On The Sly

I will admit that I have never been the fisherman nor the most sea-worthy guy in the Gagnon family. Those qualities belong to my brother Goose, who is a licensed Adirondack Fishing Guide. I've been out on the water with my brother a few times, but I mostly enjoyed the kool-aid instead of luring in fish.

And once I went on an ill-fated deep-sea fishing trip to Maine with a group of teachers, but that's a story for another blog.

On this particular day last week I was anxious to get out on the lake with Mickey and enjoy the pleasures of Lake Champlain. When my videographer Mark arrived, along with Jacqueline, my technical advisor, it was showtime! We taped my enthusiastic opening, promising information and action for the following hour. Little did I know!

As Mickey drove his boat miles from shore we talked about the health of Lake Champlain, the activities that Mickey is involved with, and we promised our viewers an interesting show. While we bucked the waves Mark somehow kept the camcorder under control.

Shortly we were near Crab Island, our site for fishing. Jacqueline kept us on course so we didn't crash into any buildings or vehicles that might be out in the middle of the lake. Mark rolled the camera as I asked Mickey about the equipment he was using. Something about down-riggers and lures. I tried listening carefully, but I was distracted by a strange feeling in my stomach. I felt the boat rocking and too often the boat was swaying one way while my stomach swayed the other.

This was a feeling I'd felt before. I've been through kidney stones and football concussions, but nothing equals the feeling of being seasick. I cautioned Mickey and he was helpful, handing me a bucket. I took a seat while Mickey prepared for our fun day on Lake Champlain.

Within minutes I was a goner, making the most of my bucket, while Jacqueline drove and Mark videotaped. Then I heard the magic words: "Fish on!" I grabbed the microphone and did play-by-play while Mickey toyed with this large trout he had hooked. It was a big one, but my stomach didn't care!

As the Lake Champlain Angler hauled in a fifteen-inch trout, I was reaching again for the bucket. The slimy fish seemed to give me a smile. I think he recogized Mickey as a "catch-and-release" angler, and I think he recognized the color of my face, which, by all reports, was now turning green.

I think Mickey, Mark and Jacqueline were trying not to laugh. They were fine, but I was green. Reports say there hasn't been a sight like this since Champ was spotted years ago in Port Henry. My head was rolling like I had a neck made out of a Slinky.

I'd had enough! I begged to be brought ashore. Enough of this "Fox on the Run." This episode will have be named, "Fox Has No Fun!" I think for now my fishing days are over. I don't even want to see a swimming pool.

The Lake Champlain Angler probably could have spent eight hours in that rocking boat and downed a dozen doughnuts to boot. And Mark and Jacqueline, my loyal employees, showed their moxie as sea-faring North Country residents.

But I thought I'd never make it to shore. I thought I'd be a customer over at Brown's Funeral Home by noontime. The closest I'll get to water for the next few months is watching an episode of "Gilligan's Island."