Before going to the vintage vehicle event, my early Saturday morning was spent strolling along the water’s edge. Surprisingly, there was not much action at Bishop Park, likely because it was so hazy when I first arrived.
The walkers and runners might have been missing, but the fisherman were already up and at ‘em, some out on their boats, …
… and others with poles gently resting against the fence that frames the boardwalk where fishing is permitted. They silently sipped coffee, and, deep in thought, gazed out at the water. Usually, early on weekend mornings, the fishermen line up along the pier that juts out into the Detroit River, as it is a primo point to fish from, but there was only one lone fisherman casting out while a young girl stood by his side.
I took their photo when they glanced toward me and shouted that I was waiting for their next big fish so I could take another photo. The man said he was leaving soon because the fish just weren’t biting and other fisherman had already given up for the day.
Fishing is not allowed on some parts of the boardwalk as you see on this sign.
I was hoping to get a few good seagull shots since the sometimes pesky gulls are always quick to show up if you try to feed the ducks. This gull chose to rest on the railing and not go airborne, and originally had both feet planted on the top board.
As I approached him, he decided to assume a stork-like pose for some reason. I took a picture lest he decide to bolt for parts unknown.
But, he stayed in that pose, motionless, for the longest time, never moving as much as a muscle, even though I kept getting closer and closer to him.
Soon, I stopped in my tracks when the first shell passed the pier and came into my view.
The Ecorse Rowing Club was practicing, so I decided to watch them. The first shell went by and soon another hurried up and joined them.
I discovered that the motor boat traveling alongside the pair of shells was not just another boater, but the coach, as he was loudly calling out instructions to each crew. The shell’s large oars swept the water, carrying them forward rather quickly.
Soon a third shell of rowers passed the fishing pier and another motorboat accompanied them. I watched all three shells and their coaches as they faded into the distance. I knew I had to make tracks as well to make it on time to the Model A Rendezvous, and I hoped the train was not passing through on the tracks as I drove home.
Just as I was ready to leave, the sky finally brightened, with just a hint of blue. A whole mess of ducks suddenly streamed from under the boardwalk’s wooden railing, so out came the camera again. The ducks looked peaceful as they paddled in the water and one duck looked a little raggedy after diving deep for his breakfast.