Nicole Scharn

           “Have patience Nicole, they’ll bite,” my dad said reassuringly, but sadly, I had lost all hope.

            The cloudless blue sky accompanied by the bright, radiant sun surrounded us in our tiny, worn-down fishing boat. This boat is so tiny that it could easily be taken by the calm waves of the wind or any other passerby. There was not one instance when our dark green and tan boat lay still in the waters of the West Okoboji Lake.

            “We’ve been here for an hour, dad, I’m bored,” I said, sprawled on the floor of our tan carpeted boat. I had given up on fishing as my rod lay unaccompanied at the back of the boat still bobbing up and down with every wave. My mind wandered as I lay in my bathing suit, convinced this was no longer a fishing trip but a tanning trip.

            My dad and I had been planning this for weeks. Three days, just he and I, out in the open water, soaking up the sun, catching fish-what could be better? Baseball and softball had consumed our summer. It was already mid-July and I barely had any quality time with my father. Who knew how much time coaching baseball and playing softball could take? Needless to say, I was ecstatic for this trip. Then, as I lay on the scratchy carpet of the boat, I wondered how I would get through three days of catching absolutely nothing but the sun’s rays.

            Tick… tock…tick… tock… I felt like I was watching my grandparent’s grandfather clock, swaying back and forth and back again. The time ran on as I remained laying on the boat’s floor, staring up at the blank, blue sky. My dad still sat on the same chair, staring at the same two poles with pure concentration.

            Have patience, have patience; there is no need to worry. Have patience, have patience… I silently sang the lullaby in my head to give myself something to do. I pulled out my phone, realizing that it was five o’clock. We had been out here for five hours. Five hours of no fish. We hadn’t even gotten one single bite.

            “Let’s call it a day, and get back at it tomorrow,” my dad said with a smile on his face while he reeled in his line.

            We began cleaning up the boat- throwing pop cans and candy wrappers in our trash can. We made sure everything was put away before we continued on our trek back to the dock. We lifted the anchor and started the motor, just then the wind started to pick up, causing the waves to crash against the side of the boat, splashing my dad and I with water. It was nearly impossible to avoid the wind and the waves. We were both going to get drenched no matter what we did. There was simply no way out.

            As the boat started to crawl forward, my dad looked over at me with a half smile on his face, mostly caused by the constant splash of water, “shall we?”

            “Let’s go,” I responded warily. Just as the words came out of my mouth, I instantly regretted them. My dad turned to look ahead and slammed the throttle down jolting the boat forward, making it come alive once again. Here we go, I thought to myself, as I closed my eyes and held on tighter than ever. 

            Eventually we slowed the boat down to go under the various bridges and through the numerous canals. Through all of the wind and waves, we had finally reached the dock. We made it. “Tomorrow will be better,” I reassured myself, as I walked back to the truck to go home.

            The next day was brighter than the last, and hotter than the last. The blistering heat made you sweat the moment you walked out of the door. It was 8 am, and my dad and I were rested and ready to go for another day on the lake.

             We put our boat in at Pioneer. This is a canal which means the water is calmer, and the waves lighter. Today was a new day, I thought to myself, staring out at the sun-glistened water.

            “Let’s go catch some fish,” my dad said eagerly, as we began our search for the perfect spot. He seemed to have read my mind.

            We explored the water with our depth finder, trying to find a spot scattered with numerous fish of all sizes, mostly big. Back and forth the boat seemed to travel, making sure to cover every inch of the lake. I was staring at the blank screen of the depth finder, when suddenly, black blobs filled the screen. We had found the jackpot.

            “Throw out the anchor,” my dad yelled with excitement, but I was already scrambling to the front of the boat to grab our anchor as fast as humanly possible.

            We threw out our lines as soon as our worms were on the hook. It seemed as though I couldn’t work fast enough. I waited. I stared at my pole. I was giddy. I was ready to finally catch my first fish of the year. After a few minutes, I looked at my dad puzzled.

            “Dad, there are so many fish on the screen, why aren’t we catching anything?”

            “Have patience,” my dad said soothingly.

            I sat there wondering, how did he do it? How was he so…so…patient? I sat there disappointed that we had not hit the jackpot and that we had not caught any fish, as my dad sat right next to me perfectly content.

            Right then was when the swarm hit. My pole began to bob up and down, but this wasn’t the waves. No, this was more. This was a bite. I stared at my line, waiting for the right moment to hook the fish. The next thing I know, I’m reeling in a huge Blue Gill. As the fish is dangling above the water, I stare at it with admiration, taking in the feeling of pure happiness. This is what I had been waiting for, and it was worth it. The fish flapped continuously on the line as I swung the pole over to my dad to take the fish off for me. My dad gave me the look that said “really?” And I responded with a grin.

            Like my dad always says, “sometimes good things come to those who wait.”