“I hate to break it to you, friend, but we’re not at Puget yet, so until then…no fishing,” he said, moving the end of the fishing hook away from his face. Ken’s face lit with a mischievous grin as he followed Paul inside.
“I just need to grab my gear, then we can head out,” Paul called over his shoulder before disappearing through the door leading to the basement and leaving Ken in the foyer.
When he made his way back up, he found his friend in the living room, standing by the mantel and staring up at the portrait above it. It was one of him, Sarah, Natalie, and their Labrador Retriever, Skipper. They were huddled together with bright smiles and merry eyes staring at the camera while Skipper’s tongue hung from his partially opened mouth.
Paul remembered the day the photo had been taken. They’d gone to the park for a family picnic. They’d had so much fun being together, bonding that Natalie felt the day couldn’t end without them getting a family photo. The sides of his mouth quirked upward in a smile as his eyes glazed over at the memory. That had been the month before she found out about the leukemia, but by then, it had been too late. His lips slowly collapsed, and the smile disappeared.
“Ready to go?” he asked, bringing Ken’s attention to his presence.
“Yeah. I’m ready,” he turned to say with a simple smile.
When Ken brushed past him and headed for the foyer, Paul looked back at the smiling face of his late wife before turning and heading for the door with his friend. After attaching the small craft to the back of the car, they settled into their seats.
“I picked this up for you,” Paul said, handing Ken the small square paper that was his permit to fish recreationally in the Washington State area.
“Thanks, man,” Ken responded, inspecting the card.
With that, they were off to do some fishing. After driving down Camano Drive for three miles, Paul turned north, and after another three minutes, he parked to the left of the mounted historical sign at Utsalady Point. He and Ken unhooked the motorized rowboat and carried it down the path toward the boat launch.
“Man, I’ll never get tired of a view like this,” Ken said, with his hands folded across his chest staring out at the open water.
Paul followed his gaze and took in the breathtaking panorama that included the Cascade Mountains, Whidbey Island, and Skagit Bay in the distance. A smile graced his lips and he nodded in agreement with his friend and partner. “You definitely can’t appreciate something like this living in the city,” he added.
“Yeah,” Ken returned.
“We can fish out in the open water, or maybe we can go to a great spot I know,” Paul suggested as the two got into the boat, and he began to row away from the dock into the blue-green waters. A few boats were already out on the water as people took advantage of the great weather. A few larger sailboats could also be seen out on the horizon.
“Open-water fishing sounds fun.” Ken made his choice.
“All right, open fishing it is, then,” Paul agreed, taking the boat farther out toward the brackish water of the estuary. Killing the motor, he turned to Ken. “Okay, so just a few tips. When you’ve baited your hook, you’ll throw the line out as far away from the boat as you can. As soon as you feel the line jerk and the bobber sinks, point your rod tip this way and pull back with a little pressure. When the lure is firmly settled in the fish’s mouth, it’ll start struggling to break free, but don’t reel it in just yet. Give it time to tire out, then reel it in,” he instructed.
“Aye aye, captain.” Ken saluted with a smirk. He did exactly as Paul instructed, baiting the hook and throwing out his line.
Paul did the same, and the two sat in silence, as if afraid that any sound or sudden movement would scare their prey while they waited for them to take the bait.
Paul felt the boat jostle with the sudden movement from beside him. He looked over at Ken, his brows raised in question.
“I got something,” Ken said excitedly.
“All right, remember what I told you?” Paul asked, scooting closer to him to monitor his progress. Ken nodded. Paul watched as the fishing rod slightly bent as whatever was at the end of the line struggled to break free.
“Lengthen the line. Reel it in but not too close,” Paul guided as Ken leaned forward, the spinning reel tightly clasped in his hand. He continued to do this for a good two minutes.
“Okay, looks like he’s given up. Take your time and reel him in.”
Ken took his time and reeled in his line until the silvery, scaly body of a sea bass broke the surface.
“Look at this beauty,” he marveled when he finally got the fish into the boat. It was at least two feet in length and bulky in width.
“That is a beauty,” Paul agreed with a nod as he looked from the triumphant grin on his friend’s face to his catch. “Great job, Ken,” he congratulated.
With his free hand, Ken pumped his fist in victory.
For the next couple of hours, the two men continued to throw out their lines, but Ken who was the amateur seemed to be having more luck in reeling in a number of big fishes while Paul sat caught in his own thoughts.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“Hmm? What was that?” he asked, looking away from staring unseeingly into the clear water to Ken.
