It’s the last full week of March. We’re excited about the NCAA tournament, the MLB season less than a week away and going outdoors without parkas, and what do we get? More snow and cold.
As we get closer and closer to warm weather, the anticipation of fishing and being outdoors is growing too strong. I have the urge to reminisce about my favorite fishing trip of 2012.
On a 94 degree scorcher of a Friday afternoon at the end of August, the day after my 21st birthday, my roommates and I set out on a relaxing voyage down the meandering Hocking River. We’d planned it for a week and knew exactly where we wanted to launch the canoe and take it out. We set out to the launch site with the canoe strapped to the roof, cooler loaded with ... ice and our rods.
The fish of choice on this trip would be catfish. This was the first time we ever had three people in the canoe at once, and casting with that many people would be too much of a hassle. Our plan was to throw some cut bait (small fish cut into easy-to-eat pieces) into some deep holes where the catfish like to stay during the day.
I was sitting on the cooler in the middle of the canoe with my buddies maneuvering downstream. We would occasionally pull up into a promising spot and throw out bait into the river. We didn’t commit too much effort to the fishing, as our main purpose was to relax and enjoy the end of the summer. With syllabus week coming to an end, we knew it was probably the last time we would be able to get back onto the water.
With the sun beginning to descend, we decided to hightail it to where my girlfriend planned to pick us up. That’s when it all went downstream.
As we loaded back onto the boat and headed downstream, I decided I needed to, for lack of a better term, “relieve myself” from the boat. I stood up and leaned to the side of the canoe. The next thing I knew, I was in the water. After establishing my bearings, I looked around and saw both Alec and Cody treading water as well — with the cooler, bags and upside-down canoe floating away.
We scurried to get our equipment before it floated away. After a minute or so we were able to corral everything we lost and get it back into the boat. There was a quick sigh of relief, until we realized the three fishing rods were nowhere to be found.
At that point, Alec began to swim down to retrieve the rods. This went on for what seemed like seven hours, but was probably closer to 15 minutes. I called my girlfriend and told her there was no way we would make it to the rendezvous point on time.
Time and time again, we took turns diving down, about 12 feet deep, trying to feel our rods on the bottom. We finally decided, after countless attempts, to give up the search. It wasn’t worth drowning just to save a couple hundred dollars worth of reels and rods. To say the least, we were not happy.
The next thing I knew, I looked over and Alec was under again. And he wasn’t coming back up. Probably 45 seconds later, after I began to worry, he surfaced, rods held high. We celebrated as if we had won the lottery.
We finally got back on our way. The frustration continued as we attempted to get the boat up a steep incline to the road. We made it happen, but not before I slipped in the mud and temporarily dislocated my finger. It just went on and on.
When all was said and done, though it was frustrating, it was a very enjoyable day. However, I can’t be sure that the surprise party waiting for me at home had anything to do with that!
Ryan Dentscheff is a junior studying journalism at Ohio University, the president of the OU Anglers Association and a columnist for The Post. Send him your fishing tips at rd291709@ohiou.edu.
