Piss, Puke and Flat Water Rescue
Laying down a cast, I heard my buddy straining to hold his three year old daughter over the gunwale. She had to pee. Bad. Most of the urine made it to the water. Some splashed on cold beers that had been placed nearby. My friend had had enough time to remove the beers from the cooler, but not enough time to open them, or put them in a more permanent location. No harm, no foul. We kept fishing.
We were staying at a lake house with friends for the weekend. Chocked full of fat rainbows, much of the focus for those with a Y chromosome fell squarely on the water. In order to make the venture tolerable for those without the Y chromosome, we packed the drift boat full of kids every time we headed out.
Opening the garage door, that first night, I headed into the house after dark. Caddis had started to come off late in the evening and the wind had died down long enough for us to connect with several nice fish. It was exactly what we had hoped for. But now florescent lights illuminated small bits of plastic and a large empty bin on the floor. My labs had opened the food bin of our friends’, apparently better mannered lab, and a month’s worth of food had vanished. Par for the course I figured.
We were ready the next morning. Pancakes eaten, teeth brushed, sunscreen applied, the whole gang charged down to the water, with an enthusiasm that only comes in the morning. We launched kayaks, an inflatable couch, and the drift boat to serve as the mother ship. The enthusiasm shortly waned and before long four kids, three labs and two grown men occupied the skiff, while our wives headed to shore.
The day’s growing breeze was no match for our loud parade of laughter, tears, and nearly every human emotion in between. Then one of the kids then grabbed my attention. Amidst the ruckus and with no sound at all, a half month’s worth of (lightly used) missing kibble had reappeared. I cleaned up the mess, with a bucket, sponge and minimal fanfare. Ten minutes later it happened again. After that one of dogs jumped ship and swam for shore where he could further take care of business. With the occasional streamer getting eaten, we continued on.
Another good night’s rest under our belt and we made what promised to be the final voyage for the weekend. With only the two younger kids aboard, we were happy to have a lighter load. The water was calm and the sun was making for a gorgeous day. I was scanning for cruising fish, when my peripheral vision caught my son toppling over the edge of the boat. He had been sitting two feet from me. I’m still uncertain as to how he pulled off the maneuver. Given the amount of time we’ve spent on the water I was honestly surprised this hadn’t happened years ago. Given that it happened on flat calm water made it comical.
In one swift move I grabbed the back of his lifejacket and hauled my water logged son into the boat. He cried with fear, but slowly regrouped once he realized a good scare would be the extent of the damage.
The weekend came to an end without further fireworks, and we talked about doing it again sometime. Given the fishing I agreed.