Winter Sports ~ Friend, or Foe
With the end of another winter in Ontario
I'm no longer able to snowmobile.
Mr Happy and I talked about what other winter
We discussed ice fishing.
Stumbling down the snowbanks to the ice fishing hut
I could hear everyone else outside the hut, sitting in
There was a mighty tug on my line.
My feet wouldn't move. I could hear much laughter
" I GOT ONE! MY FEET ARE STUCK! "
The face just smiled.
" I SAID I GOT ONE! A HUGE ONE!"
The hut door closed and faces peered at me from under
"Reel it in! Reel it in!"
I'm pulling, it's pulling back, even harder than I'm pulling
I peek under the edge only to see the other end of my
Realizing I'd been duped, I drop the line, lie down on the
Mr Happy suggests skiiing.
I am perhaps not the most "graceful" woman in the
So I picture myself, on the top of a mountain, peering
Gripping the poles in my hands.
*Swish swish swish*
Turning my body this way and that, conquering
Watching for one brief moment, my poles dig into
My mind reels. I know that not only am I going to break
Ok I think skiing is out.
I think I'll just move to Florida.
I think I can safely assume that winter sports are
over.
My back has told me flat out
"Dave, babe... your time is over"
Which is sad because I used to have such
fun bouncing around on those snowmobiles,
freezing my ass off in -40C weather, going back
to a chalet for hot chocolate and alot of Bailey's.
activities I could start perhaps next season.
Well. My previous experiences with ice fishing
leaves me with little desire to do it again.
When I was taken ice fishing, the first thing I
was told was we sit in the chalet, insulate ourselves
with snowsuits and a great quantity of Southern Comfort.
So of course, trying to fit in, I did so.
and going inside, I was placed sitting on a tiny piece
of carpet, my feet outside the bottom of the hut, one on
each side of the corner beam (in case I got a big fish and
needed leverage), pole in hand. I was told to wait.
lawnchairs, talking and laughing, while I, alone in the hut,
watching the fishing line, insulated myself a little more
every few minutes from the flask given to me and occasionally
lifted the line to dip it again.
Excited and enthusiastic, I heave on it.
It was heavy, it must have been huge, at least
25 lbs, oh yes! I started shouting for help.
I could hear them out there, engaged in their
conversation, so I shouted louder and moved to
pull my feet in to drag this mighty fish from the
lake depths.
gathering around the outside of the hut.
I yanked my feet again while my hands held tightly
to the makeshift fishing equipment, the huge fish
struggling for freedom beneath the ice. I shouted again
and a face poked in at me.
the sides of the hut.
IT! My feet are still stuck. It was then, that I looked at the
faces peering at me, then over to where my feet are.
They had tied my boot laces together.
I inched closer to the edge, the fishing rod jerking hard
in my hands, I refused to lose this catch, I'd show those
jerks that even if they tied my boots together, I'm still
an expert fisherwoman!
fishing line, rigged by them, pulled up and outside another
hole cut in the ice and being yanked by THEM.
ice and drain my flask.
No more ice fishing for this Indian.
Hmmmmmmmm.
Dave. On skiis.
Interesting concept.
world. My co-ordination tends to be just a little bit
off at times.
down at the other skiiers, the view spectacular, the
fresh air filling my lungs as I pull the goggles down over
my eyes.
The wind whistles through my hair.
The breath catches in my throat as I glide.
each bump, each rise of snow...
Ah the exhileration of moving those first two feet from
the lift, to where I actually have to begin the descent.
the snow and I push myself off, instantly realizing that
I don't know how to ski.
bones, lose blood and damage trees... but I am going to
take out every skiier ahead of me.
At least I'll finally get to go to Disney.
As I said before, imagine the Chronicles if I do.
Take me home!
Main Dave's Chronicles