We piled, soaking, into our seats. "Aren"t we going fishing?" they asked in almost perfect unison. Two small chins started to tremble.
"Tell you what," I said. "Let"s go for a ride and see if this lets up." For the next two hours, we cruised through the downpour and a maze of gravel U.S. Forest Service roads, taking careful aim at every puddle. As the boys discussed the morning"s events and needled each other about misplaced tackle and multilegged beasts, their moods lightened considerably. The rain finally stopped, but I knew the creek would be too high and muddy for fishing.
Just as I was about to point our car back toward the highway and break the news, I saw a sign: "Stocked Pond - Rainbow Trout by the Pound." I pulled in. For the avid fisherman, the "stocked pond" isn"t exactly sporting. The pond was about the size of your average backyard pool, and with all of the rippling, flashing and finning, it looked like you could walk straight across it on the backs of all those trout without getting wet. We grabbed our gear and baited up. It took less than ten minutes for each of the boys to hook and land a monster rainbow.
While one brother (with a little help) wrestled his prize into the net, the other slipped and slid on the wet bank, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Reel him faster! Don"t let go! You got him!"
The pond"s owner weighed and cleaned the trout, then put the pink slabs on ice for us. We loaded up and headed for home. By the time we reached the highway, the twins were asleep, each with an arm draped across the cooler that rested between them.
Not the day I"d planned, but I couldn"t have scripted a better ending. A few small adventures, a slight case of poison ivy (mine) and two trophy-sized rainbow trout - much larger than anything I"d ever caught in a stream. The bill was a whopper too, about five times what we"d pay for trout at the market. Best money I ever spent. (：夏根建)
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