Float my boat — please!
Join me on a possibly epic fishing adventure — if I can only get into the boat
It took all summer, but I finally got my boat out and went fishing last weekend.
Before I tell the epic fishing story, I should probably clarify a few things.
One, when I say boat, I do not mean a sleek fibreglass vessel with a huge motor on the back and Bob Izumi at the wheel.
No, what I’m talking about is a secondhand, fake Zodiac style boat that is essentially a large white air mattress with oars. On the positive side, it also leaks.
This means that before going out, I have to hand pump the boat up so that I don’t head out onto Lake Erie on what is essentially a soggy bean bag.
Once I get it inflated, I then have to drag it into the water. This kind of boat is actually designed so that the average fit man can easily lift it up. Unfortunately, there’s no one like that around here.
So, I huff and puff and pull and tug and eventually I successfully call one of my sons to come down and get the bloody thing in the water.
Once on the lake with the sunshine streaming down on me, I’m totally ready to — get out of the boat and come back to shore for the motor.
The motor, which came with the boat, is a super powerful four horsepower engine which at top speed can propel the boat faster than an old person can swim.
I know because I’ve swum beside the boat and almost won.
After I clamp the motor on, I have to get back into the boat. This may sound easy, but when you are standing in waist-deep water, heaving yourself into an inflatable boat is a lot like trying to get into a half-full water bed — when it’s on the top bunk.
It’s hard to describe what this move looks like. Imagine a 60-year-old man doing the Fosbury Flop onto a sofa. Then put the man in an ill-fitting bathing suit.
Add several margaritas. Not for me, for you. You’ll need them after a sight like that.
Once I’m ready to go, I realize I have left the worms in the fridge back in the cottage and so I have to get out of the boat, run-up the stairs, come back down and repeat getting into the boat.
This is relatively easy and after flopping around in the bottom of the boat for a halfhour catching my breath, I’m all set to head out into open water.
Of course, that requires actually starting the motor. I only pull the cord about 85 times before I realize that the small toggle on the side of the motor needs to be in the “on” position for the gas to flow.
The fact that it has a symbol of a gas tank on it is probably a large hint to those who are mechanically inclined or conscious. Anyway, I turn said switch and this time only pull the cord about 55 times before the engine roars to life. Well, at four horsepower, it actually sort of “murmurs quietly” to life and off we go at what can only described as a dizzying clip, if you were used to dog paddling in a kiddie pool.
Once I get out into deeper water, I toss my line in.
Amazingly, I start to get a few bites. Usually, I sit out there for several hours and the only thing biting are the flies. (In fact, they are also biting, having joined me in the boat for the ride.)
Anyway, for about 30 minutes I’m basically feeding worms to what I presume to be the dreaded Goby fish. (For non-anglers The Goby fish is a slimy, bulgy-eyed invasive species from Russia, a bit like Peter Lorre with fins.)
Then, suddenly, I set my hook and … I have a good size fish on! I play it out and manage somehow to get it into the boat. It’s a really nice size bass and out there in the late afternoon, cool breeze, I am happy.
Now I just have to get back to shore and figure out how to get out of the boat.
I may ask the fish for help.
I realize that the small toggle on the side of the motor needs to be in the “on” position for the gas to flow.