A voyage on the Maiden of Mayhem

Katie Dolac / Culpeper Star Exponent
Published: April 25, 2007

I don't think my friend's dad, whom we'll call Mr. Mayhem, knew what he was getting into when I was invited on the family fishing expedition.

Wait. Let me rephrase that. My friend's dad did not know what he was getting into when I was invited on the family fishing expedition.

Me… the same tough girl who was chased out of the water on her first snorkeling adventure. As soon as I saw the fish looking back at me with their vacant glassy eyes, I panicked. To this day, my friends say they could hear my blood-curdling scream from underwater, and I - a full-grown adult - sprang out of the water like a jack-in-the-box and practically ran on water all the way to shore, where I sat hyperventilating as my friends jeered and snickered like I'd just ripped one in gym class. I will neither confirm nor deny such an event took place.

I've come a long way since then. A few snorkeling attempts later and I graduated to swimming (very uncomfortably) with fish the size of my hand for very short periods of time. That was monumental.

But this trip, I would not be swimming. The boat would separate the fish and me, I in a dry vessel, and the fish in indigenous waters. The object of the game was simple. Instead of encroaching on their territory, I would be bringing them into mine - leveling out the playing field… sorta.

"I can do this," I thought.
Well, we finally got to a good fishin' spot. Seeing as I hadn't been fishing since I was about 10, I needed a little help starting out. OK, a lot of help starting out.

Apparently I wasn't the only one who didn't know what I was doing. None of the girls on the boat seemed to have a clue. And well, Mr. Mayhem was outnumbered three to one.

He couldn't even cast his own line for the first hour because he was too busy juggling the three of us, casting and taking fish off our lines.

I was the first to catch one. A croaker, maybe 10 inches long, deemed large enough to keep. I was feeling pretty proud of myself.

"Take that fish! Who's laughing now-" I thought.
The day passed, and reeled in four keepers. The gals chatted it up, wondering if it were actually possible to catch two fish on our two-hook line. Mr. Mayhem said yes, but I was skeptical.
"This isn't so bad," I thought. "I think I'm getting over my little phobia."

The sun was setting. We switched our bait from squid to shrimp. And then it happened.

A bite. I felt a gentle tug on my line, jerked it and started reeling.

I felt like I was reeling in a marlin, but it wasn't putting up too big of a fight. For a moment I was afraid I'd caught some junk on the bottom of the river.

And then it surfaced, not one, but two pair of beady eyes stared at me.

Two at once! This warranted a photo.
My friend snagged her cell phone camera before Mr. Mayhem threw them back.

I dangled the fish in front of me, and cheesed for the camera.
"Closer," my friend said.

So I held pulled them in a little closer.
"No," she said, grabbing my arm and bringing them right up to my face.

I screamed another blood curdler.
The cell phone photo tells it all: Me, next to two flopping fish, and the most terrified expression on my face.

Guess I was wrong; ridiculous phobia still in tact. Here's another one for my friends to embellish.

Katie Dolac can be reached at 825-0771 ext. 138 or .