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Good Friday this year was an adventurous day for me.

It started with a 4 a.m. wake-up call. Under normal circumstances, I'd still have another three hours of dreaming to do. My husband, Dick, and I had planned a fishing outing with the Skinners, a family of four. Because of the number of people and the size of our Carolina Skiff 198, it was mandatory for me to take a crash course on towing a second boat and on driving it once we got to the river.

I've held many titles in my life -- seamstress, cook, shooting instructor and the list goes on -- but captain or fishing guide was a new one for me.

Towing a boat to the river might not sound intimidating, but the river was a three-hour trip from our driveway. The most I'd ever done in the towing department was when Dick was driving and couldn't stay awake any longer. I took over knowing that all I had to do was drive forward. Turning corners was a whole other lesson, not to mention backing up.

Now I was getting scared, for myself and for the other people on the road. The boat I was towing was a J16 Carolina Skiff, borrowed from my son-in-law. The size was not as intimidating as Dick's boat. My Grand Vitara hooked to the little boat was actually kind of cute.

When we all got to the boat landing there were a few other boaters between Dick and me, which gave him time to launch his boat, leave it with his crew, then back mine into the water. Once we were all in our boats on the bank of the Roanoke River, I got one last refresher course from Dick.

The easiest step was to push the starter button, then put the motor in reverse. Murphy's law kicked in, as usual. I pushed the button and it didn't start. I used the choke, still nothing. The frustration in Dick's eyes said, "How hard can this be?" I, on the other hand, was thinking that if I couldn't even master starting the boat, how in the world was I ever going to put it up on plane, drive it and anything else that sounded a ton harder than simply starting it?

After he scrambled out of his boat and got into mine, Dick found that "someone" had simply unhooked the fuel line. I was off the hook as guilty, because I didn't even know where the fuel line was.

Once the line was fixed, I had a great time on the river. Kristi Skinner, my shipmate for the day, stayed calm and trusted that I knew what I was doing. The one thing in my favor was that if I did something wrong, short of flipping the boat, she probably wouldn't know it. That gave me room to make mistakes and fix them myself.

Kristi had already told me she was squeamish about touching live minnows and big fish. I've been doing my own hook baiting for quite some time, so I told her that since I was her fishing guide, I'd be doing all that for her. That's the least I could do, since she was giving me the confidence I needed to get through the day.

We had a blast, caught fish, talked girl talk and solved all the world's problems, all on a 16-foot skiff. Life was great.

Our way to fish on the Roanoke River is to float it. When you anchor your boat, you have a tendency to be in somebody's way. When you're floating, you have to be aware of the other boats around you, but, since most of them are floating, too, it's pretty simple. The occasional anchored boat just makes you stay on your guard. Kristi helped me watch for other boats, and made it through the day without capsizing anyone.

The minnows we were using were doing an adequate job, but we weren't exactly slaying the stripers. We did discover a source for shad, (a much better bait for stripers) right on the river, and he's from the Triad. Adam Brooks of Lexington owns Fowl Hooked Bait Company and ties up on the left side of the river about 100 yards down from the ramp. Adam raises shad and sells them, live and frozen, on the river during the season.

Since our day on the Roanoke River, the number of fish caught there has increased. We were at the beginning of the spawning season. Action on artificials has picked up, and George Beckwith, a real guide, has had a 49-pound fish.

You're allowed to keep two stripers per person, and if you've never eaten striper you need to call my husband and have him cook you some. You can check out our Web site at www.offtheporchmedia.com for some great recipes. A striped bass is a great fish that can be fried, baked or even grilled.

It was a long and productive day, and at one point Kristi's daughter, Ashley, boarded our vessel thinking the fishing was better on our boat than on Dick's boat. She did catch a keeper, but for the ride back to the landing she thought the "chick boat" was just a little too slow.

After a day of baiting hooks, taking fish off the hook, re-tying lost rigs and keeping the boat straight in the river, I'll never again question what a guide charges for a trip.

Cherie Jones is a freelance outdoors writer living in High Point. You can visit her Web site at offtheporchmedia.com and contact her at offtheporch52@yahoo.com