Not Personal
We’ve had a cool, windy and wet spring in my neck of
the woods. Just last week, nearly every morning
was covered in frost. I know that
Michelle was getting anxious to take the first kayak paddle of the season. To be honest, there was one day last week
where the morning temperature was 50 degrees, and the predicted high
temperature was near 70. I beat Michelle
to planning just the right use for such a rare day by declaring a few days
previous that it was my intent to soak my fishing boat for the first time of
the year. She took it pleasantly enough. She has had to deal with my love of fishing
for our entire marriage, so I hoped she didn’t take it personal.
Perhaps to help smooth my own twinge of guilt, I rose
much earlier than Michelle thinks is civilized, and I pulled out of the
driveway well before sunrise. Even
though it was a weekday, the lake I intended to fish is very popular and I
hoped to beat the expected crowd.
My plan worked perfectly, except for the dozens of other
fishermen who had arrived earlier than I.
I think there are about a dozen official parking spaces in the lot, but
they were all taken and trucks and empty boat trailers lined both sides of the
narrow road leading to the boat landing.
It only took about twenty minutes until it was my turn to launch. I parked more than a quarter mile from the
ramp. I could have mumbled to myself
about it, but I tried to not take it personal.
I picked this lake – along with apparently every other
fisherman in Wisconsin, because I have never had any trouble catching fish here. I fished it for the first time with my father
a thousand years ago when I was twelve, and I continue to fish here several
times a year. I expected that the
crappies should be staging and they should be easy pickings. There were three boats already anchored in
the first spot that I wanted to try, but there are several others just as
good. In the second spot there were two
boats, but they were spaced well apart, so I settled in between them. So, I had to share the best spots; I decided
not to take it personal.
I fished hard into the early afternoon. I tried half a dozen sure spots. Not only did I not catch a fish, but I didn’t
even get a bite. At least I had plenty
of bait! I tried to not take it
personal.
This past Saturday the weather forecast was
reasonable. Michelle headed me off at
the pass and suggested, with a couple of days’ notice, that it would be a fine
day to get the kayaks out. Wisely, I agreed.
It seemed a little like Deja vu as we got to the boat
landing to see that all the parking spots were occupied. I had to park alongside the road again.
We began paddling around the lake with a steady breeze
in our faces, and about a six-inch chop on the water. A blue heron rose up out of the shoreline heather
and flew Pterodactyl-like a hundred yards down the shoreline. He did his best to blend in, but we knew that
we were going to repeat his pattern a couple more times until he decided to fly
behind us rather than in front of us. We
just happened passing by in the same direction with no intention of crowding
him. I hoped he didn’t take it personal.
We hugged the shoreline knowing that this first trip
is always the longest loop around the lake.
In another couple of weeks thick lily pads will weave a mat a hundred
yards or so out from the shoreline, squeezing our route around the lake. Already there were a few lily pads visible
but they were widely scattered so we could paddle through without difficulty.
As we made the first big turn we spotted a pair of
loons holding close to the mid-lake island.
The breeze had become a steady wind and it had switched directions so
that it was going to quarter at us as we paddled along the far shore. By the time we had paddled that far, the chop
on the water had become whitecaps that were about a foot and a half. I suggested that we stick closer to the
shoreline “just in case”. I have to
admit that it was a dicey paddle. Since
the waves were quartered into us, you couldn’t help but every minute or so,
feel the back end of the kayak get pushed hard as the kayak settled into the
trough between waves. With the front end
of the kayak down there was nothing you could do to stop the next wave from
hitting the bow just right so as to send a splash right into our faces. The few people that were out on their docks
didn’t really say much as we fought our way past them, but I know what they
were thinking: “Fools”. If we could have
traded places I would have thought the same thing. I tried not to take it personal. Our own conversation between Michelle and I
also died as we focused our attention on staying upright.
Finally, by the time that we reached the lee shore and
were just minutes from the boat landing, the waves tamed again to that six-inch
chop.
Fifteen minutes later I was tightening up the ratchet
strap that holds the kayaks securely in the bed of my pickup truck when another
couple, about our age, pulled up. They
had an inflatable raft. I suggested that
they may want to just stick to this near shore to avoid the churning whitecaps when
the woman said, “Oh it doesn’t look very rough out there.” I looked out at the water. The waves had settled dramatically with nary
a whitecap to be seen. I realized that
the steady wind was back to a light breeze.
“Enjoy,” was all I could say. I
was really trying hard not to take it personal.
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
Photo by Esra Afşar on Unsplash
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