Jumping in the lake

By Jim Brewer For the News & Messenger
Published: July 16, 2008

I went to Smith Mountain Lake for a long weekend with my family last week and attempted to do what no other living person has ever done before – take 5 grandchildren fishing at the same time without heavy sedation. I hear that one granddad in Virginia went fishing with four of his young offspring, but he is still confined to a high security room in the psychiatric wing of UVA Hospital.
My grandkids range in age from two fireball 8-year-old male twins down to my youngest, an almost 2-year-old girl, child with absolutely no fear of the water. Her inclination to jump off boat docks without prior warning is especially troubling when taking your children’s kids on a fishing expedition where there are reasonable expectations that all the youngsters will be returning more or less alive.
On this memorable day in the annals of famous and fabulous fishing feats, I gathered all the children in a tight circle with these implicit instructions: First, please do not put any more bubble gum in Big Daddy’s fishing chair, even though it may seem to be funny when the old man gets stuck to his seat. Second, we will be using extremely light line, so don’t horse the fish if you get a hook up. Finally, I instructed, be quiet as a church mouse because carp – our intended prey - are very spooky fish and will swim away with the slightest disturbance
“Okay, Big Daddy,” they said in unison.
One by one, I helped them cast their lines, but before I could ever finish the fifth cast, anglers numbers one and two had reeled in, lost their corn and were ready to go again. This went on for four or five bait and cast cycles with nary a bite to show for it.
Then, without warning, there was a resounding splash off the dock as all five munchkins jumped in and were soon swimming around in the lake – all except Berkley, the 2-year old who has developed an unusual tadpole-style of stroke and was merrily bobbing along like a cork float until I fished her out.
Now wishing I had brought more Valium in my shaving kit, I ceased fishing and took on the more urgent role of lifeguard.
“You realize we’ll never catch any fish with you kids splashing like that,” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
“What did Big Daddy say?” one twin asked the other.
“I think he said keep splashing the fish,” the other replied.
And they did. It was a tsunami out there. The water levels at Smith Mountain Lake dropped at least two feet.
At that point, one of the abandoned rods still bearing a niblet of corn on the hook nearly went overboard. I grabbed it at the last second and set the hook.
Minutes later, I reeled in a six-pound carp, our biggest fish of the trip.
“Nice job, Big Daddy,” said one of the munchkins. “But I thought you said fish wouldn’t bite if we were loud?”
That night for payback I told them ghost stories so creepy that Rip Van Winkle would have stayed awake 20 years.
In my new book, “Fishing For Ninnies”, I had to re-write Chapter 12 on catching carp.
“Here’s how,” I wrote.
Find five children of assorted ages and spread them out on a boat dock at about 4-foot intervals. Attach a piece of corn on a small hook and toss it in the water. Then, turn your back for a split second so all the children will jump in the lake. When they do, first save the children and then reel in your carp. It’s that simple.