Boat Time could be construed as expensive hobby time. We are speeding across miles of Lake Bemidji in Minnesota looking for the sometimes elusive walleye. A friend of mine often says “fishing is always good and sometimes the catching is as well”. I relate. I just happen to be in the boat with Dad and a close friend. I might not remember if we caught fish but I am devouring and storing each minute spent in the boat. Fish are extra credit.
Several friends hopped into my boat and I in theirs last week at our annual COFA Fall Retreat (Fish Camp). Within minutes we caught fish every day. We sampled walleye chowder (the best), walleye pizza (pizza with walleye chunks on it), Walleye quesadillas (they were good) and the famous crispy fried walleye (always great). Boat time getting these fish…legendary (the stories will grow).
Plans are made, priorities sorted, nature watched in awe, friendships grown and relationships evaluated from family to God to new friends made at camp. World peace is taken care of in the boat. I’m a fisherman and may exaggerate on rare occasions. But life is good in the boat until ones muscles and sleep deprived cells (or bladder) begin to complain louder by the minute.
Our best fisherman (a high standing tourney fisherman) threw in a trophy for the best walleye, another a cherry handled hand tied walleye rod. We keep track of walleye inches and weigh a few as well.
Boys turn into young men, dads get to know sons, generations pass on family values and bear their souls in the quiet times between fish bites. As the sun dips lower each day talk deepens and we experience riches that money cannot buy. We caught an unusual amount of fish this year. We ate well and brought some home.
I hope to depreciate out my boat. May it be used and battered; may it log hundreds of hours on the water and become the richest boat around.