"Going Green" with the 3-R's. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle...

Now that the snow has hit Provo again, not much around here is green.  In an effort to minimize my impact on the environment I'm going green and combined both my blogs into one.  This will reduce the time required to partially neglect two blogs and redirected my half-hearted efforts into fulling neglecting just one.  For now I am just adding this post from last year.  Enjoy!  If you've already read it, please leave your comments this time around.  There will be more new Eco-friendly posts coming soon.

"Going Fishing:

On a beautiful fall day last year I went fishing with 'Uncle Rodney' Jackson at Scofield Reservoir.  We left early in the morning to get as much time fishing as possible.  Anyone that knows me well also knows by default that I'm not much of a morning person.  Anyone that knows Uncle Rodney probably knows he doesn't have a cell phone.  These two factors made for an interesting equation. As you would likely guess I woke up late, an hour to be exact, and couldn't get a hold of Rodney.

Fortunately our combined Boy Scout and Military training had instilled in us an uncanny ability to "Be Prepared."  We had agreed upon a randevu location the night before.  I raced there at borderline legal speed and in record time.  He was there, luckily, patiently waiting.  I parked and we were off.

Between our randevu, the gas station off I-15 in Spanish Fork and the reservoir, we had some driving to do.  Talk of Rodney's days in the service and growing up with Grandpa (Charles LaVard) Jackson filled the time nicely.

As luck would have it a 100 car+ train  was coming to a stopped right when and where we were about to cross the tracks, cutting us off from the only route to the reservoir for miles.  As we approached, the safety arms were coming down but the train was still approaching and slowing down on its way.  I asked Rodney for a penny for a physics experiment.  With only moments to spare I daringly set the penny on it's final resting place before complete restructure.  Did I mention that the train consisted of over 100 cars.  The penny sure felt it.  It was about as big as a Halloween bit sized candy bar before it lobbed off the track.  Once the trained got going we safely crossed and were on our way again.  Our delays were just about over... but not quite.

We got to the loading ramp, launched the boat in the water, convinced it to start with a little ether (a light volatile flammable liquid = Boy Scout fire water in a can).  Rodney is efficient with time and was getting the poles reading while idling away from the docks.  I was suddenly alarmed to something he said with a hint of disgust in his voice.  He had forgotten the worms in the bed of his vehicle.  Our luck had just about run out.

We went back to the docks, got the worms and set off again.  I have been deep sea trolling and had gone lake trolling once or twice before with Rodney, so the routine wasn't too foreign, but this day's surprises were anything from routine.

The sun came out and we began getting some bites.  Rodney not only steered the boat, but was also trolling a line.  It was the beginning of a nice day, but the forecast on Rodney's side of the boat was cloudy.  I wouldn't be surprises if Rodney had put a note on the end of his line warning the fish to steer clear or just take the worms, because the result was about the same.  Through out the day I was catching almost all the fish and Rodney was depositing patience into his bank account.

By the look in his eyes I could tell that he was determined not to go home empty handed.  He reached into his tackle box and pulled out his secret weapon, liquid bait.  I don't know what it consists of or if it's even legal.  The way I see it, a WWII veteran has risked his life to keep our country free so if he wants to use a little extra some'n some'n to ensure his dinner I don't mind and didn't bother asking.

Those of you who have gone fishing with 'avid' fisherman know exactly what I'm taking about.  Liquid bait is the substance that is kept in an old eye drop container, smuggled inside an empty medication bottle, wrapped in an old tube socks, stuffed in the bottom corner of the tackle box.  When he got it out I knew he meant business.  The ironic thing was it didn't seem to help.  I was still getting all the bites and catching the majority of the fish the remainder of the day.

Scofield Reservoir is stocked with Rainbow Trout.  I haven't been fishing enough to know the full potential size trout can grow to, but these were on average 14-16 inches.  I wasn't disappointed and was grateful that at least we weren't going to spend our day empty handed.  We had to enact the donation limit method that day.  

This is an emergency tactic used by males while hunting and gathering for sustenance for the betterment of the group. Practiced as a last resort, one person donates all the fish they are catching to the other so they don't max out their limit and both can keep on fishing.  Rodney was my cause for such a charitable case.

I don't think I am much of a fisherman, nor am I excited about staying inside the boat.  I would much rather swim with a pole in my teeth if it was possible, but that wasn't the case.  I like being active and need to sometimes force myself to stay awake.  August happened to be the end of a very busy extended school year for me.  Only fate would schedule this trip, as I was approaching finals week of my third consecutive semester of school.  My sleep consisted of a few hours each night and catch up on the weekends, and unfortunately two hours into our time in the boat.  That was the cause of our next predicament.  You can probably guess what ensued... my course of nocturnal slumber.  

Reservoirs and lakes aren't ever reaching.  They're round.  To troll, the engine must be running and the boat constantly turning to avoid collision with the shoreline.  While Rodney did his part of steering, my line was in the water and under the boat dangerously inching towards the roaring 50 hp outboard engine's propellers.  My daydreams were cut short by a startling wake up call.  Either I had hooked Nessie or my line got wrapped around the propellers.  Rodney reacted quickly by killing the engine.

He couldn't have been upset, but instead got to work resolving the issue at hand.  He soon proved to me one of the reasons we call his era the greatest generation.  Although approaching his early to mid 80s he had no problem unbolting and hoisting the entire engine into the boat.  Wow!  I didn't think I was going to see a world's strongest veteran's act in the middle of the lake that day.  Just another bonus to our already adventurous morning. 

After we finally got all the line untangled I didn't want him braking his back putting the motor back in place, plus I was now positioned to beat him to the work, so I did.  With engine bolted back in place and my hands covered in grease I wasn't about to doze off!  

The grease didn't seem to impair my success while baiting the line and unintentionally covering the worms in lubricant, but I  began second guessing whether Rodney was using the 'special' bait or actual eye drops.  He slowly became more and more agitated about being the recipient of our donation limit methods.  He must have been praying hard that I wouldn't fall asleep again, causing full destruction of the engine and stranding us, or for the change of catching a  few fish, because his prayers were answered.  He caught one of two fish and I was awake to witness it.  

Our catch limit was 16 for the day.  I caught about 11 and he caught 2.  We can say that his two were the biggest.  Wink wink.  Having a Jackson sense of humor he said,"we would have reached our limit if you didn't keep on letting all the fish go."  There is some legitimacy behind his statement.  Truth be told, out of the bites I got I was only actually reeled into the boat about a third.  We made out okay in the end.  

Our day was about spent.  We caught enough fish to make all the mishaps prior worth the heartburn.  I had to get going to work so we packed up and headed home.  This was a memorable day for me in the middle of a monotonous spring and summer of classes, work and homework.  The best part was just being out in nature with a great example and close relative.  I love Uncle Rodney and look forward to many more similar experiences.

Too-da-lou"

Okay if you made it this far I apologize for all the typos and jumbled sentences.  I don't recall what time it was when I first wrote this blog, but it must have been late.  I tried re-editing it but realize there is too much to fix... so I will keep all future blogs more concise and clear.  Thanks for reading.