Tate’s dad was living with Stanford Pines somewhere in the woods, they said they were going to study some sort of. . . Manotaurs. . .? Tate didn’t know, they were always trying to look for something. Stanford was always dragging his dad along for adventures. But, either way, it gave the 16 year old Tate some time to himself. And, since it was summer, Tate had the opportunity to do something he loved. Fishing!

So, Tate was at the lake, the Gravity Falls lake. He was the only one there relatively early in the morning, sitting on a dock on his own. He had his bait in a box on one side and his cooler to hold the fish he caught on the other side of him, even though he hadn’t caught anything yet. He was smiling, feeling lucky that he got the whole lake to himself, his feet hanging over the edge of the dock, but not touching the water.