Fishing with Clifford

In the later days of my elementary career, I had become friends with Clifford Tenney who lived on Chestnut Street above Church Street (I think it was Church).  He had an older sister, who as I recall, was quite attractive.  Which probably explains why she was also a cheerleader.  I don't mean to stereo type, but when I was growing up, those stereo types existed.   Clifford was a really nice guy, though a bit of a dolt - but a dolt in a nice way.  Cliff and I had been talking about fishing.  Fishing is an activity that all boys should participate in.  I don't mean to be sexist here, I think it is a good thing for girls to do too, but growing up fishing was not an option for me.  My dad was not a fisherman.  Cliff decided in the spring that I should have the chance to go fishing.  As Cliff liked to fish, he had a plethora of fishing gear.  We made our plans to go fishing down the river.  Yes you read it right, and I did not leave a word out.  People in Philadelphia gone down the shore, I went down the river.

The day we picked to have our fishing adventure was early in June, a beautiful day.  We had a sunny sky and warm temperatures.  The river, so you know, was the  Schuylkill River.  The river was the place the older kids in Spring City went to smoke. Ah even I went there to smoke, in fact I think Cliff and I would go down there to smoke.  But I digress (as usual)  So we went to "Bare Ass Beach."  Yes that was the name of the beach that was right next to where the Creek and the Canal met and flowed into the river.  To get there, you had to travel under the train trestle.  When we arrived at BAB, we baited our hooks, and cast our lines into the river.  Cliff was great at helping me and teaching me what to do.  We sat on the beach, which was really mud, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited.  Nothing, not even a nibble.  Cliff created a little holder thing for his rod, and then walked over to look into the tributary that flowed into the river. I waited for Cliff to survey the area to see if it was suitable to fish there.  Cliff returned and suggested that we move our fishing gear over to this little tributary.

The water in the tributary was not very deep, and the water was clearer.  The draw back to this place was that it was on the side of a 10 foot high bank.  The bank was covered with all kinds of flora (flowery things).  I should mention that this flora was really just a plethora of vines covering the bank.  Cliff and I cast our hooks into this tributary, and mine went directly into the vines.  Of course it did, where else would it go?  Cliff chuckled and said we could easily retrieve it.  Did I mention Cliff was a bit of an optimist?  Did I mention that even though Cliff and I were friends, he clearly did not know me very well!  And now let the adventure begin.

First we tried to jiggle it lose while kind of pulling it.  Strike one.  Next Cliff tried to take a long stick and undo the hook that way.  Strike two.  I decided that if Cliff held on to my hand, I could shimmy down the bank and unhook the hook.  Right - like that was going to be successful?  So holding onto his wrist and slowly crawling down the side of the bank,  I thought maybe we could get the hook.  I was within inches of the hook, and told Cliff to lower me a little bit more.  Cliff then tried to lay down on the bank.  While doing that, his foot slipped, and he lost his balance giving me a bit of a jerk on the wrist.  The jerk caused me to let go of his wrist and of course I found myself sliding down the side of the bank landing butt first in the tributary.   Cliff yelled down, after he stopped laughing his butt off, and asked if I was ok?  Once he knew I was ok, he asked if could reach the hook and unhook it.   Really?  I just slid down a band and landed in a tributary and was now soaking wet, and YOU want the hook?  Errrr!  Sadly for Cliff,  I was not able to reach the hook  This meant that Cliff had to cut the line and leave the hook in the bank.  You know he could have done that right of way, and spared me the fall into the water!  But NOooooo I guess the hook was made of gold as we had to recover it!!!

I had to walk up the tributary to where I could actually climb out of the creek and get on dry land.  I was soaked so as I walked my shoes made noises.  Cliff thought that was particularly funny.  I was not so amused.  I got to my house and bid Cliff farewell.  He headed up Chestnut Street towards his home, and I walked into mine heading straight for the bathroom.  I would say I showered, but we didn't have one of those.  We had a tub with a hose and a shower head.  I cleaned myself off, got dressed and headed downstairs.  My mom had come home from work and asked how my day was.  I told her that I had made a life decision.  She looked surprised at my response and then asked what this life decision was?  I told mom that I was never ever going fishing again.  I turned and walked into the TV room where I settled down in front of the TV and watched until it was time for dinner.

As of the typing of this story, I have never ever been fishing again!  And I just remembered that a week or so later Cliff told me on the way home from school that he had gone back down to the river and retrieved his hook.  Really?