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Tilting at Green Trout


Reef Runner

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It was a quiet and sunny weekend, at a small lake which name I do not want to remember, just South of Parry Sound. Racing up the 400/169 were Quixote and Sancho, on a half tank of fuel and dueling with better equiped and cleaner motored steads. They arrived early, enclosed in a dust bowl from the roads travelled, and unloaded their belongings. Quixote is one of those gentlemen who keeps a rod in the rod-rack, an ancient net, a skinny old canoe and a fast trolling motor. "Sancho, your Canadian Tire special rod would definately bend over in obedience to but a half-pound bass," quiped Quixote, "However, your line is as strong as your determination to join me in this expedition, therefore, let us get our vessel prepared. Sancho..."

 

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"Poor trusted advisor, tired by the tilting spruce trees that blanket the landscape in a fine polinated mist. Very well, I shall prepare the vessel myself."

 

Quixote winds down the rocky staircase to the waters edge:

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"You arrogant beast! Because your size, that of a human fist, thou should beleive you can block my entry to the skiff...draw your weapon vermin!" As Quixote moved toward the tremendous aracna, his shadow blocks the sun with which the spider was warming itself causing it to retreat into its crevasses of its rock home. "HA; a gentle giant...it was best he recognized the might of my cause. Sancho! Bring me my rod!" decalred Quixote, only to be answered by a chorus of snores.

 

Nonetheless and undetered, Quixote arms his rod with a 5 inch sinking worm and lazily throws it out for the taking. "The abysmal dwellers of this pond surely will tangle with this offering," figures Quixote as he watches the bait slowly fall to the outter weed edge. Just as the worm is out of view, a nibble, Quixote heaves back with all his might; "Why must you run for the thick reed? Not to worry, my 20# power pro is up the task before me."

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Sancho is awaken by the sound of flapping fish and, motivated, finishes preparing the boat. Once the bass is reunited with it's underwater home, the two saddle up and ride for a deeper bay.

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Out in the bay, hovering close to its finely vegetated edges, many small largemouth are taken by sinking worms.

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"We have seen numbers, Sancho, but we have yet to visit the larger set."

 

"Had you enough Quixote? My stomach is empty and my neck burnt from the scorching sun," reasons Sancho.

 

"Your determination is fading with your hunger is it? Very well, we shall return and dine while I continue my exploits from shore." And exploit he shall...

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Not much else was heard from the galant pair; although now I sit in an office building enclosed in the concreate jungle, my thoughts are with Quixote and Sancho knowing they are in pursuit of the larger set sought....

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Yup...driving all that way to sit in the hot sun only to catch small bass WILL make you kinda crazy like that :rolleyes: Just kidding...sounds like you had a good time...small guys notwithstanding :lol: Thanks for sharing!

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