Today was an abbreviated, but memorable, outing.
I was able to hit the river for a couple hours this afternoon.
Literally sixty seconds after I parked at the water, a family of six pulled up three spaces away and piled out with their fishing poles.
What are the chances they were going to the same area as me?
If you said 100%, you’d be correct.
It’s amazing how often this happens. It’s almost like I’m on a hidden camera show and someone’s just messing with me.
Anyway, the kids wished me luck and suddenly I felt like a jerk for being frustrated.
While the family wasn’t standing next to me, I could hear them talking (and screaming) clearly.
There was a small cove just a rock’s throw from where I was standing, and I could see several carp mulling around in its shallow water.
Getting into position with my bow, I noticed that these carp weren’t spooking. Bonus!
I slowly pulled the arrow back, took careful aim at a carp facing me, and let it fly.
The arrow flew around 12-feet and penetrated the water exactly where I was aiming. I was sure that I’d just achieved a bullseye.
But the fish just swam away.
Frustrating.
I told myself that there were several carp and I’d get more chances.
Ah, but the kids had spotted me. They yelled to the others that I was bowfishing and, sensing a crowd gathering, I left the area.
I’m not a fan of spectators, but I do understand that bowfishing isn’t something most people see every day.
I worked my way downriver and didn’t see any carp within shooting range.
After 20 minutes, I walked back towards the cove and saw that it was free of people.
I positioned myself on a small boulder with a fantastic vantage point. It was positioned about two feet into the river.
I spotted a large carp ambling towards me, so I got ready.
There was thunder in the distance, and the skies were cloudy and grey. I couldn’t see into the water very well, but I followed the black object as it swam.
I stood perfectly still.
Then I lost the fish in the glare. Strangely, some of the worst glare occurs when the sun is behind clouds.
Suddenly I spotted the fish, about 12-14 feet off the shoreline, moving parallel to my position. The carp was just a few inches beneath the surface, my favorite type of shot.
A few seconds later, I watched my arrow fly right into the fish. My arrow literally carried the fish back several inches.
The fish seemed stunned, and maybe partially disabled, because I was able to pull it in manually without too much resistance.
It was a beast. Bigger than it looked underwater. Here are a few pictures of the large carp.
Several minutes later, rain peppered the water’s surface, and I decided to call it a day having taken just two shots.
But, it was worth it.
