Fishing Trip In the early morning we all awake, and head down to the shimmering lake. The birds were chirping all around and the sun is emerging from the ground. We step into the boat and race across the tranquil waters of lake Malross. We looked around for our special spot, when we slowed down “The motor’s shot!” So here we were, stuck out here with nothing to drink but my father’s beer. We waited and wait for much too long, listening to the bird’s beautiful song. But their song was interrupted by a sound that was getting louder by leaps and bounds “A boat!” my dad squealed with glee. By the time we were rescued it was quarter to three.