I woke to my dad shaking me awake well before sunup. The house was quiet and my dad and myself trudged outside groggy eyed to our Volvo with a single fishing pole and small plastic tackle box. We trundled up to the coast where we parked our car next to a single dimming streetlight, and walked across the gravel parking area towards the sea. The ocean was cool, calm, and poised as if it were to engage in an epic battle with a six year old in search of his first fish. "It was the deep breath before the plunge" in Lord of the Rings jargon, but as I baited the small hook with minnows, the vast sea seemed to raise her fists ready for the fight. The sky slowly turned from its deep evening purple to a pale morning pink and orange. As the golden sun crested the horizon, a light wind rippled across the sea, splashing waves across the rocks and sea salt into the crisp air. The sea was ready for our first fight.
My first cast was perfect. It landed,
bobber and all, just behind a small collection of rocks, just out of the current, yet where the Snapper Blues waited like circling sharks to feed. The
bobber floated up and down, swaying with the current, a flash of brightest orange surrounded by masses of blues grays. And then it was gone with a gigantic tug and a graceful bend in my fishing pole. I gave a yell of surprise and delight, and pulled myself out of my sea entrancement and grasped at the pole with sweaty hands. With another jerk, the pole slipped out of my fingers like a bar of soap and disappeared over the rocky ledge toward the foamy surface. As the rod bounced down the rocks, I dropped to my knees and with a lunge, swiped in its direction in search of the plastic handle, but came up short, my small fingers closing on thin air. With a small splash, the rod disappeared beneath the surface.
I sat down, and felt hot tears of disappointment fill my eyes. I had lost my fishing pole within the first ten minutes of battle against the daunting sea. As the sun arched its way high above us the ocean, I sat down defeated upon the salty rocks, my face now shinning with sweat, sea spray, and tears. The sea splashed back and forth below me, playful, mocking, and victorious. I had lost the first fight.
