Fishing Disaster- second installment from my poor memory
For our first anniversary four years ago, New Daddy and I headed up to North Georgia for a few days of bed-and-breakfasting and fishing. I think those might have been the days when I thought that I could still be a decent fishing buddy for my dear husband. Those days are no more. I now stay at home and take care of children while he galivants with Real fishermen. When he goes.
That spring, we had purchased our first kayak, a little blue Mainstream Jazz from Bass Pro-- a place that Precious can now identify the logo of with no problem. Lake Tugalo is a beautiful, secluded, mountain lake with good fly fishing for blue gill. Unfortunately, the Georgia side is only accessible via a gated (no cars to tote your gear), gravel road that goes up the mountain a couple hundred yards. We weren't up to toting the gravy boat up this road, so we settled for New Daddy in his float tube and flippers, and me in the kayak. I had either a book or a rod-- maybe both. I can't remember. There was no one on the lake, since it was the middle of the week and the middle of the day.
All was well on my end of things until New Daddy developed a plot to increase his efficiency. The flippers just weren't sufficient with a whole lake to cover. He asked me to paddle him in his inner tube-esque float tube from my lofty kayak. He grabbed the rear carrying handle, and I gave it my most sincere effort. After about three minutes of paddling, I could almost see the shoreline slipping in front of us. Of course I knew before we began that this could amount to nothing; but, I played along until he either felt sorry for me or realized that we weren't going anywhere.
He abandoned the idea, and we parted ways. I went to count waterfalls, and he followed a looooong way behind me, and caught lots of fish. Out of the sixteen falls on the lake, I think I got to five of them-- a decent amount, I thought.
Obviously, this event ranks far below "disaster" status. Especially considering the time that the motor fell off the back of a rented boat, and he pulled it out of the water by the gas line. Or the time that the boat fell completely OFF the trailer on a busy highway. Okay, enough of that; suffice it to say, there are some real disasters in the files.
Still, it was a relief to finally sell the infamous float tube via Craigslist a couple of months ago. This Tugalo trip was the last time New Daddy used it. Since then, it had been occupying a perfectly good rafter in our garage. Personally, I'm glad to have it out of my sight. I kind of think New Daddy is, too.
For our first anniversary four years ago, New Daddy and I headed up to North Georgia for a few days of bed-and-breakfasting and fishing. I think those might have been the days when I thought that I could still be a decent fishing buddy for my dear husband. Those days are no more. I now stay at home and take care of children while he galivants with Real fishermen. When he goes.
That spring, we had purchased our first kayak, a little blue Mainstream Jazz from Bass Pro-- a place that Precious can now identify the logo of with no problem. Lake Tugalo is a beautiful, secluded, mountain lake with good fly fishing for blue gill. Unfortunately, the Georgia side is only accessible via a gated (no cars to tote your gear), gravel road that goes up the mountain a couple hundred yards. We weren't up to toting the gravy boat up this road, so we settled for New Daddy in his float tube and flippers, and me in the kayak. I had either a book or a rod-- maybe both. I can't remember. There was no one on the lake, since it was the middle of the week and the middle of the day.
All was well on my end of things until New Daddy developed a plot to increase his efficiency. The flippers just weren't sufficient with a whole lake to cover. He asked me to paddle him in his inner tube-esque float tube from my lofty kayak. He grabbed the rear carrying handle, and I gave it my most sincere effort. After about three minutes of paddling, I could almost see the shoreline slipping in front of us. Of course I knew before we began that this could amount to nothing; but, I played along until he either felt sorry for me or realized that we weren't going anywhere.
He abandoned the idea, and we parted ways. I went to count waterfalls, and he followed a looooong way behind me, and caught lots of fish. Out of the sixteen falls on the lake, I think I got to five of them-- a decent amount, I thought.
Obviously, this event ranks far below "disaster" status. Especially considering the time that the motor fell off the back of a rented boat, and he pulled it out of the water by the gas line. Or the time that the boat fell completely OFF the trailer on a busy highway. Okay, enough of that; suffice it to say, there are some real disasters in the files.
Still, it was a relief to finally sell the infamous float tube via Craigslist a couple of months ago. This Tugalo trip was the last time New Daddy used it. Since then, it had been occupying a perfectly good rafter in our garage. Personally, I'm glad to have it out of my sight. I kind of think New Daddy is, too.
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