Sunday morning, I went on an early fishing trip (early being 5AM – fun!) with Joe and my dad on my dad’s boat.
My dad has been fishing since he was in utero, so he goes fishing A LOT. Joe loves to fish as well so they go together often. I enjoy fishing in small doses, but I’m not as
insane in love with fishing as they are, so I had never gotten up at the crack of dawn wait – 6:30AM is the crack of dawn around these parts in June… so that makes 5AM… the back of the knee? Okay - I have never gotten up at the back of the knee of dawn to go fishing before.
I decided it was time. They wanted me to go. My mom offered to keep the girls overnight so we didn’t have to wake them up
early at the ankles of dawn. Most importantly, my dad promised me that we could stop at a gas station on the way so I could get some of those little chocolate donuts that are kind of plastic-y but you can’t stop eating them.
We get to the lake, go out in the boat, and start fishing. I’m having fun. My dad is having fun, Joe is having fun.
Now, I must warn you… if you have a weak stomach, you may want to skip this next part and go straight to the pictures. Except skip the first picture.
We have been there 20 minutes. Joe catches a fish. It’s a fairly big bass. He pulls it up on the boat. It flops around. As he reaches for it, it spits the bait out, causing the pole to fall back and bounce, or something (it happened so fast), and the crank bait he had been using swung up at his face really hard. It hit right on his nose, and one of the two treble hooks went straight into the skin in the middle of his nose (the part where witch doctors put a bone through).
It was lodged in there really good. Treble hooks look like this:
Joe doesn’t seem to think it’s a big deal. In fact, as my dad and I are freaking out, Joe picks the fish up, with the bait hanging out of his nose, and says, “Is it a keeper?”
He sits down and tries to get the hook out. He says it doesn’t hurt. I see blood but not a lot. Being the blogger that I am, I took a picture.
After about 3 minutes of him pulling on the hook and my dad and I looking the other way trying not to throw up, he asks for the needle-nosed pliers. He then started trying to pull the hook out with them.
I don’t know about you, but if a hook goes in my nose, I am not about to touch it myself, and I don’t know if I would let anyone else touch it either. I’m shivering and cringing here just typing this out.
My dad started to pack up the poles. He and I were both sure we were headed to the emergency room. Joe wasn’t convinced. He continued to try to dislodge the hook.
After a few more minutes of us wondering how much longer he was going to try this, I heard a loud pop sound – my dad later described it as what it would sound like if you flicked a ripe watermelon- and Joe said, “It’s out!”
Besides a little soreness, and a drop of blood, he was fine.
My dad said that while he was trying to decide whether we should leave, he said to himself, “If anyone can pull a treble hook out of their nose, it’s Joe.” It’s true… he’s tougher than concrete. I always joke with him that he is made of a different material than everyone else.
After that excitement, we were SUPER careful with our hooks and had a great time. I caught 4, Joe caught 4, and my dad caught 5.
I normally wouldn’t post a picture of me looking like a 14-year-old girl scout, but the other 2 pictures of me were worse. This is the biggest fish I caught. We saw a Great Blue Herron on the bank with a big fish in it’s mouth. I took a picture of it flying across the lake. We loved these little trees by the bank. Anyone know what this is called? My dad’s biggest fish. Fun fact: He has had that hat since I was 3. I wish I had inherited his gift of making stuff last FOREVER.
Joe nose how to fish.
And that was the end of our trip.