through the actions of his son.
“Are you guys ready to go?” my dad says as we rush out the door. It’s our last day out and we are ready to make the best of it. “We’re right behind you dad,” I say as we walk to the cars.
My family and I were on our way to Mille Lacs Lake, a very great walleye fishery. It was going to be perfect, a small breeze 70 and sunny a perfect day for fishing. Little did we know it was going to be rough. Beep, Beep, Beep, it was seven o'clock AM it was time to get up for fishing.
At first, I followed the edge of our property line until I came to a little trail in the weeds that looked like it been made by a deer or another good-sized animal. It descended gently down the escarpment at first, but then I had to quicken my step as it became a little steeper, eventually taking me right down to the Genesee River. The river itself wasn’t as wide and as deep as I thought it would have been, and in spots it looked like you could cross without needing the aid of a bridge, the water perhaps coming up as high as my waist. But that was most likely because it was August and the heat wave we’d been experiencing had the area gripped in a drought. I had followed the river’s rocky shoreline for a little ways while listening
It was a beautiful day. The breeze was from the west and I was heading up north to go fishing. No, I wasn’t going to go by myself. In fact, I was going with a friend name Luke Jones. We arrived at about noon hoping we would fish till dark.
Killer Games may be fun, but not this one. We had owned our lake house for several years, but no one knew someone who came along with us was capable of murder; someone was capable of killing with little thought, killing people who they had once loved. That raised a burning question, however, did this person ever love us? It was just a stupid little game, or so everyone thought.
The drive was almost unbearable, but the thought of spending the week in the snow with family kept me going. It was only a four hour drive, but at 9 years old, it felt like an eternity. The scenery slowly changed from flat land, to rolling hills. The hills were covered in yellow dying grass, but they were still beautiful. Then we started to make the climb.
A Montana Fishing Trip As we walked down to the river, the birds were making a whistling noise, and it was quite annoying because the birds were so loud Will and I could barely hear each other. When we were walking down to the river on a rock that was on the path was a famous quote from Muhammad Ali and it was about the river and it said “Rivers, Ponds, Lakes, and Streams - they all have different names, but they all contain water. Just as religions do - they all contain truths.”
Lake Ontario is the smallest of the five Great Lakes of North America. Situated between the Canadian province of Ontario and the American state of New York, it is the most eastern of the Great Lakes. Lake Ontario has a surface area of 19,009 km2. It is approximately 311 km long from East to West, and 85 km wide from North to South. Lake Ontario has a volume of 1,639 km3, and an average depth of 86 meters.
Peoples’ attention admires the natural beauty sight to get peace, serenity, pacification and relax in their life. Hawks bay beach expresses the naturally beautiful seascape i.e. light brown mountains with minor, smooth height; sea with huge tides and light flourishing blue color; and the glaring sun shine with several clouds in the sky. When I reached there, I can feel the freshness of the air as the fresh fragrance from flower. The current of air blew in such a way that this eased up me newness in my life. The weather is marvelous for swimming in the sea but subversive if i halt in open-air.
It was a nice, warm summer day about nine years ago when my Mom’s family decided to come up for a vacation, which we did often back then. Whether it was going camping, or going to visit them or vice versa, it was always a pleasure hanging out with them whenever we got the chance to. We were on our way to go raft the Yellowstone River in the stunning Paradise Valley, Montana. The group consisted of myself, Mom, Dad, my older brother Justin and younger brother Joe, my Uncle Richard, three cousins Michael, Trisha, and Mariah, and two dogs, Nikki and Buddy. We had just arrived to the place where we were going to rent our equipment from, Yellowstone Whitewater rafting and all of us were filled with excitement and nerves at the same time because,
Smooth, oval rocks lined the bank of the secretive lake. Discarded and neglected; overlaid with spongy moss and choked by fallen, decaying leaves from the unclothed and withering trees above. As the lake swelled around the ashen boulders, icy, black water lifelessly lapped against the long, thin beams of wood holding up a rickety pier. The structure was covered in splinters and ragged, iron nails, and as it reached out into the centre of the sombre lake, it became more and more distant. Half-cut beams lined the sides of the pier, as nettle patches hissed from the shore when the water drew too near.
