Larry is one of my closest friends. He’s also been a friend longer than any of my other close friends. We have lunch together on a regular basis. We have many things in common, beginning with our modest beginnings in Franklin County. We also spent many early years in the same religious denomination, and our friendship has grown along with the divergence of our theological views. It has grown because Larry is one of the most humble and honest men that I know. I learn from him every time we sit down and share a meal.
Several years ago, around 40 years, to be more precise, Larry joined me on a fishing adventure. I had just purchased a junker boat that was probably not seaworthy, but we still wanted to try it out. After all, it only had a slight leak, and the old motor still had some life to it. So, with little concern, and a lot of optimism, we set out for the river.
We obviously didn’t check the weather forecast that day, or we would have known better. At least I’m assuming there were warnings of bad weather. It doesn’t matter now, and besides, if we hadn’t gone fishing that day, we wouldn’t have had one of our greatest experiences together.
We put the boat into the water at the Lock Six Boat Ramp, looking forward to a day of fun, good conversation, and the possibility of catching at least a few fish. We’re not particular about where we fish or what we catch. If it grabs our bait, that’s a successful endeavor.
The morning started out in a normal manner. We arrived at the launch ramp, and I backed the boat and trailer down and watched as Larry started the engine, guided the boat slowly off the trailer and eased back into the water far enough for me to pull away and park the trailer. I quickly joined him in the boat, and we were on our way.
We motored slowly from the launch upriver to Six Mile Creek, which is only a mile or two from the ramp. Still, averaging less than twenty miles per hour, it took a while to arrive at our destination. We had fished this small slough before, catching a lot of hybrid striped bass, and usually having a measure of success. We expected the same today. Our expectations were wrong.
We fished for two or three hours with little success. We cast our bait in every direction, in every nook and cranny of the small slough. When that didn’t’ work, we trolled. Still no luck. The fish were not biting. After a few hours, we ran out of things to talk about and decided to call it a day. Laying our gear carefully inside the boat, we revved the small engine and made our way back to the open river. That’s when we realized we were in trouble. That’s where this story really begins.
A slough such as the one we were fishing in can be deceptive. Sheltered by land and trees on three sides, it’s easy to become oblivious to anything going on other than the calm waters beneath the boat. The open river is different. Exposed to the weather, it can react angrily, and when there is wind, there will be waves. The presence of wind and waves while navigating a small aluminum boat is not a good thing.
We had two choices, we could return to the slough and wait out the storm, or we could make a run for the ramp and try to get out of the river before the weather turned even worse. We chose the latter.
The winds were brutal, pushing the small lightweight boat toward the rocky shore, even as the small engine tried to hold its own. Only by steering toward the center of the river were we able to make any progress downriver. We headed southwest as the wind pushed us north. But in small increments, we were able to make some progress. I don’t recall how long it took, but our fight against the angry billowing waves finally got us back to the ramp. Relieved, we pulled up to the side of the ramp closest to the river where I jumped out of the boat and made a run for the truck and trailer. Slowly backing down, I tried to position the trailer in a spot that would allow Larry to nudge the boat to its natural resting place.
In the meantime, Larry had been fighting the wind and waves which were determined to crash both him and the boat into the concrete launch area. Only by easing backwards time and time again was he able to hold his position.
That all changed suddenly.
As I backed the trailer down the ramp, Larry eased the boat further back into the water to allow room for me to submerge the trailer so that he could guide the boat onto it. That’s how it’s done. Normally. But, as Larry put the engine in reverse, the worst thing that could happen did happen. The back of the boat tilted slightly downward, as one would expect. What one would not expect was the huge wave that came crashing in, filling the boat with water, and taking it down. We were helpless. I still can see the expression on Captain Larry’s face as he went down with the ship. It was not one of panic or fear. The water was not deep enough to be that dangerous. Also, Larry was wearing a safety vest. It was more a look of resignation that the boat, the tackle boxes and the rods and reels were going under, and so was he. And there was nothing that either of us could do about it.
The boat sank in an instant. I jumped from the truck and waded in. We both grabbed the boat, attempting to guide it toward the trailer. It was useless. But then, another fisherman saw our dilemma and rushed to assist.
“You guys should have used the other side of the ramp. It’s shielded from the river,” he said. While he was right, we really weren’t in the mood for advice. Obviously being a smarter fisherman than either Larry or I, he calmly detached the engine which allowed us to move the boat onto the trailer. Once the boat was clear of the waves, the three of us were able to pull the engine from the water and reattach it to the boat. Larry also grabbed a couple of rods and the tackle boxes, which had remained afloat.
Out of breath, but safely out of the water, we were able to laugh at our misfortune. We took inventory of our boat and gear. To my chagrin, Larry’s new rod and reel were missing, submerged in the water near the launch. We searched for a while, but in vain, finally giving up the hunt. Beaten and cold, but not defeated, we thanked our rescuer, and made our way home, boat and engine now intact.
But I was distraught. Larry’s rod and reel were new, and they were not cheap. He took it well and left for home. Shortly after he left my driveway, I had a brainstorm. I grabbed my rod, a couple of large treble hooks, and headed back for the ramp. As I drove, I prayed this simple prayer. “Lord, if you will let me find Larry’s rod and reel, I won’t care about the one I lost.” That’s it. A simple request. I’m not sure it was accompanied by a lot of faith, but I prayed it anyway.
Back at the launch, everyone had gone and the water had calmed. Still praying that simple prayer, I cast the treble hook into the general area of where we had sunk. As I slowly reeled in, I felt something grab. There was resistance. “Great,” I thought. “Now I’m hung up.” Then I saw a gold flash! Could it be? I reeled faster and saw it again.
You guessed it. It was Larry’s gold colored reel, still attached to the rod. I was ecstatic. “Thank you, Lord!” I said aloud. Almost in tears, I pulled the rod and reel from the water and carried it back to my truck. I was now on a mission. If it were this easy, I’d get my missing rod as well. So, I cast that large treble hook back into the water, now murky from the storm. No success. I cast out again. And again. And again. And again. You get the picture. You know the rest of the story. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. I tried for over an hour to hook the missing rod. I tried for over an hour in vain. Finally, I surrendered and loaded up for home.
On my drive back to my house, one rod richer than when I started this mission, but one rod poorer than I had started the day, I contemplated the events of the past few hours. And I remembered my prayer. God had given me exactly what I had asked for. When I realized that, my first thought was that I should have asked for more. But then I realized that God had guided my thoughts toward my friend’s loss, and not my own. So, I had to smile and again say, “Thank you, Lord.”
I’ll close the story by saying the next morning after church, I asked Larry to follow me to my car. When I opened the trunk and showed him his rod and reel, he was certain that I had bought a replacement for him. It took a while to convince him. Only by seeing a small scratch that he recognized did he believe that it was his.
There’s a lesson here. I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it has to do with specific prayer. Maybe it has to do with fishing in stormy weather. Maybe it has to do with all the above. I’m not sure I have the answer. But I am sure that forty years later, I remember this day like it was yesterday. And it reminds me that I have a friend who has stuck with me for all those forty plus years. And that’s what I would call a great catch.
Happy fishing, but please stay out of the storms.