Creative Writing: Unexpected Horizons
Creative Writing: Unexpected Horizons
Wow! I love going deep sea fishing on our boat. I was excited when my dad had asked me if I wanted to go this weekend. We departed that Saturday morning after almost a week of sheer anticipation, our destination, Port
Canaveral, home of of some of the best fishing on the east coast of Florida.
The sea is a very dangerous place when riled by a storm, even a mild one, so we always made sure the day would be at least close to perfect before we ventured out into the blue darkness of the open sea. My dad and I had seen the destruction careless boaters could get themselves into, and we did our best to avoid it. That Saturday, though, looked as if it were a perfect offshore fishing day. The sky was clear as glass, with a couple straggling cirrus clouds, but nothing worth paying attention to, and above that, the fish were supposedly hitting offshore. All-in-all, the long awaited perfect fishing day had come, at least in our minds it had.
In the meantime, my dad backed the boat into the salty murky water as I got the boat ready for our day long journey. I set the navigation system to a favorite fishing spot of ours which was about twenty-five miles out called the
Pelican Flats. We headed out on the gently, quiet, rolling blue monster's back as our twenty-two foot vessel handled the one to two foot ocean swells with sheer ease. Finally, after an hour long haul, and fifteen fishing minutes later, we ran into our first sign of action.
"Fish on starboard!!" screamed my younger brother. "Fish on stern, grab 'em!", bellowed by dad from the steering wheel.
Instinctly, my brother and I had quickly grabbed the poles as the line screamed off and the tips bent almost to the water. Soon enough, both of us had fish on, very large fish from the feel. About half an hour of sweat and a good workout, we finally got the fish to give up their fight for life. That was the first time we had ever encountered a double hook-up, which
Wow! I love going deep sea fishing on our boat. I was excited when my dad had asked me if I wanted to go this weekend. We departed that Saturday morning after almost a week of sheer anticipation, our destination, Port
Canaveral, home of of some of the best fishing on the east coast of Florida.
The sea is a very dangerous place when riled by a storm, even a mild one, so we always made sure the day would be at least close to perfect before we ventured out into the blue darkness of the open sea. My dad and I had seen the destruction careless boaters could get themselves into, and we did our best to avoid it. That Saturday, though, looked as if it were a perfect offshore fishing day. The sky was clear as glass, with a couple straggling cirrus clouds, but nothing worth paying attention to, and above that, the fish were supposedly hitting offshore. All-in-all, the long awaited perfect fishing day had come, at least in our minds it had.
In the meantime, my dad backed the boat into the salty murky water as I got the boat ready for our day long journey. I set the navigation system to a favorite fishing spot of ours which was about twenty-five miles out called the
Pelican Flats. We headed out on the gently, quiet, rolling blue monster's back as our twenty-two foot vessel handled the one to two foot ocean swells with sheer ease. Finally, after an hour long haul, and fifteen fishing minutes later, we ran into our first sign of action.
"Fish on starboard!!" screamed my younger brother. "Fish on stern, grab 'em!", bellowed by dad from the steering wheel.
Instinctly, my brother and I had quickly grabbed the poles as the line screamed off and the tips bent almost to the water. Soon enough, both of us had fish on, very large fish from the feel. About half an hour of sweat and a good workout, we finally got the fish to give up their fight for life. That was the first time we had ever encountered a double hook-up, which