Last week was a week of firsts!
Josh went out of town and I was on my own in the shop for the first time. I got to test my retention and recall skills Thursday when I got an order for 5 custom arrows. If this had been an internet order, I would have waited until Josh got home Saturday and let him make them. But, since it was a local walk-in, I found myself digging through boxes looking for a point with a dark metal 5 sided tip, two long dark barbs and a shiny silver middle. Thankfully, the Great White shafts were already cut with the nocks attached. I took all my goods to the workbench and proceeded to stare at the two drill presses, the shaver, the grinder, the bowpress and the plethora of drills and other tools I can’t even begin to name. I called Josh. After two more calls, I proudly produced 5 fully functional Long Barb Piranha Great White arrows! *Yeah, I’m patting my own back*
Sunday, Josh surprised me by putting a reel and an arrow on my bow. I had finally passed some unspoken test and graduated to shooting (instead of just drawing) the bow. He took me to the yard to aim at a bright yellow, hard foam football-on-steroids (also known as a buoy). With him standing behind my right shoulder, my first shot punched right through the center of the buoy. I think, “Yeah, I’m a natural”. I missed the next four shots. After sticking a few more shots, we decided it was time to pack up and go out on the boat.
I knew it was going to come to this. I knew, eventually, I was going to shoot at a fish. That WAS the point of all this training, right? I don’t know if I was more excited to try or more nervous to fail, but I had some serious butterflies as we backed the boat off the trailer. I was ignoring thoughts of “I’m not ready” and “I’ll just watch this time” when the boat pulled away from the dock. I hope Josh didn’t notice my white knuckle grip on the seat or my pulse jumping in my throat as he slowed the boat and killed the motor.
I put on my polarized H3O sunglasses. I picked up the Oneida Osprey kindly lent to me by Rob James (The Real Rob, not to be confused with Neighbor Rob or the Imitation Punk- Flavored Rob). I nocked the arrow and laid it in the rest, checking to make sure the slider was out front, the stop was facing up and the line was not wrapped around anything. I pushed the button on my Synergy TI20 spinning reel and I was as ready as I was going to get. It was go time.
I see one! I shoot right over the top of it. Damn. Oh! There’s another! I shoot right over the top again. Double Damn. Fish!! I take a deep breath, aim carefully and…shoot right over the top of the stupid thing. I made some kind of growling animal noise and resisted the urge to hurl the bow at the fish and go read my book. Shoot, miss. Shoot, miss. Come on, that fish was so close I could have leaned over and picked it up! My arm was starting to tremble and my morale was badly suffering. I gave myself a mental kick in the arse, lifted the bow and shot. I was already reeling when I realized there was some serious resistance on the other end of that line.
I got one! I got one! HOLY MOTHER I GOT ONE!! Josh helped me reel it in and I held my fish up in a victory pose. I bit my lip and blinked furiously, determined not to let any tears fall. There’s no crying in bowfishing, not even if they’re Happy-Girly-I-Can’t-Believe-I-Did-It tears.
It was quite a few more shots until I got my next fish, but the reward was well worth the effort. I’m the newest member of the Utah 20# club. I can't descibe how it felt to see tangible results from 2 months of hard work. Let’s just say, I tried bowfishing and I’m stuck!
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Josh went out of town and I was on my own in the shop for the first time. I got to test my retention and recall skills Thursday when I got an order for 5 custom arrows. If this had been an internet order, I would have waited until Josh got home Saturday and let him make them. But, since it was a local walk-in, I found myself digging through boxes looking for a point with a dark metal 5 sided tip, two long dark barbs and a shiny silver middle. Thankfully, the Great White shafts were already cut with the nocks attached. I took all my goods to the workbench and proceeded to stare at the two drill presses, the shaver, the grinder, the bowpress and the plethora of drills and other tools I can’t even begin to name. I called Josh. After two more calls, I proudly produced 5 fully functional Long Barb Piranha Great White arrows! *Yeah, I’m patting my own back*
Sunday, Josh surprised me by putting a reel and an arrow on my bow. I had finally passed some unspoken test and graduated to shooting (instead of just drawing) the bow. He took me to the yard to aim at a bright yellow, hard foam football-on-steroids (also known as a buoy). With him standing behind my right shoulder, my first shot punched right through the center of the buoy. I think, “Yeah, I’m a natural”. I missed the next four shots. After sticking a few more shots, we decided it was time to pack up and go out on the boat.
I knew it was going to come to this. I knew, eventually, I was going to shoot at a fish. That WAS the point of all this training, right? I don’t know if I was more excited to try or more nervous to fail, but I had some serious butterflies as we backed the boat off the trailer. I was ignoring thoughts of “I’m not ready” and “I’ll just watch this time” when the boat pulled away from the dock. I hope Josh didn’t notice my white knuckle grip on the seat or my pulse jumping in my throat as he slowed the boat and killed the motor.
I put on my polarized H3O sunglasses. I picked up the Oneida Osprey kindly lent to me by Rob James (The Real Rob, not to be confused with Neighbor Rob or the Imitation Punk- Flavored Rob). I nocked the arrow and laid it in the rest, checking to make sure the slider was out front, the stop was facing up and the line was not wrapped around anything. I pushed the button on my Synergy TI20 spinning reel and I was as ready as I was going to get. It was go time.
I see one! I shoot right over the top of it. Damn. Oh! There’s another! I shoot right over the top again. Double Damn. Fish!! I take a deep breath, aim carefully and…shoot right over the top of the stupid thing. I made some kind of growling animal noise and resisted the urge to hurl the bow at the fish and go read my book. Shoot, miss. Shoot, miss. Come on, that fish was so close I could have leaned over and picked it up! My arm was starting to tremble and my morale was badly suffering. I gave myself a mental kick in the arse, lifted the bow and shot. I was already reeling when I realized there was some serious resistance on the other end of that line.
I got one! I got one! HOLY MOTHER I GOT ONE!! Josh helped me reel it in and I held my fish up in a victory pose. I bit my lip and blinked furiously, determined not to let any tears fall. There’s no crying in bowfishing, not even if they’re Happy-Girly-I-Can’t-Believe-I-Did-It tears.
It was quite a few more shots until I got my next fish, but the reward was well worth the effort. I’m the newest member of the Utah 20# club. I can't descibe how it felt to see tangible results from 2 months of hard work. Let’s just say, I tried bowfishing and I’m stuck!
