The weather was terrible. Horrid. Putrid. Miserable. Virulent.
Did I say the weather was bad?
That guy kept sitting there in his boat, casting as if there were no tomorrow,
as well there might not be for him.
Early morning fog eerily shrouded the entire lake. On those rare occasions
one could see fifty yards away, one would celebrate the opening. The openings
always closed quickly.
The weather was terrible. Horrid. Putrid. Miserable. Virulent.
Did I say the weather was bad?
That guy kept sitting there in his boat, casting as if there were no tomorrow,
as well there might not be for him.
Early morning fog eerily shrouded the entire lake. On those rare occasions
one could see fifty yards away, one would celebrate the opening. The openings
always closed quickly.
The shoreline was nothing more than a dim outline. The defining outline of
trees blurred into indefinite shapes. No one should be outside this day, much
less on a lake.
Then came the rain. Starting as a heavy mist, the precipitation gradually became
a light shower. The size of the water droplets became larger and the shower
became a light rain.
The wind began to blow. Stronger and stronger it became. The wind drove the
lake water into whitecaps. The waves moved any floating object – including
boats – higher and higher, lower and lower, more and more rapidly.
Heavy clouds hid the midday sun.
The guy in the boat held his ground.
Then the wind began changing directions of origin. From the south, they moved
from the north.
The rain was solid now. The guys boat would have to have strong bilge
pumps to keep from having an inch or two of water in it.
Along with the changing direction of the wind came a change in the airs
temperature. The temperature started in the forties, and only moved lower. Fahrenheit
or Celsius, it was cold. Real cold. The temperature made the raindrops feel
like ice cubes.
Did I mention the weather was bad?
The guy held his ground and kept chunking baits. What courage. What commitment.
What dedication. What stupidity.
The winds grew stronger. The fog resisted any urge to dissipate. The intensity
of the rain increased. The temperature dropped lower.
The guy held his ground.
What kind of fishing enthusiast would stay on a lake in weather such as this?
What kind of person would keep at it to face such elements when the fish were
not even biting? The guy needs his noggin examined. He is still there, and the
day is almost over.
He was still sitting there as we started our boat and pulled around him to
head toward the landing. We had watched him from our boat for hours, and he
was still there when we went to supper. What kind of nut is he? Im glad
we had the sense to quit in time for supper.
Amazing, isnt it, when someone else does something, they are nuts. When
we do it, we are committed. People will sit in terrible weather to watch a football
game and call themselves dedicated fans. A person goes to church in the rain
and they are called silly. What a world.
I wonder if that guy caught anything. I didnt.