It was such a glorious weekend up at Lake of the Woods, the lake you adored. Gracie had some initial troubles trying to keep fish on her line.
“You gotta set the hook!” Scott told her.
“What? How do I do that?” she replied.
I flashed back to memories of you in the small fishing boat you had early on in your fishing days. It was a metal boat with bench seats. I think there were three rows. I’m not sure who was driving the boat because I can see you sitting in the middle row.
We could never really tell how big the fish actually were that nibbled on your line. Whether it was minnow sized fish tasting your bait or a massive walleye darting for it all in one gulp, the drama of you setting that hook was always a sight to see.
You didn’t often give the fish too much time to gobble up that bait, setting it hard seemed to be your goal, whipping back that fishing rod so hard that occasionally the force yanked you off your seat and falling backwards onto the floor of the boat.
I remember laughing so hard I cried. And, for days afterwards, just replaying that scene over in my mind brought giggles and happiness knowing how entertaining you were.
We perhaps should name the type of “hook setting” that was characterized by your unique style. We could name it the Grampa Killian Hook, or maybe the DK Whipback. It needs a special name.
I’ll ask the fishermen next time I see them. And, then, we’ll have to model it for the grandchildren, so they all know what we are talking about.
Gracie did eventually catch a few fish.
Perhaps you were there to set those fish on the hook.