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After a breakfast of camp coffee… bacon and eggs cooked on the open fire, and a little nibbling on each other, Amy and I get dressed. We put the fishing gear in the little rowboat along with a cafe umbrella to protect us from the sun.
I help Amy in, remarking to myself how much skin is exposed in that skimpy swimsuit she's wearing. My eyes are all over her as I help her climb into the boat. I untie it from it's mooring and push the boat into the lake a little ways, before hopping in. Using the oars, I swing us about and begin to row the boat out into the lake.
Amy's leaning over the stern, allow the cool waters to rush over her hand, which she has dangling in the water. We smile often at each other… not talking much… but just enjoying each other's company. Sometimes, not speaking can say volumes.
Finally we reach a quiet little spot. There's some timbers that have fallen into the lake, and some flowering lily pads. I tuck the boat into the timbers, to keep us from drifting.
“This looks like a decent spot, Sweets.” I say to her while looking about. “We should try our luck here.”
Amy agrees and after baiting our hooks, we drop the lines into the water. “If I was a fish… this is where I'd be.” I say to her. “I would feel safer with cover.”
I'm jigging the line and can feel some weight on the end. My pole bends slightly at the tip. “Got a bite.” I say quietly and pull slightly to set the hook… then I begin to reel in my catch.
“I think I just snagged something, there's no fight on the end.” I say to Amy, as she exclaims that there's something on her hook, too. She begins to reel in her line.
Almost near the surface now with mine, and I can see that I've caught a small, rectangular can. The lid is open but still attached, and I've hooked the can just under the rim, it's blue with yellow lettering and once I have a hold of it, I recoginise it immediately.
“Holy crap”, I say, “it's a can of spam!”
Amy pulls her line in and she's also caught an empty spam can.
“Somebody must have dumped them.” I say to Amy. “Probably used them to hold bait and somehow lost them overboard. It's amazing to think that we've each snagged one.”
We rebait out hooks and cast out, dropping the lines in. Again I feel my line snag something and reel it in, bringing up another empty spam can. Amy also brings up another. We take them off and drop the cans into the boat next to the others.
“Let's see if there's anymore down there.” I say and drop my line back in the water, not bothering to bait it. Sure enough… snagged another can of spam. Amy snags another too. Soon, it's can after can of spam coming up from the bottom of the lake.
“Sheesh,” Amy says, “there must be 30 cans here.”
“Yep.” I reply, “this is more than someone dropping their bait containers overboard. I wonder how many are actually down there. Maybe we should bring a magnet out on our next trip.”
Deciding that our fishing luck for today is non-existant, we decide to head back to our campsite. “What are we going to do with all these cans?” Amy asks, leaning her back on the transom, with the umbrella opened, shading her from the sun, while I row us back to shore.
“Bag 'em and recycle 'em.” I respond. “Only thing I can think to do with them.”
We make our way back to our little campsite, and I hop out of the boat and pull it onto the shoreline… and tie it up. Amy hops out of the boat and stands next to me. I find myself no longer able to resist, and take her into my arms. The feel of her skin on my hands and arms is soft and cool.
“Let's practice some more.” I whisper, as we both tilt our heads and lean in until the brims of our hats touch. Then we tilt a little more and out lips meet in a slow, lingering kiss.
For a reason that seems to be deep in me… upon seeing this mountain cascade…
… has conjured up a mental image similar to this …
… and this …
… and the thoughts that come to mind are …
…”We were watering the horses… but became… distracted” …
Suddenly…. I want to take a walk on the beach…I don't know about anyone else… but I've always found a certain sexiness to Tan Lines.
Why… the Trumpet Playing Sheep, of course…
…with jelly bean dispenser…
…a very rare breed… indeed!
