Another first!

 Can you see something missing from this jig? Yes, that is my blood.

Does this guy look like a surgeon?

He is sorta. His surgical tools include a rusty wire cutters and a band aid. Today Paul's medical skills were tested as he helped extract a barbed hook from my finger.

Today was a great day for fishing. The temperature was in the low 60's and it was cloudy with no wind. After multiple weeks of 90+ degrees,  Evergreen Lake had finally cooled. The parking lot was full of trailers as many also found the weather perfect.

We launched the boat ok, but Paul got cut off by another boat launching when he tried to pick me up. After several tries he finally got close enough for me to step into the boat. We both decided to fish with white twister tail jigs like the one above. We caught fish on our  first stop along the rip rap by the power lines. Paul pulled a nice bass from under  a tree and a minute later I caught its brother. I snagged a downed branch on the next  cast, but easily got it off, but this was a warning of things to come.

We caught a few snags but always got off. Paul landed a couple more bass, and I caught a drum as we stayed in the area by the tree. When things slowed we moved a short distance and continued to cast toward the rip rap and trees. I snagged another under water limb and brought back to the boat. With a taunt line and bent rod, I reached down to grab the limb when the jig decided it no longer wanted to be connected to the tree limb. It decided instead to bury itself into my finger. The full barb of the hook was inside my finger. Usually a slight twist of the jig will loosen a hook when in a fish. That didn't work with my finger.

After multiple attempts to get it out of my finger, surgeon Paul said I needed to push the barb of the hook out. This meant painfully making a new hole in my finger. Slowly I turned the jig and very slowly began to push the barb out along with much blood. Paul picked up his rusty old wire cutters and snapped the hook off off the jig. I then pulled the remainder of the hook through the hole where the barb emerged. Ouch!

Paul had equipped his boat with a first aid kit so he dug out a band aid and antiseptic ointment. He put the band aid tightly over the wound and stopped the bleeding. We decided I needed to go to urgent care, but we didn't have internet access to see if there was one close. Fortunately I could text so I texted Connie and she texted back the closest was in Normal. 

It didn't feel too  bad so we elected to keep fishing. We were fishing with nightcrawlers so everything was covered with worm mud.  After about a half hour, the wound began to throb so we decided to go in. The urgent care wasn't too busy so I saw an APN after a short wait. She checked my records and saw I had an up to date Tetanus vaccine so I didn't need anything but a new band aid. She prescribed a short course of antibiotic to be sure I didn't get an infection. After all I was pretty dirty.

I am thinking about organizing my blog into those things that have never happened  before. It seems we always create new ways to cause near disaster. 

Is there a spirit hiding in my garage?

 I was driving my new truck to pick up Paul and his boat for our first trip of the year. I should have felt the presence of my old nemesis when Don called to say he couldn't go fishing with Paul and me. The three of us can have more adventures on the water than I can count.  It's late June but I have been in Texas all spring so this was our first opportunity to go fishing. Strange that Don couldn't go.

The next strange event occurred when the fuel pump wouldn't let Paul buy gas. Strange but not scary. When we got to the boat ramp I discovered I had completely lost my ability to back up a trailer. I snaked back and forth and could not go straight. After a winter off from fishing, I used to go practice in a parking lot with my boat before taking it to a lake. I couldn't do that and it really showed. Fortunately the lake was not busy so I had time. The new truck has a quad cab which is longer and I can't see over my shoulder. I still suck at using my mirrors so all this combined to a long time trying to get in the water.

Then Paul couldn't start the motor. Multiple tries checking all connections, fuel etc. didn't work. We had to pull out of the water to assess the problem. It was the fuel line which had not pumped up when the fuel bulb was squeezed. Holding the bulb vertically got it pumped and started. Strange that a lifetime of starting boat motors hadn't led us to think of that.

Once we finally launched we had no luck. We fished areas we had not fished for years and could not locate anything. This was not strange as it is pretty typical for us. We decided to motor to the other end of the lake to our usual coves. The long boat ride gave me a chance to again see how scenic Evergreen Lake is as I watched an osprey skim over the water. It is my go to happy place in spite of the really bad things that have happened there. After the rough start I relaxed, things were going well...

We arrived at our best fishing cove to find it blocked by a downed tree. A huge white oak laid across the width of the whole cove blocking access to the best area for saugeyes. Strange, this has never happened before. After  no luck we decided to try to slip through a narrow gap to get around the fallen tree. Fortunately nothing bad happened, but we caught nothing. We moved to another cove.

Moving to another cove, I finally hooked a bass. She wasn't huge, but Paul is good at framing photos.

This was the end of caught fish. I had a large fish (muskie?) follow my spinner bait, but I quickly snagged and then lost the lure. After a nice day we decided to go in so headed all the way back across the lake. We carefully approached the dock and looped a rope over the dock to keep the boat from moving. I didn't want to fall in as I had last year.

As I got the truck and trailer, Paul pulled away. We were using the small 9 hp motor required on Evergreen Lake. The larger 40hp motor can only be used to load the boat, but Paul wanted to use the smaller motor(that wouldn't start initially) that we used all day .This required the trailer to be further into the water. 

My backing trouble escalated. Without the boat I cannot see the trailer. I dropped the tailgate but the bed of my new truck is higher so I can't see the trailer over my shoulder. I can only see the trailer in my mirrors and only when it is crooked. I guessed where it was. I was wrong over and over and over. A guy who had just come in offered to help guide me. I kept getting it wrong. At least 10 tries up and back and I finally got in the water, but sideways. Paul drove up but had me pull out to straighten up and he went back to circling. When I finally had the trailer sort of straight and deep enough I waited, but Paul was just sitting. The guy helping yelled to Paul and Paul said he couldn't get the motor out of neutral. (Strange this had never happened) He eventually switched fuel lines to the big motor but this took a long time. After more than 30 minutes Paul drove the boat onto the trailer.

As we staged the boat for driving home, I started to put the motor supports on the motors. I looked at the motor that was "stuck in neutral" and saw this.

The threaded rod (bronze colored) is missing something, THE PROPELLER! This has never happened before. Paul thought it was in neutral because it wouldn't go forward or backward. It couldn't because it didn't have a prop.

Figuring it had just fallen off we decided wading around trying to find it was dangerous so we headed home. Trying to back into Paul's garage was another adventure in incompetence as I blocked his street for several minutes backing up cars trying to get through. Paul's going to add white pipes to the boat trailer so I can see it, maybe that will help.

It was then that I thought maybe there  was something influencing our luck. Something that always made our trips difficult . Something cursed that had lived in my garage for almost 25 years and now lives in Texas in my garage down there.

The spirit of Cecelia...

or could it just be we are around 80 year old uncoordinated guys who enjoy each others company but are just bad at fishing and boating? 

It's Cecelia Y'all

 My former boat, Cecelia, is now a Texan. Scott is her owner and I shouldn't have anything to do with her...except I do. Scott invited me to go fishing with him  today and it was his first shake down of his boat. Cecelia, true to her nature, found ways to "break his heart and shake his confidence".

We left this morning before sunrise and the temperature was 58 degrees. Scott picked me up and we headed north to the Guadalupe River. The river passes under I35 at New Braunfels and this is where we have put in before. Some  15 years or more ago  the dam in New Braunfels failed and Lake McQeeny became the shallow riverbed of the Guadalupe. This is where we began to kayak several years ago. Motor boats couldn't float on the shallow river.

The dam was repaired last year and now there is so much boat traffic (as in water skiers and big bass boats) that its dangerous to kayak. As we drove up the interstate I started asking Scott questions about his preparation for the trip. There are so many things to prepare a boat before going out it is easy to miss some. He actually had done pretty well except he hadn't check the 2 cycle oil or charged the batteries.

We launched off the ramp where we have launched kayaks, but there are no docks to tie to. Cecelia sensed these items as places to start mischief. I was in the boat to back away from the ramp...except Cecelia wouldn't start. The ignition key just clicked. Nothing more. So Cecelia floated back since she wasn't tied to anything. We drifted back into the river current and slowly started going down stream.

Fortunately I knew what to do. (Cecelia has taught me lessons the hard way). I dug through the rod locker for the paddle I keep on the bottom of the rod locker.. unfortunately I had placed many extra fishing rods in there when we left Bloomington because I had many more than I would ever use. Scott was helpless on the ramp, but he did follow me downstream. I was fortunate to paddle close to two large trees and Scott told me to throw him a rope. He wrapped the rope around the tree while I tried to figure out why she wouldn't even turn over. Scott suggested the battery might be dead, even though the power lift and depth finder were working, although the depth finder kept shutting off. I checked the battery gauge and it was indeed dead.

So although Cecelia tried to ruin our day, I remembered something I tried the first time Robert and I went out on Lake Bloomington back in 2003. The trolling motor battery was charged. I took the key to open the storage locker and dug out two battery cables. After fighting with the nuts holding the starting motor to its's battery using a channel lock, I was able to connect the trolling motor battery to the  starting motor battery in series. Cecelia started after pumping the fuel bulb. Scott got in as I pulled up to the ramp and we were on the way.

Ha, take that Cecelia!...except she wasn't done.

Scott put Cecelia in gear and we slowly traveled through the no wake zone. We encountered some kayaks and he was careful to avoid swamping them as we drove along. Finally we reached a deeper part of the river and Scott opened her up. Cecelia had not run that fast for more than 15 years.

The battery meters for both batteries read completely full as the gas motor put charge through the connection. Still I was concerned we would not be able to restart if we stopped the gas motor so decided to not use the trolling motor when we stopped to fish. Cecelia saw this as an opportunity.

A couple of miles down river we stopped to fish, but kept the gas motor on idle. During this time Scott hooked a nice bass. 

As we putted along suddenly Cecelia let out a whistle and the gas motor stopped. She refused to restart. I thought she was out of 2 cycle oil since Scott hadn't check the level. (Remember he is just learning about her evil ways). After struggling to get the motor cowling to unlatch I pulled the cowling off, only to see something red fall in the water and sink out of site. The red object resembled a fuse as it drifted to oblivion. I figured Cecelia had just dropped an important component. The 2 cycle oil level was fine so we retried starting her, but she wouldn't budge.

I did note that the cowling was very hot. Scott thought she might have over heated. After several tries at restarting we decided to wait her out. Since we had plenty of battery charge, I maneuvered around with the trolling motor. I caught a bass but couldn't get it in the boat.

As the Texas sun got higher in the sky, we peeled off layers. By the time we decided to restart Cecelia the temperature was in the upper 70's on its way to 90.

Fortunately we finished fishing and restarted the old girl and we flew up the river  (slowing down for kayaks). We reloaded Cecelia on the trailer and thought we had a successful trip....except she decided to call the highway patrol to turn I 35 into a parking lot as they blocked two lanes to clear a 4 car accident.  Maybe it wasn't Cecelia's mischief, but it certainly is in character. A one hour trip home turned into two hours.

Scott and I got home in time to turn around and attend the last high school football game for Emily's high school. The team is so bad that another bad team scored 20 points on them by half time. It's November 8, but it's Texas, so the day that started at 58 almost reached 90 by the half. 

We left the game early.  Fortunately I had a battery charger to loan to Scott.

My last voyage as owner of Cecelia

 A voyage doesn't have to be at sea. It can be a long journey (you can look it up) and this last voyage was very long  (1200 miles). 

Readers may recall Cecelia was named for " ...shakin my confidence daily..."  Cecelia stayed true  to the very end. I got her all ready for our last voyage together by mostly filling her with items that were making a one way trip to Texas. Yes, my boat became a wedge shaped UHaul!

Loaded and ready to go with new tires, a repaired hitch and one less motor I thought I was well prepared, but Cecelia always tests me. 

Scott flew in from San Antonio and we left early Saturday morning. Less than a mile south of Springfield IL, a semi immediately in front of us exploded an outside tire. The sound was defending and we were showered with flying chunks of rubber. We stopped but saw no apparent damage to my truck or the old girl. This wasn't Cecilia's fault or was it??

When we stopped for gas I noticed the license plate was nearly broken off. The support plate behind it was shattered. Cecelia has shed multiple license plates in the lake but never tried to rip one off on dry land. 

Day 2 started ok, until south of Dallas Scott noticed Cecelia's cover was ballooning up like it was taking off. We discovered she had ripped a hole in the cover. We had to buy some duct tape to make a temporary patch. Scott also doubled all the bungees holding the cover to keep it from reinflating.

We finally made it to San Antonio to her next (hopefully not final) resting place.  It took multiple tries but we finally got her in the spot Scott cleared for her. I handed him the paperwork which officially ends my ownership.

Now that she is a Texan maybe she will get a new name. Let's hope so because old Cecelia still leaks!

Cecilia

 "Cecilia you're breaking my heart , you're shaking my confidence daily"

I have owned my boat for 22 years and never named her until now. I told my buddy, Paul, on a recent trip I needed to give her this name. The opening of the song accurately describes my relationship with her.

 From her initial voyage with Scott and me when she almost sank because I failed to put the plug in she has shaken my confidence. The photo above was taken that August 2, 2003 morning. The photo shows  she still had the advertisement for Paul  (not my buddy Paul) Center for guiding and custom rods. I have a fishing rod that he made for me and have been on several fishing trips with him. Both sides of the stern of Cecilia still say "Angling Adventures".  

Cecilia today looks a little different. In 2003 there were no scratches or dents and she didn't leak. There was a different trolling motor, no spare wheel and tire, a different winch, trailer tongue, different depth finder, fewer seats, no 9.9 hp motor, and different trailer lights. There were no tie up ropes, carpet stains or anchor. The live well didn't fill with water until I turned on the pump. Now the intake is plugged to keep unwanted water out.

Cecilia also didn't have any memories on that August Saturday, but she was about to create many. 

On August 2, 2003, neither Scott or Sarah were married. I didn't have granddaughters who would come to spend time with me and Cecilia,

Cecilia has given us trophies too numerous to mention.

and many times she saw us get skunked. 

As I scan these photos of time spent with family and friends in Cecelia, I am sad to see her go. She has given me multiple memories that start with a smile.

It's time for my son to continue on with her and make more memories...if he gets her leaks fixed!

Boat$ damn boat$$

 There is an inspirational poster with this quote, "A boat is safe in the harbor, but that is not what boats are for" . Although a little grammatically incorrect, it is meant to inspire one to go out and explore the world and go fishing.  I would change that quote to reflect the reality of boat ownership. "A boat is cheaper in the garage, but saving money is not why you bought the damn thing"

3 years ago I seriously considered getting rid of my boat. That year it cost me several thousand dollars just to keep it operational. See https://principalfishing.blogspot.com/2022/08/closing-in-on-my-second-happiest-day.html

Now after 22 years of ownership, this year hasn't been much better. This summer I discovered the  trailer tongue lacked a drain hole and boat trailer was completely rusted through. 

The repair cost me $600 . The shop had to completely rebuild the tongue.

That expense convinced me it was perhaps time for the boat to go. Well, that and the fact that the boat leaks so bad that we have to pump it out every hour on the water. This in in spite of plugging every visible intake on the boat.

Additionally I have spent hours under the boat with epoxy resin dripping in my face trying to seal every visible seam under the boat. (These are just a few repaired seams.)

Once Scott decided that he wanted the leaky old tub I knew the tires had little chance of making the trip to Texas. Trailer tires only last about 5 years due to dry rot. My boat trailer tires were 16 years old. That was fine for short fishing trips, but not for a 1200 mile journey. Another $250 and I have new kicks.

Yet I can't quit trying to get a few more hours on the boat. Don, Paul and I took her out one more time this past week. While picking up bait, I noticed the license plate was hanging by one bolt. I removed it and decided to drive illegally without a plate. She still leaks, Don still managed to wrap line around my 9.9 hp prop, and we had to violate lake rules by using my 25 hp to get around, but we had a good time fishing. At least one of us caught fish.

When I got home I repaired the license plate holder and drained more water out of her and put more epoxy on the seams. I removed the prop and fishing line, but took over an hour to reinstall it because I put it on backwards. The batteries were nearly dead from running the bilge pump and using the trolling motor to maneuver so more hours of charging them. Just another typical day.

She's down to her final weeks in Illinois. She still gives me enjoyment and frustration and costs me money, but I stand by my quote. "A boat is cheaper in the garage, but saving money is not why you bought the damn thing"

And I didn't tell you about our adventure this week with Paul's boat!

3 Amigos

 Last Monday I ran into a teacher hired just as I was leaving the principalship. He mentioned that Don and Paul and I were a close knit group of former principals. He called us the "3 Amigos". I think it is a very appropriate label for us.

We have been fishing buddies for over 35 years. We started together when we were all experiencing tremendous stress due to the closing of schools and over crowding in our buildings. In the spring of that year Don's wife, Pat, suggested we get out of town and go fishing.  It was a perfect suggestion and led to the first amazing fishing adventure for us. I wrote about it in "Almost Holiday" https://principalfishing.blogspot.com/2016/01/almost-holiday.html

Since that wonderful weekend on Lake Shelbyville we have fished in multiple lakes in Illinois from Murphysboro to Shabbona and rivers from the Rock to the Apple. We have fished lakes in Wisconsin, Michigan, and Wyoming. We have fished trout streams in the Great Smoky Mountains and  the Driftless Area of Wisconsin,  Iowa, and Illinois. Don mentioned today the three of us have visited the original Bass Pro Shop (Don always says Pro Bass) in Springfield Missouri and the original Cabalas in Sidney Nebraska. Don has also visited the original Orvis shop in Vermont. One of our first adventures was to a Bass Pro Shop in Gurnee, where we were all suckered into buying a magic worm that only catches fisherman. We have cursed so many fishing guides that it is almost embarrassing. Some have even refused to be paid because we didn't catch any fish under their guidance.

We have heart issues, early dementia issues,  and cancer issues, but they don't keep us from fishing. We used to go out alone, but now find safety in numbers. Safety in numbers allow us to continue to share stories of other adventures. The greatest challenge is finding time between doctor appointments to get on a lake. The weather has to also be good as we can no longer challenge high winds or high temperatures. We have gone from three boats to two and soon to one, but we make sure that we go together.

We are no longer very agile or steady. Walking on a floating dock is an adventure and getting in and out of a boat is a risky challenge. Still we yearn for the chance to be together on the water. We help each other out to make sure we don't fall in. .. or I should say usually don't fall in.

The 3 Amigos do not always fish together, but at least two of us go out. We always have fun, and I mean it. We don't always catch fish, or survive unscathed, but the times with these guys are what keeps me coming back from Texas every spring. As I told many people who asked why we go on fishing trips where no fish are caught, "It isn't about the fishing".  I have 4 brothers, but these guys are my brothers in many ways too numerous to describe.