Keeping it reel out on the lake

ON FRIDAY I DECIDED to take my tin boat to a local lake for a bit of bass fishing. It was a hurried, last-minute decision based on two things: first, I could finally see blue sky and, second, the alternative was mowing the lawn.

When these factors converge, you cannot go fishing fast enough. So I hitched up the boat and trailer, ran in and grabbed my fly fishing kit that sits by the door. Then I drove off to a lake 20 minutes or so from my front lawn.

I was apprehensive because I tried the same thing last week only to discover that my trailer tire flew off the rim the minute I moved. Even now, I shudder to think of what might have happened.

Luckily, I didn’t mow the lawn that day, but it was a very near thing.

Between then and now, I repaired the tire and bought a spare, so that I will never find myself in that horrible predicament again.

That leads to Friday. I was excited to get out in my little 12-foot tin boat. You see, though I have fished a fair bit this year, most has been river fishing or from my canoe. My tin boat and little 4-horse had not been used since duck season.

For those who have never experienced it, let me point out every tin boat owner feels uncertainty when launching their little version of the Titanic for the first time each season.

You go over the checklist of things that might go wrong. The trailer tire might get a flat. Bearings might seize. The wiring harness might suddenly stop working. The hitch might fall off. The transom and motor might detach from the boat after hitting a pothole. You might jackknife at the boat launch in front of dozens of witnesses. You might forget to put in the plug and sink your boat at the launch. The boat might leak. The motor might not start. The oars might break because of the proximity to a tree. Or all of the above.

Otherwise, this is relaxing.

I’m happy to report that none of those things occurred and the launch was a textbook example of what happens when there is not one witness in sight. I backed my trailer perfectly and without incident down a long nar- row ramp and stopped within inches of where I needed to on the first attempt. I then remembered to unplug my trailer lights and put the plug in the boat before launching. The rope I tied from the boat’s prow to the trailer paid out nicely as I backed the boat in and floated it. And when I drove forward I towed the boat gently to shore.

Things couldn’t have gone smoother.

The motor started first pull. I loaded my gear in the boat. There were no signs of leaks. There were no mosquitoes or deer flies.

I decided to give the motor a work out to ensure I could trust it to take me further from the launch.

I ran it at low throttle. Then I gunned it up and down the lake. I stopped and restarted several times, just to ensure that there were no gremlins to ruin my day of fishing.

After 20 minutes of that, I didn’t have a worry in the world.

That’s when I got my fly rod out of the case, pulled out a fly box and chose a killer fly. Then I assembled the rod – and realized I left my reel at home.