A Good Plan Gone Bad

By Joel Anderson

Did you ever have what seemed like a good fishing plan go severely wrong? It happened to me late last spring. It all started with a bright idea to leave early from work one Friday and drive 2.5 hours to my favorite river. "I still be there by 3 PM and get in 6 hours of fishing before dark" I reasoned with myself.

As I drove through the mountains, the sky in front of me got scary dark and it soon erupted into the worse hail storm I've ever witnessed. I sought refuge under a tree, but the tree offered little protecton from the baseball-sized hail stones. I sat helplessly, listening to a constant barage of ice stones pummel my poor car for more than a half hour. When the storm finally cleared, I was amazed to see that the damage to my car's finish was minor, so I continue on my way.

I parked my car and unloaded my mountain bike, which saves me about 1 mile of hiking and, more importantly, fishing time. I ditched the bike at the trailhead and started that last 20 minutes of hiking. Arriving at the river, I was so drenched in sweat from the humidity, I had to sit and cool off for awhile. Finally I started preparing my gear and I soon realized a reel I thought I had put in my vest wasn't there. Although I had a second reel, I thought I must have dropped the $200 reel on the trail and I figured I would never see the reel again if I didn't retrace my steps now. I made it all the way back to my car only to find the reel I thought I had put in my vest, in the trunk.

Back on the bike to trail trailhead and then another 20 minute hike to the river. When I arrived back at the river, I literally had to wring myself out from all the sweat. Six o'clock...only three hours off from my original ETA. "Oh well", I figured, "I still have three hours to fish"

The fishing, in short, flat out sucked. Although I didn't get skunked, the odd weather front that moved through definitely turned off the fish. As a matter of fact, I don't remember catching one memorable fish that evening. The only saving grace was the thought of the cold beer waiting on ice back at my car to enjoy on the 1/2 hour tote road ride out. I was so tired, sweaty, and bug-bitten by the time I got back to my car, I didn't even bother to take off my waders; I just loaded my fishing gear and mountain bike and hit the road.

Ten minutes from home on Route 4, I passed a State Trooper who immediately put on his blue lights and turned around. "Great, now what?" I said out load to no one.

The trooper did the usual 20 question routine and said he clocked me at 66 in a 55 MPH zone. I probably seemed a little disoriented because of the day I had just experienced. When he asked me if I had anything to drink, I answered, "Honestly, Officer, I had one beer two hours ago." Friday night, 11 PM, I'm sure that's just what he's looking for..."Well, I'm gonna have to ask you to do a sobriety test for me."

The next thing I know, I'm out on Route 4, in my waders, watching the trooper's pen go back and forth, which was not an easy task, given the cataract surgery I had just had undergone in the previous week.

Finally, after what seemed to be an interminable test, he said, "Well", you're okay to drive". He didn't even write me a ticket for the speeding violation. I think he probably figured, "This guy has been through enough anquish for one day!" Plus, much like me on the river earlier that evening, this guy was after bigger fish...

True story...You can't make this stuff up.