2020-2021 Youth Writing Contest Special Recognition – Junior Category – Maine (Grades 6–8)
A Day at Bunganut Lake, Lyman Maine
Hunter Vivian, Alfred, Age 13, grade 7
It was a cool summer morning. I was downstairs eating my breakfast. I peered out the window, and saw the sun just peeking out over the horizon. I heard the stairs creak behind where I was sitting, and turned to see my younger sister walking down the stairs.
“Good morning,” she chirped happily.
“Good morning to you, too,” I replied. On this particular summer morning, we were all waking up early to take an early morning lake trip. We all loved the lake – swimming, kayaking, fishing.
As my parents began to stir, I passed the clock that read fifteen past seven, and loaded my fishing rod and tackle box into the back of our car. It was warm out, and the grass had that summer dew. I felt my bare feet getting wet and grassy as I walked back inside.
My parents were up and getting breakfast for themselves. We quickly loaded the rest of our things up and left – we wanted to get there early, so we could be on the lake by ourselves.
I looked out my window excitedly as we went down the bumpy dirt road that led up to our spot. I saw the water through my window. Our friend had a vacation house on the lake, and was not here this year. She was nice enough to let us go to the lake spot she had.
You could see across the lake clearly from the area where we parked. I excitedly grabbed my rod and tackle box, and took a moment to admire the pure stillness of the water. There was that morning fog, and the sun was very low in the sky, covered by the fog.
I threw my life jacket on as my Dad carried the canoe down. He put it in the water.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked me.
“I am. I want to catch a fish!” I replied excitedly. I had not been fishing for very long, as this was my first summer fishing, and had never caught a fish. I looked back and saw my mother getting ready to take some pictures from the kayak, and my sister affixing her swimming mask. I loved to swim as well, but this morning I was going to fish.
I took off, gliding in the smooth, still water. I picked up the paddle and propelled myself, amazed by the stillness and beauty. I paddled into a nearby cove, where I cast my rod. I waited a bit, and let myself be drifted around by the wind. Occasionally I would reel my rod in, and cast in a new spot. I listened to the silence around me.
“Look! A fish!” I heard my sister call. There was a fish – it had jumped out of the water near me. I cast my rod where the fish had jumped, motivated now.
I did not get a bite that morning, but I loved the beauty of the water on that early morning fishing trip.
