October 23, 2022 Close Call On The Water

A glassy sheen rippled off the lake and reflections of the mountains glimmered across the valley. It was a surprise late-season fishing trip, and I was showing the two men the beauty of Okanagan Lake. We had three lines in the water and were enjoying the peace of an October afternoon.

Until it almost crashed in a sudden collision.

I saw the boat approach from the north. At first, I wondered if it was fish cops coming to check us out. They were headed right for us. Why wasn’t the boat changing course? Didn’t they see us? 

No, apparently they didn’t see us.

I grabbed the wheel and pushed the throttle down and veered left. All I could see was a red boat coming straight for us.

They were getting closer, they were on a course to hit us head-on. I pushed harder on the throttle and pressed down on my horn.

Move damnit  I thought to myself. I pushed the horn again, they were going to ram right into us and they weren’t slowing down!

This is it!!

I braced but at the last second they changed course and veered off to the right. I saw writing on the boat that said “Marine Unit”. There were four people in the boat and a large dingy was on the stern of the flat deck vessel. 

It all happened so fast, looking back I wished I’d grabbed my phone and taken some pictures of the idiots on that boat. 

But I didn’t.

They didn’t slow down to enable me to see who it was. In an instant, they caught my fishing gear and two of my three lines began to spin out.

I kept laying on the horn. Stop asshole!

I was shaking with fear and anger. The one fishing line ran all the way out until it finally broke, The other line kept spinning, and I kept hammering my horn. How could they not know I had fishing lines in the water?

What complete idiots. 

Then it was over, the line stopped spinning and they kept going. I went to release my down-rigger from my last line that wasn’t damaged. I was going to go after these guys who almost killed us and destroyed seventy-five or more bucks worth of gear. The leaded line that ripped off the reel was irreplaceable. They also cut the line from a hook that was catching me fish! 

Besides, they almost fucking killed us!

I would catch them and let them have it. Except I had two customers with me on the boat. The young one was thirty-two and he brought his grandfather who was visiting from Brazil. The Grandfather was in his seventies and he didn’t speak any English. I imagine it must have been a bit harrowing for him. 

“I want to chase them,” I said to Pedro the grandson. 

“Please don’t,” He said and pointed at his grandfather, “Not with him on the boat.”

He was right, what would I accomplish by chasing that boat down Okanagan Lake? What could I do now except demand repayment for my lost fishing tackle? It was done and they still had two more hours on their tour.

Breathe…

I calmed my shaking nerves and went about putting in another fishing line. I tried to regain the peace I’d felt only moments earlier. 

It was hard, the rage still simmered beneath the surface. 

Breathe.

Lines back in the water, we proceeded the other way down the lake. I saw the boat fade and head out of sight. No catching them now, it was time to catch a fish.

Or at least try.

Ten minutes later my anger and nerves were still shaking. My fingers trembled as I looked at the rod that was stripped of all its lines.

“It could have been way worse…” I sighed to Pedro and suggested we pull in the lines and go for a cruise up the lake. 

Powering up the boat gave a small release to the energy and nerves that were pent up inside. Fifteen minutes later we approached Okanagan Resort, a hot fishing hole I knew from way back fishing with my buddies over twenty years before.

“Shall we try again here?” I asked my guests. Pedro looked at his Grandpa and asked him if he wanted to try again.

The old man smiled and nodded yes.

I set my lines again and said a brief prayer to the fish gods, “fishy, fishy in the lake, please come and take a break. Fishy, fishy in the brook please come and take my hook.”

Twenty minutes later the peace of the moment was woken by a jiggle on the line. Fish on!

Pedro reeled it in and we had our first and only fish. It was about fourteen inches long. We all smiled and we tried to get it untangled from the net. Just then it slipped and bounced free right off the back of the boat. 

Bye bye fishy.

Pedro gave me a quick high-five glad we at least caught something. 

It was a glorious day and the lake reflected the huge mansions that have sprung up clinging to the side of the surrounding mountain. The wealth was mirrored off the lake like some Canadian version of Beverly Hills. We cruised home toward the dock while my guests smiled and stared at the opulence around them. 

I dropped them off and was thrilled they gave me a tip and shook my hand goodbye. 

I still had a fourty minute cruise back to Peachland. I soaked in the beauty of the afternoon and breathed deeply. How much better could it get? I was grateful to be on the water.

Grateful to be alive.