Just more than four years ago I bought my girlfriend, Chelsea, her very own fishing pole. That was my first mistake.

Playing the helpful boyfriend, I gave her a brief instruction on how to cast the new rod - without taking too much time away from my own fishing, of course.

That was my second mistake.

Within minutes, she was casting the line perfectly, placing her bait in her desired location as any experienced angler would. She had acquired this new skill without any - of what I considered essential - practice, such as casting a sinker in the street, or gaining the feel of the right moment to release the line by casting one of those stubby, clicky-button Mickey Mouse poles.

Needless to say, I was impressed. But unbeknownst to me, she already had begun bumping me off my pedestal as the superior fisherman - a process that would take her just over four years.

The next few years went pretty smoothly as she lulled me into a false sense of dominance. She would sit in the front of the boat or canoe, altering her obviously already refined fishing technique so that she “could only catch little bluegill” and, as I now believe it to be true, would remove her bait entirely without me knowing to prevent any possibility of out-fishing me and, therefore, insulting my manliness.

Eventually, I moved away from Alpena and began fishing Gaylord's area lakes, finding quite a wealth of fishing spots. I now understand Chels saw this as an opportunity to allow me to scout out some water where she could finally put me in my place.

I always look forward to taking her out fishing - not only to catch fish, but to enjoy the water, sunshine and her company. Plus, I keep (and frequently use) her fishing pole over here - my method of maintaining an upper hand in the boat.

She came from Alpena to visit me in June and the day finally came that we were headed to my pike lake together, after making a quick stop at the bait shop to choose a shiny new spinner bait. She browsed the rack of lures quickly and came across a chartreuse and orange rig that she chose over the rest, with the rationale that “it looked pretty.” She had made her first move toward her impending reign.

Later on the water, we paddled calmly from the access to the other end of the lake and anchored near the spot I had fished earlier in June. Though she hadn't even picked up her rod in over a month, her first cast shot straight to the edge of the reeds and she retrieved her bait with the speed and technique of a veteran angler.

Her first cast was unproductive but her second met its mark. Chels landed her first pike ever - an 18-incher.

A few casts later, she landed her second pike of about the same size. I smiled, took her picture with her fish, but knew I had to buckle down since I had not yet gotten anything.

Then she landed her first-ever bass shortly after - a legal-size largemouth. I took her picture and got back to fishing.

The day remained fruitless for me as we approached the launch site an hour or so later, my fishing partner's gleeful smirk leading the way. She had put me in my place.

We paddled on and I looked for my last chance to salvage the day.

“Go ahead and stow your rod, Chels, I'm just gonna take one more cast ...”

- Chris Engle is the herald Times editorial assistant. You may write to him at PO Box 598, Gaylord, MI 49734 or e-mail cengle@gaylordheraldtimes.com.

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