October 27th, 2011
Published by: mooresb
fresh white pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, carefully unzipped the top of the pack, ripped open the wrapping paper and extracted a single cigarette. Then, in an action I had seen many times before, in one single motion he pressed the pack back into his shirt pocket and removed his Zippo lighter. Colin's first drag set the tip of the Export bright red in the darkness. Seeing it was lit, Colin rolled the cigarette into the left corner of his mouth and commenced to finish loading the boat.
saw Keith standing in water over his shoes motioning for Colin to pull open the motor cover. "Yew better start bailin'," Colin shouted at me, as he wrestled with the motor housing latch. I reached for the bait can at my feet, threw the remaining bait into the rough lake waters, and began to bail over the sides. No matter my motivation, my bailing efforts were no match for the wind driven water coming over the sides.
Just then the motor cover popped open and all I could hear was Keith and Colin hollering at It was cold that one another in the morning -- and winds. Even in all completely still as that confusion, we worked under Keith managed to the only light to kick the fish keeper be seen anywhere. bucket towards For the longest me. I tossed the time no one said fish over board and anything -- giving began to bail with Colin plenty of time the gallon-sized to size up his two bucket. I was so prize customers. busy bailing I didn't Then, he squinted notice the winds at us on the wooden suddenly stopped dock and ordered, as the squall line "You fellers better passed on to the get into the boat," east. Still the waves motioning toward lapped over the our fishing tackle, sides of our little " . . . Sun's gonna boat. be up by the time Fortunately, as the I get the motor squall line moved going . . ." away, the lake waters began to settle. We were still adrift and without power -but we were afloat. Even so, we would have our hands full keeping that way.
The Face of Fear When the thunderstorms moved overhead, the heavy rains began. Almost at once, rain was coming down in sheets. I was bailing as fast Keith and I boarded as I could, but the row boat and it was clear I stored our gear wasn't making any and tackle boxes. progress. In the Anybody who has back, Keith and fished small lakes Colin took turns has been in one of trying to pry the these row boats starting cord off at one time or the reel -- but to no another. The ones avail. The blowing used at Dawson's rain made it all were sturdy Cedar but impossible for shells with a small either of them to shelf on the bow, even get hold of the two mid-body, and slippery nylon cord one at the stern for -- so we remained the pilot. When powerless and we were finished adrift in the still stowing our gear, raging waters and Keith took the pelting rain. forward seat and I the one closer to the stern. There was plenty of room for three and all our gear. Before we were settled, Colin set the fuel tank into position on the floor behind me, and re-checked the motor mounts to make they were secure. Then, as he had no doubt done thousands of times before, Colin leaned over the fuel tank with his cigarette dangling from his mouth, pressed the fuel line into the fuel can receptacle, and lowered the motor into the lake.
Start rowing," I could hear Keith shouting at me." "Rowing?" I shouted in disbelief, "To
Fortunately, Colin's cigarette rarely, 3