HORSESHOE POND
It is 5 AM and my alarm is blaring in my ear. It is the first day of summer vacation and the world is mine. I don’t have anything to worry about until starting the 9th grade in a few months. A few months that at the beginning of the summer, seemed like a lifetime away.
I hurriedly threw on some cutoff jeans and a raggedy old shirt. In those days holey jeans were free and made for good shorts.
Outside awaited my ticket to freedom. My ten-speed bike. It got me everywhere those days. A good Walkman and a ten-speed provided unrestricted freedom to a thirteen-year-old. On this day, the first day of summer, it would be taking me to Horseshoe Pond.
I grabbed my fishing pole in one hand, tackle box in the other, and with the music blaring, off I went.
Remember the handlebars on ten speeds? Carrying a fishing pole and tackle box on one of those wasn’t easy. I would be going as fast as possible, and you could tell I had taken a fall or two. My knees, for the whole summer, were one big scab. I would get up, with blood pouring from my knees, get back on the bike, and keep going. I just wanted to go fishing and nothing else really mattered.
Arriving at the pond right at the break of dawn sent an exhilarating chill of anticipation down my spine. The sounds of insects chirping and fish jumping filled the air. Horseshoe pond was part of Pine Creek, which flowed into the Black River, which was directly connected to Lake Michigan. It was quiet and secluded. You could stay there all day and not see another soul. You could also fish all day and not catch a thing. That was the reality of one of the few accessible fishing places for a thirteen-year-old on his ten-speed.
I didn’t care. At the time I fished because I was away from the chaos and turmoil that was my life. It was a place of solitude where I worked out a great deal of my own struggles.
I set my bike down, opened my tackle box and tied on a big green and white spinner bait, and began casting. The water was relatively clear, and my polarized glasses made it easy for me to see in the water. I was fishing right along the edge of a weed line. From out of nowhere a huge fish exploded from the weed beds and attacked my bait. I could clearly see the vertical lines that identified the fish as a Tiger Musky. They have sharp needle-like teeth, making it easy to bite through my eight lb. test line.
My heart was racing. I had never seen a fish like this before. I mainly caught a few small Bass in Horseshoe. One time I caught a twenty-four-inch Northern Pike, but this fish was of a different class altogether. Of course, being a direct outlet of Black River, there is no telling what may be lurking in this small outlet.
I was so excited I tied on an inline Mepps spinner, made specifically for Musky. I had a couple of these that I had bought from earning money mowing lawns. I always knew it was possible for these fish to make their way to this pond, so I always had a couple of them in my box. I cast again…BAM! He hit it a second time, and once more snapped my line.
The chances I would land this fish on a 6′ bass rod with 8lb. test line were next to nothing. That didn’t stop me from doing what was necessary. I tied on an eight-inch steel leader with my last inline spinner. I was so excited. This fish was aggressive and after striking twice I had no reason to believe he wouldn’t hit again. My hands were shaking from adrenaline as I frantically tied the knot.
I scan the water looking for signs, anything to tell me where to cast next. Seeing nothing, I throw to the same spot as last time and my lure gracefully flies across the pond, and into the trees as my clumsily tied knot unravels midair.
I was pissed, what can I say? I tied on another lure, a cheap rusty swim bait, and never saw the fish again.
Horseshoe Pond represents a lost time when kids could find freedom in the wild not too far from home. Today, it has been made into a park with ridiculous docks covering much of the water, and all the fishing areas are left overgrown and inaccessible.
It is places like Horseshoe Pond where young boys find themselves and learn the lessons of life. Today, dragging a thirteen-year-old away from their X-box is an impossible task. Everyone needs a place like Horseshoe Pond.
