Friday, 6 June 2001. Pond at Skydive Chicago. My packer friend Beau and I were on the way to a bonfire, and I told her I'd catch up, figuring I'd wet a line and maybe catch something while we were bullshitting at the fire. The line hit the water and the bobber instantly went under. Bait was a rancid old chunk of hot dog. This looks like a pregnant female. Maybe 6 lbs? Quite possibly the one I caught two weekends in a row, I shit you not, last July (I had to leave the hook in it the first time, and it was still there the second time I caught it). Some fish just never learn. I gotta remember to bring my tagging gear along.
If I look wiped out there, it's cuz I wuz! This was after an appx. five-hour canoe trip with Beau, with a headwind and way too much sun. I suffered in muscles I'd forgotten existed. Next day was worse; thought I'd have to see a doctor or even hospital cuz of the heat. It sucked but ice and fluid kinda brought me back. Still, I'd recommend the trip to everyone in less severe conditions. Awesome.