Thursday, August 16, 2012
About 30 years ago when I was a young lad I went on an ice fishing trip with Uncle Frank, Uncle Charl, Dad, Lloyd and Dougie to split-rock in Witless Bay. After cutting all the holes, the elders went to make a fire while I stayed on the pond to tend to the lines. Well the trout were numerous and I was running around like a headless chicken trying to keep up with it; there was a trout in every hole. The kin were enjoying a drink or beer, not knowing I was hauling trout up everywhere. Eventually everyone caught some and it was a great day but after walking 5 miles in, 5 miles out and doing 10 miles around the pond pulling up trout, my feet were killing me. When I got home my 2 big toenails came off in my socks, lovely. I had to walk on my heels for a week and warn everyone "don't step on me toes" but it was so worth it. Watch your bobber Uncle Frank.
