Woke up at 10, and took a 3 hour afternoon nap, catching up on the
sleep I lost from the flight. The local authorities are meeting at the
local fly shop tomorrow at 11, so no boat recovery today. I partially
resurrected the camera by taking it apart and leaving it in the sun.
Electronics seem to be fine, but pictures are blurry because there’s
literally fog in the lens. Said lens also makes a grinding sound from
the grit it picked up. I’m going to leave it on the dashboard of the
car for more baking tomorrow, hopefully that will clear it

Spent a lot of time sitting on the porch, watching the river. Tons
of bugs around- caterpillars, ants, bees, stone flies, fireflies,
plain old flies, you name it.

Sabbatical is still awesome. Hoping I’ll recover some gear along with
the boat tomorrow.

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Read yesterday’s post first.

Got some unfulfilling sleep on the plane, which is about the best you can do.

Spirit Airlines has a line a mile long, I decide not to wait in it to
change my ticket.

Went to rent the car – someone forgot to get off the rental car bus,
so it had to circle around a second time. When I get the rental car,
they security lady tells me I can’t have this car, I have to pick
another one, but I’ll get a free upgrade for my trouble . I get an
Impala. It is surprisingly nice. I proceed to zoom to the hook and
horn in 3 hours and 45 mintues. Falling asleep at the wheel was not a
problem. The Blackberry saves me with GPS and Google maps when I
learn the Zilwaukee bridge is closed and I have to detour through
Saginaw.

While driving, I call Spirit, wait on hold for 42 minutes, and learn
pushing the ticket a day will cost $250, plus the extra $65 for the
rental car. Dave, I love you bro, but I’m going to miss your
graduation party.

Grandma and Grandpa are waiting for me when I pull into the Hook and
Horn, Uncle Chris arrives an hour later. We put the boat in and begin
drift fishing, dropping anchor constantly at attractive spots. I like
trout fishing. I like being on the river. I like the way the line
moves. I like the sound of stripping line off the reel. None of my
knots hold (I’m losing turns somehow, I think). It’s much harder
tying with monofilimant then with fat fly line. I learn a ton by
osmosis. Grandpa catches a brown trout, foul hooked behind the gill.
A bad omen.

The Hook and Horn is right on the river, and we stop halfway through
the drift for a bio-break, re-rig, and to move the trailer around.

Did I mention the river is really high because it’s been raining a
ton? Because of the high water there have been a few spots that were
tight. When we first put in, we have to duck under a road bridge with
about 4 inches of clearance. Sometimes we have to duck brush or push
branches out of the way.

We fish the second half of the river. I switch to my sinking line,
same results (i.e. no fish). The casting is much differant than when
wading . . .you’re moving with the river most of the time, so casts
are short, and the line moves away from you more slowly. “Have you
ever broken a rod tip?” Uncle Chris doesn’t answer. The Baldwin
river joins the Pere Marquette, so the water is running even faster
than before. I run out of streamers because I keep snagging them.
Soon, Grandpa does as well. We’re almost home, so we decide to enjoy
scenery.

There is one particular downed tree we’ve been worried about. They
ran the river on Sunday, before the water was high, and it was a bit
tight.

We see it in the distance – there is one spot we’ll need to hit, but
it looks doable.

The current is strong. We do not hit the critical spot.

Uncle Chris says “Oh Shit”.

We’re pinned hoizontally against the tree. The boat digs in. I
notice water is coming over the side rail.

This is called a “high side”. I’ve been in this situation before
white-water rafting. That was in a self bailing rubber raft. This a
fiberglass boat.

Grandpa is sitting next to me. I know the drill . . . I need to put
all my weight on the other edge . “Grandpa, you need to come to the
high-side of the boat.” I hear a loud crack.

I’m underwater. It’s not cold. I’m not wearing a lifejacket.

Now, I can stand barely, fighting the rushing water. “I’ll grab the
stuff”, I say. I grap fishing vests, shoes, socks. Uncle Chris yells
“Waders!”. I see them . . . are they mine? Mine were locked in a
locker. They don’t look like mine as I pull them in. There are
boots, I grab them. Gravel guards, got them. A fishing net.

Ever time I reach to grab something, I’m losing ground against the
river. Suddenly, I can’t stand anymore, the water is over my head.
The cluster of stuff I’m holding gives me boyancy.

Stuff keeps breaking out of the cluster, so I scramble to pull it back
in. Still can’t touch the bottom. There are more trees ahead. I
don’t want to get snagged in them and drown. I’ve been calm . . .
tension rises for a brief moment. I’m tired of being in the river. I
tell myself not to panic. I am not going to die.

I can only kick because of the stuff I’m holding. I don’t want to let
it go, plus it’s helping me float since I’m fully clothed. I know I’m
not supposed to fight the current, but work with it (Thanks, Bear
Grylls). There’s an eddy . . . I do scisscor kick to get into it.
Some small white bottles of sunblock or something break from the
cluster. I let them go. I reach shore.

I drop the cluster in a pile. I’m tired. I take off my fishing vest
and necklace and throw it on the pile. I pull my no longer submerged
camera out of my pocket and on the pile.

I hear Grandpa talking to Uncle Chris “There’s the seat.”. There is a
boat chair coming. Is it worth diving in to save this chair? What if
I drown? Will my news headline say “Dumbass drags self out of water,
then dies trying to save chair”? But it’s so very close, and I know I
can get back to shore. New chairs are expensive right? . . . I dive
in and get it. In and out in 20 seconds.

I see another chair. It’s in a farther current ribbon, twisted and
broken. I’m not getting that one.

I splash through he shallows back to the fallen tree. Uncle Chris and
Grandpa are sitting on it, halfway out of the water. There’s open
rushing water between the tree and me. I’m going to have to cross the
river again. Uncle Chris wants me to come over. The current it
strong, but I’m able to brace against some of the same underwater
branches that were the problem before. I see the outline of part of
the boat, completely submereged. It’s still pinned against the tree.

We need to get everyone off the tree. Grandpa wants to go the way I
just came. It was sort or a one way street . . . I’m not sure you can
go back. There is a whole tree’s worth of snags and branches behind
it. If you slip you might get caught and pinned under. I want
Grandpa to jump into a clearer part of the river and swim to shore.
Uncle Chris dones not like this idea. He wants Grandpa to shimmy down
the tree to the opposite bank. This is clearly the easiest and safest
method. How did I not see this?

Grandpa shimmies. “There is barbed wire on this tree”. Are you
kidding me? Grandpa uses his old man strength to remove the barb wire
with his bare hands. We all shimmy off the tree. I’m cold, and my
shirt is heavy cotton, so I take it out. Uncle Chris is barefoot. We
climb a hill to a cabin above the river. No one is home. We’re on
the wrong side of the bank from the car. Some of us will have to go
back. We tell Grandpa to follow the cabin driveway to find a main
road and wait.

Chris and I go back down the hill, we wade through more flood plain.
In the grass, a fawn jumps up. It’s still spotted. I show Chris the
trees that worried me before, we decide the best place to cross is
where the boat is, the way I didn’t want Grandpa to go. We carefully
make it, going on the underwater backside branches to minimize the
chance of getting caught. We swamp walk back to the pile stuff.
Uncle Chris cannot beleive how big the pile of stuff is. Looking at
it with a clearer mind, I’m not sure how I managed to grip and hold
onto all the stuff in the current. I only had two hands

We hike back to the car, which is only about a quarter mile. If we
would have cleared that tree, we would have been out of the water 5
minutes later. I instead, it’s been like an hour. The people driving
buy just think I’m some fishing redneck without a shirt on, not
someone walking away from a real life experience. Uncle Chris has
left the keys at the car, a stroke of good luck.

Uncle Chris has a county map, and we figure out we need to drive
through Baldwin to cross back over the river to get to backroad that
should have Grandpa. 10 minutes later, he’s happy to see us.
Everyone is alive . . . Grandpa pinched a couple fingers that aare
bruised but not broken.

We drive back to the Hook and Horn. Grandma wonders why the boat is
not on the trailer. We explain that the boat has been claimed by the
river gods. We eat dinner, sharing our versions of the story. Chris
and I have Gin on the rocks, Grandpa has beer. We take pictures of
the all stuff I salvaged, carefully arranged for effect. I smoke the
best cigar of my life – a Folsom handroll I’d bought yesterday in a
the collection of thank you cigars for Unclue Chris. I’d Swallowed
the plastic bag that held them into the cluster, of course.

My rod, reel, fleece, waders, boots are MIA. Camera is in critical,
likely fatal condition. Uncle Chris thinks the load crack was the
boat being ripped in half by the river.

I’m exhilared, having tapped my primal survival instincts and not found wanting.

More tomorrow.

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Waiting in the airport now to fly to Michigan, my flight’s on time,
and I have an exit row for the red-eye segment so I should be able to
sleep.

Woke up at 6am so I’d be tired for the flight, mowed the grass, got a
haircut, got some money from the ATM, bought some cigars for my uncle,
and then returned some hole saws to OSH that I’d bought last weekend
for a project but didn’t end up needing . . . all before 11am. Then,
Without warning, things began to go wrong.

Jeff texts me that my website says the server’s being shut down. Huh?
It was working last night. I IM with Startlogic, who proceed to tell
me that the transition their new hosting platform had a “problem”. No
kidding. I tell them I need my website (I mean seriously . . . the
only time I’ll probably ever use it every day), and that the timing
for this change couldn’t be any worse. I had gotten an e-mail in
mid-March saying “we’re about to move you to the new version. . . but
don’t worry, you don’t need to do anything! We’ll do all the work and
then tell you when it’s done!”. Apparently they forgot that second
part and so never got to the third. The IM guy tells me they’ll have
their engineers “work on it” and have it up within 12 hours. If
you’re reading this, I guess they fixed it.

The solar pool guy came to look at the “champange bubbles” that I get
from the pool outlets when ever the solar is on. He says I just need
to clean my filter and or get a bigger pump and that it doesn’t matter
anyway. I run out of arguments. Those little bubbles drive me
irrationally crazy though.

I wanted to make sure that my air conditioner, which started leaking
from the “schrader valves” ever since I made the mistake ofgetting an
“inspection” from an HVAC company, was still up and running. So I
turned it on . . . nope – it’s lost all it’s refrigerant again (for
the second time). Called the AC guys back but they won’t be able to
deal with it until tomorrow, and I’ll be gone, so I have no choice but
to saddle Cynthia with it. They’re going to try to tell me it’s not
their fault, and I’m going to have to fight them and it’s going to be
annoying. Argh.

Cynthia wants to take some music off of the iPod Dave “permanent
loaned” me before I leave. Dave’s already been given me crap that I
haven’t added any music to it (it was almost full), but the thing is .
. . I don’t *have* any music. I mean, I have a bunch of stuff on CDs,
but I’m too lazy to rip it. I deleted all my college mp3s in a fit of
moral integrity years ago. Plus, the music Dave has on there has been
fun to explore, so I’ve been going with the flow. Anyway, being the
iTunes newbie that I am, I learn it won’t let you take things off an
iPod, only put them on. Super. Plus my computer is from 2002, so it
has a 40GB hard drive which is already full of 35GB of stuff . . . and
it’s a 60G iPod. I download and fire up ephPod to work around the
iTunes problem, figuring Cynthia can just pull the music she wants off
in 4GB chunks (that’s all her nano holds anyway). When she walks in,
looks at the monitor, and says “I hate ephPod. This is dumb. Why is
it so hard? Just don’t even bother”. I sigh and give up.

Today I found out that my brother is having a graduation party the day
we were planning to leave Michigan, so it makes sense to extend the
trip another day. Cynthia grudgingly admits it’s worth missing a day
of Cancun. This means I need to change our flight on Spirit. The
website says flights are avaialble at the same price. This should
work right? It finds my reservation, I hit the modify button for that
segment, it lets me pick a new day, then . . . “A notice about fees
and taxes” which is just a disclaimer, but there’s no button to
continue further or confirm or whatever. A dead end. So, I’ll just
call on the phone then . . . dial the 1-800 number (which is not on
the website, bad sign), press one for English, press 2 to confirm or
modify a reservation . . . busy signal. Huh? I try again, hitting 0
instead . . . busy signal. No message. No “Sorry, we’re all in a
meeting”. No “we’re having technical difficulties”. The news doesn’t
say anything about Spirit falling off the face of the earth today
(they are denying they will have layoffs, but this seems unrelated).
Maybe they just have one dude who answers the phone, and he was
talking to someone else who got stuck at the notice about fees and
taxes.

This luck is going to need to change starting now. My luggage will
not get lost. There will be an actual person at the Spirit Airlines
counter at Detriot Metro tomorrow mornign, and said counter will not
have just burned down. I will not get lost driving to The Hook and
Horn. The Pere Marquette will be cold and the fish will be hungry.

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