Mr. Cool

***My 99 cent e-book special is still on until Monday, April 1. Please find it on the post before this one, called Easter Special. Be sure to look there for the coupon code. You need it to get the discount.

And now, for an embarrassing fishing story.

This little article I wrote was published in Canadian Fly Fisher magazine a few years ago and was posted on this blog in 2011. For the record, the trout pictured below is not the one in the story. This one was released after its photo op.

IMGP3392

Mr. Cool Goes Fishing

I now believe that lawn chairs should come with a warning label: “Not recommended for use by fools in small boats.”  My cold splash of reality came on a sunny day.

Gary and I love fly fishing, but two people standing in a small boat isn’t safe. However, it isn’t particularly comfortable sitting on cold aluminum seats either. To please me, Gary came up with a solution. He would put lawn chairs in the boat so they straddled the bench seats. We knew it was a bit risky placing our centers of gravity up so high, but we were old hands at boating and decided we would be safe enough fishing for trout on the calm, reedy edges of one of our local lakes.

The day was perfect for shorts and T-shirts. We had brought a picnic lunch in our cooler bag, a thermos of tea, cell phone, and the usual clutter of fishing tackle. We cast towards the lily pads.  In no time, Gary had hooked a trout. I offered to net it and wisely, I thought, slid down off the lawn chair to gain more stability. Net in hand, I dipped for the fish, but it darted under the boat. Gary, still up in his chair, leaned over to see where it went, and that was the end of our lawn-chair fishing.

Over I went, head first into the lily pads. I kicked away the entangling lawn chair that threatened my demise. Lily pads! As I floundered underwater thrashing through their long stems, my mind flashed to the story of a woman who had drowned in lily pads at Swan Lake when I was a child. Determined not to repeat history, I kicked and fought my way to the surface, inhaling water and belching. Madly treading water, I gulped for air.

Several meters away, Gary shook his head in slow motion and I blushed to realize how unimpressive my plunge was from the point of view of a perfect swimmer. I grabbed sinking articles near to me and tossed them into the half-sunken boat wallowing nearby—cooler bag, thermos, tackle box, my fly rod, even the old life jacket I had been sitting on instead of wearing, and of course, the accursed lawn chair.

I glanced over at Gary, bobbing calmly in the lake, scowling at me.  Mr. Cool. His entry into the water, like that of an Olympic diver, had been almost soundless with barely a ripple. His frown suggested that I had been making quite a fuss and had attracted unwanted attention.

Two men who had been spincasting farther out on the lake, reeled in frantically. “We’ll be right over,” they called.

“That’s okay,” Gary yelled back. “We can stand.”

“We… can?” I spluttered.  It hadn’t occurred to me to try to stand. My toes stretched down into the gooey silt, and my mouth went under. Being a couple of inches taller, like Gary, would definitely have been an advantage.

By this time the spincasters had paddled over. They held the side of our half-sunken boat as I scrambled in as gracefully as a calf moose. I began to bail water double time to keep the boat afloat. Gary, who had been steadying the bow of the boat, waited until there was enough freeboard and then hopped in easily. We thanked the men, sheepishly chuckling about the story they would tell their wives that night.

As we took inventory, Gary netted his trout, still hooked after all the commotion, while I wondered which fish was swimming away wearing my expensive Serengeti sunglasses.

20 thoughts on “Mr. Cool

    • Oh, it was upsetting losing those sunglasses. I paid so much for them and there was no insurance coverage on that kind of loss. The deductible would have been as much as the glasses cost. I hope the fish enjoyed his prestige with his “cool” glasses.

      Like

  1. I bet the two guys spincasting nearby thought it was hilarious. And I have to say, Gary was reluctant to do the lawn chair thing, but I pushed him to it because the aluminum benches in the skiff are so uncomfortable and cold. I sure got a huge helping of crow-flavoured humble pie that day.

    Like

  2. Anneli.. sorry but I’m killing myself laughing.. I can picture the whole incident… your fault though you describe it so well in your writing that the pictures just form in ones head… I can picture the thoughts as well .. the silent curses, the embarrassment, the laughs of others… I do apologise but I would loved to have been in the area just to witness it… (still laughing with Linda looking oddly at me)

    Like

      • I laugh because it reminds me of an occasion I decided to clear a trout dam of oxygen weed that made fishing almost impossible.. all I had was a canoe and decided if I could row out to the middle with the spray pack on my back I could work from the center outwards in passages… Linda told me not to do it as I would tip over… I ignored her opinion and took to the water with a 20 kg pack on my back… needless to say she was right.. the minute I tried to pump the backpack to get pressure it rolled over, the 20 kg extra weight took me well under the water before I could get it off… needless to say I arrived at the surface with my head and body covered in oxygen weed… Linda and the kids could not help due to their being doubled over with laughter… so you’re not alone.. one of those embarrassing moments that others enjoyed… I must say it was the middle winter as well which didn’t exactly make the water very warm…

        Like

  3. Oh, do I ever love this story! I won´t comment on the lawn chairs. A little cushion would have done the trick. But then we couldn´t read about this “funny” accident.

    Like

    • I should have thought of a cushion…. But isn’t that what the lifejacket was for? To sit on? (That was in the days of the big clunky lifejackets, though. Now we have nice, lightweight lifejackets that we actually wear!)

      Like

  4. Oh my, now that’s a fish story! I’ll have to make a mental note to myself not to use lawn chairs in a small boat. 🙂
    It’s good that Gary was still able to net the trout, but sorry to hear about the sunglasses. I’m sure you made some fish very happy though.

    Like

    • If the bottom of the lake hadn’t been so silty, I would have jumped in again and looked for the glasses, but they would have sunk right into the soft stuff. Unless a fish really did swim away with them. Anything is possible!

      Like

    • Well, I’m sure you’re not foolish enough to let anyone persuade you to put lawn chairs in the boat. Wear your life jacket. Don’t sit on it like I did. I don’t know how I managed to get so old with all the dumb things I’ve done.

      Like

  5. Ha, that’s funny, although I’m guessing it didn’t feel too funny when you were in the midst of the experience. Was the water cold? BTW, my husband’s name is Gary too.

    Like

    • It was a warm day and we were near the edge of the lake so it was warm, but it was a shock to be in the water all tangled in the lawn chair. I had a few seconds of panic and felt really stupid. Thanks for visiting my blog. Nice to meet another Mrs. “Gary.”

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s