For the last several months Grandpa Jack and I have been trying to find a time we could go fishing with the kids. It was either bad weather, the wrong day, or the wrong time. Finally, we found an afternoon when I'd be home early (gotta love jury duty in Issaquah!) and the weather was darn near perfect.
Kids crammed into the car (and Amy heading to REI for Diva Night!) with Grandpa Jack opening gates for us meant we were at the lake's shore in no time. It still took a long, long time to get into the water. Blowing up boats (with help), assembling rods (with help), eating snacks (without being allowed to help)... it takes time.
As soon as we were on the water, though, the fish started biting. Grandpa Jack was bringing them in without an issue, but we were having some trouble. Four of us in the raft meant I wasn't allowed to row or hold the rod.
It might have been for the bet, though. When we finally did bring in a fish Henry wasn't terribly pleased by the idea. When one flopped around inside the boat just about everyone was freaking out. It wasn't until Grandpa Jack paddled over to show off a brook trout that the kids were ok with it.
The highlight was like this: Henry and I were paddling. Lilly was holding the rod. Fish on! Hold the rod up! Reel! Reel! (Lilly not reeling.) REEL! Paddle! Fast! FAST! Keep the line taut! Clara helps Lilly reel. We've gone around the lake twice. The fly line disappears into the guides and it's time to grab the fish. Clara swings it around to me and the fish was well and truly caught.
We gave up shortly after because it was getting dark and Arby's was calling. Henry declared we caught seven fish and that's probably pretty accurate. Clara said Grandpa Jack caught a million and that's not far off. Lilly wanted us to catch a 100 foot long fish, but that might have to wait until next year.