Kazu and I are competing in a bass fishing tournament on our favorite lake on June 18th. As such, we now of course must practice as much as possible, heh heh. So under the guise of disciplined and diligent tournament preparations we blew off work and headed back to the lake on Wednesday.
So I ran into Kazu in the halls of AP House Thursday night around 11pm or so… and to make a long story short he breathlessly invited me to go fishing the following morning at an absurd 4am.
What sort of advantages Kazu seeks to earn by departing at such unearthly hours are unbeknownst to me. Perhaps he thinks, in that twisted mind of his, that if we arrive early enough we’d actually be able to simply pick the bass up out of the water, such would be the depth of their slumber.
Who knows… In any case, never one to pass up an opportunity to abandon work and embrace the nirvana of watery pursuits, I accepted.
Today was, to sum up in one single word, brutal. The plan was to wake at 5am and set off for a morning fishing trip. At 5am, after only 3 hours of sleep, I awoke to find a driving rain, temps in the low 40s, and 20mph winds outside my window. Seriously disappointed, I staggered down to Kazu’s room and left him a note on his white board (I was supposed to wake him…), then went upstairs and collapsed back into bed. The reason for our early departure was that we both had to be back for a dorm-wide dodgeball tournament at 1.
Six hours later I rolled out of bed and settled into my computer chair to go through the usual morning routine of email and checking the news. Not five minutes later Kazu shows up at my door, telling me that dodgeball was canceled because of the rain, and suggesting we go now. I hadn’t even bothered to look out my window when I got up–it had become a beautiful day! So after some hastily-made plans we agreed to book it and hit the road in 15 minutes.
Today was my first bass fishing trip in Japan, and a memorable one at that. Kazu, one of the RAs in my building, is a fishing addict. Once he found out I also share the vice, it wasn’t a question of if, but only of when. Well, for better or for worse, “when” turned out to be 5am this morning. As I waited for Kazu to bring his car from the lot, it was obvious that only four hours of sleep takes its toll on a man.
After 45min of winding roads, hair pin turns, and the gas pedal firmly mashed to the floorboards of his Honda Civic, Kazu pulled onto a small side road that fizzled out in front of a creek and pronounced us there. In the predawn twilight we bushwhacked through 30min of weeds and giant spider webs before finally arriving at the rocky shores of a large impoundment.