"MAN PLANS .... AND GOD LAUGHS"

[swinginFish]

… or so my grandmother would say. Would that it wasn’t so true.

For “The Moyer”, I long planned. Planned to finally get my 6 yr-old son out on open sea for a real kayak fishing experience. Planned to let him see, if not experience, what its like to pull on – and be pulled by – something more than a trout or mackerel. Planned on all kinds of “gee dads” and “wee dads”, and “cool dads”. What I got was a son who, the night before, went to bed - and awoke the next morning - with …. a cold. Quick change of plans and son’s swapped for daughter number one, 11 yr-old Shira. Acting the “old salt”, she’s raring to go, bringing clothes for a week, but not what’s needed.

The saga unfolds w/out much problem. Pleasantly (and wisely) Shira stays clear and volunteers to help out the breakfast burrito crew while I independtly set up our fancy-shmancy “katamarak” (a prototype configuration of two linked Hobie Adventure hulls - Thanks, btw, to Hobie and Jim Czarnowski).

(Shira and me with the "Katamarak" - note the interesting position of Shira's right foot. Whassup w/ that?)

I follow my usual routine, i.e., sunscreen, water bottles, snack, checking all gear, electronics, hatches and, of course, the requisite visit to the head on the trek back to the beach after parking the truck. Sadly, Shira’s got a dad who forgot to give her Dramamine before we left, under-applied her sunscreen, and despite reminding her to hit the head before launch, didn’t insist upon it. So, as we peddle out and easily punch through the few waves between us and open water, we are full of hope, excitement and good cheer.


The bait boat is good to us, giving us plenty of dines to feed the seals, as we continue our journey to who-knows-where. About forty minutes into our trek, the first “Daddy, I don’t feel well” is uttered. I give her some ginger pills that are supposed to be fast-acting anti-puke things, as well as ½ tab of Dramamine. To her credit, she soldiers on, helping catch a few nice macks we immediately add to our lively batch of seal bait. She continues to feel ill, resting and whining much of the time, with me figuring I need to stay closer to shore than originally intended, fearing the only “dash” I’ll be making won’t be for “cash”, but for a substance that doesn’t constantly undulate beneath you.


While no fish bigger than a medium-sized mackerel found its way to our hooks, we did see a great display of porpoises which, naturally, brought Shira (for a few moments) out of her misery. Thereafter, her billowing bladder called for attention, with discretion requiring I peddle to a lesser-populated area. Once her lower portion was attended to, I foolishly thought things might settle down, but her stomach eventually rebelled and added more "chum" to the seas – the clear sign it was time to head to shore.


As person number one (me) peddles the two-person craft shoreward, person number two (Shira) shows response to the Dramamine and ... falls asleep. Just short of the beach, she awakens and we jointly make an uneventful landing. With terra-firma under her legs, she brightens and, for about three minutes, helps break down the craft. And why only three minutes? Because it was about that time she somehow found – and was stung by – a wayward bee that, rather than flowers, thought sand needed pollinating. So, while the seasickness brought her down, the bee sting took her out. I get the stinger out of her foot and in a moment of inspiration say in my most providential, fatherly voice: “Nine, ten, eleven – a date with your father you'll never forget”. To her credit, Shira’s insult and injury didn’t kill her spirit, and while I was prepared to head home, she insisted we go Kate Sessions for the post-tourney barbecue and raffle. Once there, she rallied, and even helped by pulling winning raffle tickets for - all but me.

(Matt Moyer and Shira Ellisman conspiring to keep her dad from having a winning raffle ticket.)

Thanks, Matt, the Moyer family, Jim, sponsors, and the rest of the crew that put his tournament on. I know its a lot of work, but really appreciate the opportunity to see friends and bring family to a great kayak fishing event. Hope it continues.

Oh yes, should note that, with the exception of one year, I’ve fished “The Moyer” since its inception. In that time, I’ve met a lot of people, enjoyed seeing good friends win or place in the tournament, and personally boast an unbroken, long-standing tradition of producing “bupkis mit kuduchas” on that special day. That said, it is also tradition that, if possible, I get out and fish LJ on Mondays. So, yesterday I went out alone, and while there were few tell-tales of larger fish out there, I did enjoy having my reel go off while chatting with a friend of many, many years, Vito and, despite its run for the kelp, fought and landed the pictured 24 lb unit (Thanks, Dan, for the photo).

While not seen in the photo, this fish was mauled during the fight by a pinniped, and came reluctantly to the gaff with a bite taken out of its side and back. Since I mentioned tradition, figure I will note again my long-standing and unabashed disdain for those LJ-based, free-swimming, bait-stealing, tax-man-calling, foul-breathed sea dogs. Granted there's likely no seal that will read this, but am glad to note that, at least this time, I pulled one from your mouth rather than the other way around.


Avery

[RK]

It looked like you were fighting godzilla yesterday. Nice fish

[Iceman]

Avery McWordsworth, the silver tongued story teller I'll take a yellowtail ANY day they decide to eat it!

[lamb]

Very cool Avery

[Handymansd]

Awesome times Avery, and a dad could not be prouder of the abuse his daughter took and kept on steaming ahead! I only hope my daughter will be so bold!

[GregAndrew]

Awesome story and what a trooper your girl is!!!