My title has precious little to do with this post, it is simply a shameless attempt to draw you in.
Since you're here I think it may have worked!
Yesterday Fisherhubby disturbed my peaceful afternoon rest by ringing me up on my cell phone. Seems he was in the middle of Lake Petenwell, a "mere" 23,000 square acre lake, out of gas and his trolling motor battery was running down.
"Well, turn it off while we talk and until we can figure out the BEST place for me to meet you!" Says I.
We began the process of trying to figure out exactly where he was - - - process which was complicated GREATLY by the fact that he has no clue which direction is north and which is south so no matter WHAT shoreline landmark I mentioned he didn't know where he was from there.
The classic "you can't get there from here" scenario 'cause folks, if YOU don't know where YOU are than no one else can find you either!
When I felt satisfied that we had both understood where he was and where I would have to go to meet him I hung up the phone and proceeded to get and fill a 5 gallon red gasoline can and head out to rescue him.
He began the slow troll to the meeting place.
When I arrived I was still in the middle of nowhere.
I didn't know whether to be relieved that I was alone in the world or scared spitless that some ne'er do well would drive up with intentions of attacking a puffy middle-aged grandmother.
There was nothing for it but to get out, investigate my surroundings, and hope to goodness Fisherhubby was down the bank, floating in his boat near the shore, waiting for me.
Someone had conveniently built a lovely "look out tower" at that spot just for me.
I went onto the tower and began to look out.
To the north - - - - no Fisherhubby.
Straight west, "out to sea" - - - nary a ship in sight.
Do you see how BIG this lake is? Second largest in Wisconsin.
Fisherhubby WOULD choose this one on which to get lost.
Why oh why couldn't he choose one that the entire thing could be viewed from any spot on shore??? Would make rescuing him a whole lot simpler!
To the south, the direction I expected Fisherhubby to come from - - - nada.
I WAS quite relieved to note there was a lovely dock in that direction because the shore was really rocky and I wasn't sure how I'd get the heavy gas can onto his boat from all that rockiness.
Still - - - - there'd have to BE a boat there first in order for any refueling to occur!
Oh, did I mention that Fisherhubby's phone was also dying?
Oh yes it was. Each time I called him I was putting him in jeopardy of losing all ability to communicate by land OR by sea.
Still, I thought it was pretty important to call him at this point to see where he was since he certainly wasn't here.
"I'm in a cove." Was his reply to my query.
As you can see, "I'm in a cove" was a totally useless description of one's position on this particular lake - - - it's entire shoreline is riddled with coves.
I began to describe major landmarks along the lake trying to discern if he was north or south of those in an attempt to pinpoint his position.
"Keetha - - - I have no idea which direction is north and which is south!!!!!"
"Well, look on your map for - - -"
"I can't SEE my map 'cause I can't find my reading glasses."
Did I mention his phone was going dead?
His phone was going dead.
Finally I was able to pinpoint where he was and where I was. He was two coves south of me.
I know MY directions.
I couldn't drive to him because I was in the only place in the vicinity that had public access to the lake shore.
We decided that he would use his trolling motor and come up the shore to me.
I began my "wait."
Did I mention it was raining?
It was raining.
I set up a little "station" for myself on my look out tower and began to look out.
Perhaps this is a good place to tell you that the three or four times a vehicle went past me on the road behind me I nearly peed my pants with fright since there wasn't another living mammal in sight and I didn't know if a serial rapist ax murderer was driving one of those vehicles or not.
Pretty soon I decided that if I got the 5 gallon can of gasoline and took it down to the shore it would save us time later.
Dusk was coming on and I didn't know how long it would take Fisherhubby to get to me with only a puny little trolling motor for locomotion. I thought perhaps doing what I could do ahead of time would be beneficial.
So I went to my car, got the gas can, and toted it down from the top of my look out tower to the bottom - - - three LONG flights of steps.
I ACTUALLY thought to myself, "Goodness, I HOPE nobody takes it before Fisherhubby comes."
NOBODY TAKES IT!?! There wasn't a living soul in sight - - - who was going to take it?!??
My mind does these little tricks on me at times like this.
About this time I got one last call from Fisherhubby telling me he thought he was in the cove just south of me. Then the phone went dead.
So much for THAT battery.
I sure hoped the other one - - - the all important trolling motor one - - - would hold out.
Now in an attempt to not focus on those things which were tempting me to get uneasy - - - you know the serial ax murderer rapist who was roaming the countryside looking for a puffy grandmotherly sort to assault AND the trolling motor battery which was probably sputtering out its last gasps of electricity and then Fisherhubby would have to paddle WITH HIS HANDS, since he doesn't even OWN a pair of oars, "up hill both ways through waist deep snow barefoot" to get to me - - - I began to investigate my surroundings.
That was when I spotted this sign, which spelled out in 5 clear statements how I could and could not use this particular watch tower lake shore location.
I noticed that it did NOT say it could be used as a refueling station and I HOPED the conservation officer would NOT come by and arrest me on the spot for illegal use of public lands.
(If you just stumbled across this blog for the first time and do not know of my propensity for exaggeration, perhaps I should assure you at this point that my middle name is Exaggeration Queen.)
When I returned to my watch tower perch, I looked down and saw that I had picked up a few "hitch-hikers" while I was getting close enough to the "Attention" sign in order to photograph it for YOU my bloggy readers.
Another example that I will go to nearly any extreme for you.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity I saw a tiny speck round the southern peninsula and head into my cove.
Do you see the tiny speck rounding the cove?
When "it" began to wave at me, I felt sure it was Fisherhubby and not the serial ax murderer rapist coming in by sea instead of by land.
At this point it occurred to me that I could further save some time by lugging that heavy gas can over to the dock area.
This I began to do.
About midway to the dock, I snapped this shot of the "trail" over which I'd already lugged that heavy old gas can.
Don't see a trail? Well - - - I didn't either, really. But I MADE tracks over it just the same.
I didn't like getting over the sharp rocks which threatened to hurl me into the abyss at any moment - - - but I persevered.
This is what the trail ahead looked like.
Hmmmmmm - - - not much better.
I looked up to check on Fisherhubby's progress.
Did I mention that a trolling motor is S-L-O-W!?! I think a turtle could have swum faster.
Finally I got my heavy load of gasoline perched precariously on a pile of rocks not too far from the dock.
As I stood there trying to determine how I would get it over these obstacles, I HEARD a familiar voice calling out:
"Leave it, I can get it from there!"
I looked up and PRAISE GOD FROM WHOM ALL BLESSINGS FLOW Fisherhubby had arrived at the dock.
I only WISH this was the complete end of the tale - - - but alas it was not to be so.
I returned to my car and headed for home once I knew Fisherhubby's motor was going to start and go. For me the adventure was over. I had thwarted that serial ax murderer rapist and denied him his puffy grandmotherly victim for THAT night.
But for Fisherhubby, there was yet another adventure to be faced - - - that of navigating the channel at the mouth of the lake and getting his boat trailered IN THE DARK since by this time night had fallen.
He had enough issues with trailering his boat in the dark that I heard him exclaim ere he fell into bed (later) that it was the WORST day of fishing he'd EVER had.
Still, at LEAST he caught this 13 pound carp, which put up a fight fit to put any self-respecting same-sized musky to shame. Though a carp is generally considered to be a c _ _ ppy fish (switch the two interior letters for I won't say that word), catching it and one little white bass redeemed the day.
Now, for all you animal lovers everywhere, rest well tonight knowing that this cute little carp was released back into the great big "sea" to swim another day.
And all's well in our little world.
Thanks to Unknown Mami for hosting
"Sundays in My City"
To which I am linking this post.
My City is Wisconsin Rapids, Wisconsin
"Sundays in My City"
To which I am linking this post.
My City is Wisconsin Rapids, Wisconsin