Fishing Shan's Kamloops Lake Trout By Shantell Powell. When I was in grade six, my Dad used to take my Mom, my kid sister, and me out fishing with him every weekend. We lived in Savona, British Columbia, and the area was rife with little lakes full of Kamloops lake trout. Every weekend would consist of my Dad trolling for these elusive fish while my Mom grudgingly paddled the canoe back and forth. My sister and I would occasionally cast a line out, but we never caught anything. One day, we went fishing at Six Mile Lake, a popular fisherman and trout hangout. We had been fishing for hours, and my Mom was starting to complain from all the laps she was paddling. Poor Mom. The drag must have been something awful--my Dad's favourite trolling lure was something auspiciously titled "The Ford Fender." So, after changing lures a few hundred dozen times, my Dad figured he'd have a go of it from the shore. By this time, my sister and I were horrifically bored. So far, none of us had gotten so much as a bite, let alone actually reeling in a fish. We spread out along the shore. My Mom laid back in the shade of a tree to catch some well-deserved Zs; my sister went looking for some flowers to pick; my Dad went looking for the perfect place to cast from; I started walking aimlessly around the lake. A slight movement in the rushes caught my eye. What was it? I walked down to the water, took off my shoes, and waded in to get a better look. There was a positively humungous lake trout, caught in the reeds so that she couldn't get turned around. I scooped her up in my arms, tossed her on shore, and screamed, "I got one! I got one!" My Dad was flabbergasted. The look on his face was priceless. The fish was about three feet long, and ended up being the biggest catch of the day. When we walked back to the truck, my Dad carried the fish past the hordes of impressed fisherment. When everyone came up to admire the fish, they asked him what kind of lure he used. Before he could answer, I said, "My hands!" |
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