I decided to try the mountain biking trail around Westwood lake. It was late afternoon. I have heard that it's a fairly difficult ride, but these trails are usually only as hard as you make them. I generally won't risk my neck, and get off and walk if it seems dangerous. I start winding my way around the lake. Very beautiful views and nice riding around the little ravines. Wow, there are many cutbacks, and little ravines. My legs start to burn after going up many small winding hills. Bumping over roots and smashing into rocks. My bike is a cross type, which is good for road riding and decent for off road, but not awesome for either. I do a slow crash two or three times into trees. I bust off one of my plastic pedals. I'm starting to wish this ride was over. I begin to notice the bridges are numbered. I'm on bridge 17 when the sun starts to turn the shadows long. I jump two deer, who turn and look back at this panting, bedraggled human on his machine. They glide away, leaping effortlessly through the forest. Around bridge twenty, I'm starting to really tire. I begin walking the bike up most of the steep areas. I don't stop and rest, because I want to get back before dark, and I'm sure Jody is worried. I jump three more large deer. They turn, unseen, and stop. I hear the buck snorting loudly. Two, three times he snorts his indignation at being roused. Bridge 23, sweet Jesus when does this trail end? There are stretches where you can glide along through the forest without too much fear of dying. I keep telling myself it is worth the pain. Finally, while walking the bike along an easy part, I see the road ahead, jump on my bike and pedal out. Victorious, albeit whipped.

I awoke to the incessant chatter of the squirrel. After letting our golden, Riley, off her leash, I notice my fishing rods leaning against the picnic table. The word at Westwood Resevoir is that the fishing has been slow, but what the hell. As dawn breaks I pick my way through the exposed tree roots and make my way downhill to the lake. I sling a nightcrawler out with my baitcaster. I set it down, and begin rigging up my spincaster for bluegills. As soon as I start putting a redworm on my hook, the baitcaster starts jerking towards the lake. I lift it and set the hook. A fiesty little bass comes to hand a few moments later. I release the bass, readjust the nightcrawler which is a little damaged but still intact, and cast it back out. I then cast out my redworm on a slip bobber and proceed to catch a small bluegill. Well this does not seem like slow fishing. The front that came through last night must have stimulated the fish. As I am pondering this, the baitcasting line starts peeling off into the deep. I lift the rod and strike, and feel a heavy fish. The fish starts pulling out line and the drag whines. I pump the fish back and reel in some line. The drag whines again. I have the dreaded feeling that the fish wrapped the line around a branch of a downed tree to the left of me. Meanwhile I also notice that the slipbobber is going crazy on my spincasting outfit. I keep pressure on the baitcaster, while I somehow manage to reel in the bluegill on the spincaster. I end up tangling the bluegill line in a tree branch and set it down out of the way where the bluegill can still swim around. Meanwhile the catfish is still pulling out drag. I know it's a catfish, because all there is in this lake is panfish, bass and catfish. At this point I have decided to slip out of my flip flops and pajama bottoms and head out into the lake. The braided 20 pound test line is holding up fine, but I cannot pull the catfish from out of the log or branches. I walk in the water up and down the shore to no avail. I really don't want to, but it must be done. I hold the rod above my head and start swimming to the middle of the lake. There is a steep drop off. The water is soon above my head. I swim about 20 to 30 yards and have the wonderful feeling that the catfish is free of obstructions. He starts pulling out more drag, and I try to keep the line taught while dog paddling with one hand. For a minute I'm fighting that fish in the middle of the lake, buck naked. A rather exhilerating morning for sure. I make my way back to the bank and proceed to land the 5-6 pound channel cat. I then release the little bluegill and whoop for joy. Hell, I havn't even had my coffee yet.