Swimming in December

is HIGHLY overrated.  Had a bit of an experience this past weekend while wading the Big Darby Creek here in Ohio.  Where my friend Steve and I were it was only a few feet deep but the current was strong!  To make a long story short, the current swept my feet out from under me and down I went.  I did however have a few things I do when wade fishing validated.

 

1) ALWAYS where your safety belt.  Most waders have an elastic pull cord built into the chest that should always be pulled tight however waders also come with an additional belt that gets strapped around the chest.  Make sure it’s on tight and feels like someone is hugging you tightly.  The reason for this is that it will buy you the time you need to get back up by preventing water from rushing down inside your waders and dragging you down even more.  While my 4 shirts were sopping wet my pants were over 80% dry because of that belt.

2) I always recommend that you have a chest pack or vest of some sort for your fishing gear.  This, if pulled tight, will also help prevent your waders from filling up.

3) Don’t wade alone!  Even if you tell someone where you are, if you fall in the first 10 minutes of being there, and nobody checks on you for 4 hours who knows what could have gone wrong.

4) If the current even looks questionable for wading, DON’T DO IT!

 

Just some simple safety thoughts that I wanted to share.  Ignore them if you want, but I wouldn’t!!

Self Realization or a Self Kick in the Butt

I’ve been writing now for about six or seven years and this has been an off and on process.  There are probably six manuscripts on my hard drive that I have every intention of finishing one day.  About four years ago I came up with what I thought was a brilliant story that combined many aspects of my life into one killer zombie story.  Masons, Knights Templar, World War II aircraft, and a crap ton of zombies.  It couldn’t have been any better.

While I was working on the manuscript my family suffered a great tragedy when my father succumbed to his battle with cancer.  After a lot of soul searching and pain I finished the book and it was published.  Now at that time an interesting thing began to happen.  People began to praise the book.  It got good reviews once some issues were worked out.  I was on cloud nine! 

So what the heck does this have do with anything?  Well, I don’t know why my book wasn’t as huge as we thought it would be and I’ve come to realize that it doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t matter that others kept telling me how great things would be or how awesome it was.

In the end I only have myself to place the blame on for an inflated ego.  The endless blog changes, multiple Facebook pages, advertising….

I got stuck on myself and soaked up anything that anyone said that was flattering and ignored the reality of things.

No apologies.  This is reality.  I have as much of a chance of hitting it big in the writing world as I do in catching a World Record Largemouth Bass in Ohio (which is impossible).  But you know what?  I still go fishing.  Any chance I get.  I’ll keep writing too.  You know why?  Because it’s about hope.  There is always a chance ya know?

All the Facebook pages but my own will be gone by the end of the evening.  If you are part of those and still want to be friends let me know.  I’d be honored!

In the end I’m a father, friend, fisherman, conservationist and author.  This is what I am and what I will always be.

The addiction known as fly fishing

I know, I know!  Crack, Heroin, alcohol, nicotine…..The list goes on and on, but wait until the first time you step in that stream, look around and there is nothing but beauty surrounding you.  Doubt me?  Check out this picture taken by Beth.

 

 

So there I am, the first time on running water with a fly rod.  Oh, I had cast and cast and cast some more at home in the yard, but this was to no avail.  I learned a lot but was really having a problem applying the knowledge I had gained.  What was wrong?  Well when you fish with a spinning rod or baitcasting rod you are casting the lure out onto or into the water, but with fly fishing you are casting the line and not the fly.  This revelation came to me as Beth and I drove up to the fishing spot.

On our way I decided to stop at a spot I knew of that overlooked the gorge we’d be fishing in so Beth could take some pictures.

We proceeded down the hilly road and across the covered bridge to meet up with a friend of mine named Bill who offered to play guide for the day.  I’d been to this location a couple times but never to fish in this manner!

Me, styling and profiling in my wading/stirrup pants that are worn underneath your chest waders.

Honestly the beauty of that day was breathtaking and it took me a few moments to really realize it was show time.  I went back to the car, sorted out who’s waders and boots belonged to who and got dressed.  It was time to see if I had any clue what I was doing!

I’m in the red hat and Bill is in the distance

Somebody had picked the flies for me, told me how to work them, but it was I who had to execute that day.  I was so at peace with nature I didn’t over think for once and it paid off in spades.

My first Brown Trout!

It was amazing to bring in that first fish.  Speckled golden brown.  I remember my teachings and only took him from the water long enough to take his picture.  Then I turned upstream and held him loosely in the current until he swam away.  It was cloud nine and the addiction was born.  I started trying different flies to learn how the trout would respond and they did!

My new habitat

Not a trout.  Thought it was a hognose sucker but now I have doubts.

 

Brown Trout pattern and coloring

I learned a lot that weekend about myself.  It’s not about the fish you catch.  Anything that ends up in your net is a bonus without a doubt.  But being out there with nature and realizing that what you see there is special, you become a little more humble about everything that is going on in real life.

I’ll miss you

One week ago today my friend of thirty eight plus years passed away, my Mother.  Wilma Grace Rogers was a quilter, cross-stitcher and many other things but first and foremost she was my friend.

She taught me the basics of cooking, laundry and how to drive (that explains a lot right there).  She acted as my sparring partner, nurse, and cheerleader.

Now she is gone from her corporeal form and with my father in heaven.  I’m thankful that she got to spend time with my daughter and I was able to share some of my more insane fishing stories with her.

I’ll miss her lasagna, her face lighting up when NCIS came on, and her excitement when Mallory came to see her.

 

I’ll miss you, Mom.  Take care and enjoy being with Dad again.

The Canoe & Celebrity

The Canoe

At this point in life my wife had already left me, I was splitting a one bedroom apartment with Beth, and I missed my daughter with a desperation that led me to some very stupid thoughts. With all this I continued to fish but learned something about myself, I HATED bank fishing like there was no tomorrow. Hate is a strong word but it is aptly used here. The Scioto River is snag central. Deadfall underwater, debris and odd rock formations had caused me to lose so many lures to this point I was plain pissed off. So I thought and thought some more. I thought so much that my roommate complained of the smell of smoke quite often. We couldn’t afford a boat so what was the next best thing? A canoe. Good God those things are like $500 for a decent one!

One day coming back from early morning of fishing and getting blanked again, it happened. Beth and I saw one for sale in a yard. The man wanted $200 for it and I managed to get it for $150. We finagled it into Beth’s truck, pulled muscles and got it tied down. Now this is when a good thing happened to me. I met Nick, Shaun and Casey at Gander Mountain. Now I don’t like name dropping stores but Gander Mountain is my local crack supplier. If I need something they usually have it and can help me out big time. We take the canoe there and Shaun helps us register the bad boy and off Beth and I go to Prairie Oaks to get it wet for the first time.

Did I mention I have anger problems sometimes? Every little thing that happened pissed me off that day. I really hurt Beth’s feelings because I was short with her. She didn’t really know what she was doing out there and I did thus the frustration. In my head I had myself catching a fifty pound bass (the world record is only like twenty five) because now I could access cover and structure that you can’t get to from the bank. I was a complete and total ass to the point that I broke one of the oars trying to paddle WAY to hard back into shore. The shank of the paddle went into my ribs and bruised the hell out of me for a couple weeks.

We never really went out together again on the canoe after that day. As a matter of fact I’m still cooking some pretty delicious meals to make up for being a supersized ass that day. Probably not a bad idea that we never went out again because the thing was awkward and heavy, however I did go out on it twice with Tim. The first time we caught a fair amount of bass and a gorgeous crappie. The second time made me famous.

Being a Celebrity

So Tim and I get this burr up our butts that we are going to go fish the Scioto and Olentangy Rivers around the confluence in downtown Columbus with the canoe. The launch went fine down a hidden boat ramp. We rowed up the Olentangy until we could go no further because it got to shallow for largies. Then we work our way around the confluence and up the Scioto catching nothing. We hadn’t even run across another fisherman with a catch except some guys with a few catfish. Tim and I find a cove and he manages a small rock bass. Rock Bass are kind of like Blue Gills on steroids. We decided to leave the cove and head up the water a little bit. Now I was in the stern of the canoe which is a crappy spot to fish from because you have limited angles unless you want to take your fishing buddies head off or better yet, put a hook in it. I sent a Texas rigged craw behind me on a back cast and got it snagged up real nice in some shrubs. All I was trying to do was fish a piece of deadfall and not hurt Tim.

Now when you get a snag from the bank you typically are not going to get the lure back. However from a boat you can move right up or over the lure and usually work it loose. So what did we do? Paddled the canoe over to the bush but there was one major problem; we had way too much momentum. Tim dropped his paddle which promptly skidded off the lip of the canoe into the murky and sometimes sewage filled water of the Scioto.

Now at this point Fate stepped in, flipped us both the bird and laughed maniacally at us. Tim lunged for the paddle sending the port or left side of the canoe under the water. When I realized what was happening I lunged to the right to counter balance the canoe and stop the flooding.

I have to interject some information here for those who have never been on a canoe. It is all about balance. If someone up front leans one way the person in the back goes the other to keep an even keel in the canoe. We failed. Not just poorly but I would deem it one of the most miserable FAILS that I have ever been involved in. Now back to the story.

So Tim lunges for the paddle while trying to keep the bush from attacking him and I lean the other way to stop the flooding. Only one problem with this, Tim realized the same thing and lunged to his right also causing the canoe to take on water from the right. He starts trying to paddle and we aren’t going anywhere. I spent about four years in the Navy so I know what is going on and why but Tim starts freaking a little bit as our gear starts to float out of the canoe because we are flooded. There is no getting the water out of it because the gunwales or edges are completely underwater. No bailing for us.

As we stand in the canoe that is now underwater we realize that we are only about ten to fifteen feet from the shore! Simple then right? Wade to shore and pull up the canoe, tip it, re-launch and we are back in business. Remember the sentence above about Fate? Well let’s just say she was pissing her pants at this point. I decide to be the brave one and step out into the river. Then a major problem arose because we are sitting on silt and my leg goes into the mud up to my hip while my other foot is still in the canoe. I can’t do the splits. I am not Mary Lou Retton. My foot was stuck in some seriously nasty silt and my boys were screaming in pain. Something I never told anyone about that day was that I severely pulled a grown muscle getting my foot loose and back in the canoe.

Now I’m beginning to freak a little bit but Tim is lighter than me at that point and decides he’s going to try because there are some branches by him and a lot of small twigs on the silt that he can walk on. It was all rotted. He sank. He kept trying to move forward which turned the silt into quick sand.

Time for a quick recap. I’m muddy, my balls are killing me, the canoe is flooded, our gear is trying to float away, Tim is now buried up to his chest in mud, and I lost a flip flop trying to get myself free of the mud. Just making sure we are all on the same page at this point.

We decided at some point to get our gear to shore at some point during all this, but now decided we needed it all back in the canoe, so we load it all back in as Tim is trying to work his way free. At this point of the story you probably have some tears streaming down your cheek from the stupidity of it all but this is actually where it got kind of scary. See, Tim suffers from anxiety attacks and as he continues to sink the attack gets worse. Now I’m going to switch how I’m telling the story because the dialogue at this point is somewhat odd.

Tim: Dude, I’m still sinking (he’s beginning to shake)

Me: Quit moving and stay still. You’ll stop sinking

Tim: We need to call someone.

Me: I dial 911

911: 911 what’s the nature of your emergency?

Me: We are stuck in the middle of the Scioto River and my fishing buddy is sinking in quicksand.

911: Can he get loose?

Me: Nope we need river rescue.

911: Let me transfer you to the fire department

Fire: Fire department, what’s the nature of your emergency?

Me: We are stuck in the middle of the fucking Scioto River and my buddy is sinking in quicksand.

Fire: What’s your location?

Me: THE MIDDLE OF THE SCIOTO RIVER!!!!!!!!!!

Fire: Sir, are there any bridges nearby?

Me: I think I see 670.

Fire: Yes sir, we’ll dispatch the team immediately.

Let me pause to interject some more information here. When Tim and I had first researched this area the fire department had been training with their boat. Another tidbit of info is that when you are fishing you put your phone on vibrate so you don’t alarm the fish; they are kind of skittish.

Tim: Are they coming?

Me: Yep, they sure are. Should I call the girls?

Tim: Yep but tell them not to come down.

Me: Hey, Beth, how are you?

Beth: What did you do now?

Me: Well, I’m calling from the middle of the Scioto in the canoe.

Beth: And?

Me: We sank it. Tim is stuck in quicksand and we are waiting on river rescue.

Beth: WHAT? Do you need us down there?

Me: No but let Becky know that Tim is okay please.

Beth: Are you sure?

Me: Yes. Do NOT come down here. There is nothing you can do.

Beth: Be careful?

Me: I promise. I hang up the phone and look at Tim

Tim: I have to piss.

Me: You are stuck in mud and in the river. Just piss!

Silence

Me: How you doing over there?

Tim: That warmed me up a little bit.

Both of us start cackling with stress induced laughter. We hear sirens.

Tim: Can you see them?

Me: Yep, they are pulling up on the overpass and looking for us. Cover your ears.

I use my booming voice and waving arms to get their attention. The police officer waves back at me and gets on his radio.

Me: They see us. It shouldn’t be long now!

Tim: Thank God, because I’m starting to freak out over here.

Me: Just don’t move and it’ll be fine. I look down and see a river otter (which I love) staring at me. I would swear on the Bible that he flicked me off. I look at the bridges and there are now six vehicles of various types including fire trucks, ambulances and police cars.

Me: Holy Shit.

Tim: What?

Me: Six trucks up there.

Tim: They must have sent everyone out.

Me: Nah, its Sunday morning at 10 AM. They’re bored as hell.

I look back up again and there are now seventeen vehicles.

Me: Ah, shit.

Tim: Now what?

Me: Seventeen trucks.

Tim: Sweet Jesus!

I hear another siren and look up. A yellow fire engine shows up.

Me: Get the fuck out of here.

Tim: More?

Me: The yellow fire truck is here. Great, they sent the little yellow school bus of fire trucks to help.

People are waving at us from the bridge. ‘They’re on their way!’ It took the fire department over forty five minutes to get a RIB (Rigid Inflatable Boat) to us.

Me: Here they come, I see them.

Tim: Finally.

Now let me tell you the rest of the story. Here they come up the river in a RIB boat that has NO draft meaning it sits on top of the water and these guys are poking around with oars trying to find shallows so they don’t foul the outboard. Why they didn’t have shallow water engine on this thing I have no clue but it took them another fifteen minutes to reach us.

Guy in boat: Can you move?

Me: snigger

Tim: Nope!

Guy in boat: Let me toss you a life ring. You hold on and we’ll pull you up to the boat.

They toss him the life ring and haul Tim up to the bow of the boat as I stand in the canoe up to almost my knees in water. See Picture.

Source Unknown

Guy in boat: What do you want us to do with the canoe?

Tim: Sink the bastard.

Me: Can you tow it in?

Guy in boat: We’ll try but if she starts going down we’ll have to let her go.

Me: Fine.

Nearly three hundred pounds of handsomeness stepped out of the canoe and it floated.

Me: They are going to be able to tow it in!!

They grab our gear and load it in the RIB boat and off we go down the water. Now I’ve ridden in a few RIB boats in my day including towing other stuff and look down to see that the man holding the tow line has it wrapped around his ankle.

Me: Dude, lift your foot!

Guy with rope: What for?

Me: Tow line is wrapped around your leg and will kill you.

Guy with rope: No it won’t.

Me: If that canoe goes down you are going down with it. If the line gets caught in the propeller, you are going over the side.

Guy in charge of boat: He’s right. Let him move it.

Me: I unwrap the line.

Rescued by Cheech & Chong, Abbot & Costello or better yet the Three Stooges. We survived needless to say. They got us to shore about two miles from the truck and put in. Tim tells the paramedics he needs a ride so they wrap him in a blanket and take him over to the truck but the best part happened as he was walking to the ambulance. The press show up.

Press: Sir, do you want to make a comment?

Tim: Not really.

Press: Are you sure?

Tim: Yep.

So we got a couple hospital blankets and a free ride in RIB boat for our experience plus exposure to the nasty ass Scioto River for our efforts. We made it home, Beth and Becky had hot coffee waiting for us as we smoked and calmed down from the event. The rest of the day was spent cleaning tackle, tackle bags, and the canoe which was then destined to never see the water with my rear end in it again.

Oh, remember I said that we had seen the river rescue crew practicing when we were researching the put in location? Same guys that rescued us.