Aluminum Boat

I was in a hurry as I made the turn down to the launch ramp. Sitting in traffic while the last city I went through had people out blocking off streets for their annual Summer celebration made me late.

Finally a cop pointed the way to the detour and we got moving again. My plans to be out on the lake by 7 in the morning became nearly 9.

The little 14 foot Aluminum boat was loaded though, all I had to do was back her down the ramp and drop the tie downs.

It was so light I could easily shove it off the trailer into the water.

She had a nice electric trolling motor, the battery was fully charged and there was a pair of oars for just in case something happened.

I looked out across the lake, there was only the slightest breeze on the water, not bad for a Memorial day weekend.

Now if the fish were just biting, things would be perfect. In short order, I was out onto the lake, worm hung so that the piece of bait looked a bit like a tiny fish, the flasher I ran ahead of it causing the tip of the pole to make a slight tapping motion.

That moment when the lure vanishes into the depths is the very best one in life to me, almost nothing on the planet can match that.

Expectation of what the next bite at the bait might bring is a magic time for a fisherman.

I have to say I love the idea of catching fish, if I have a spare moment or can even manage to sneak one in I have a line in the water.

Now at 38 years old, I had long since given up on the idea of marriage, children, the house with the lawn and the picket fence.

One bad marriage had been quite enough for me. Nothing I had ever done had been good enough for Caroline, the beautiful and she knew it woman I had married.

All of my friends told me I was one lucky SOB, little did they know.

Well. As it turned out, a couple of them did know.

Even my efforts in the bedroom had apparently been lacking, because she sure had her fair share of experiments with others.

I found that out by accident, driving by one day to a place outside of town. Even back then I liked fishing trips, which for some odd reason Caroline never minded me taking one bit. I just wanted to check out a boat sale, I had been thinking of getting one anyway and they had a 20% off deal going on.

There sat the Mercedes I had bought Caroline, in front of a motel. Right next to it was a big pickup, one that was easy to spot since it had tires at least four times to big for it.

A guy named Frank I knew barely with a reputation of being handy with women owned that truck. I could add up two and two pretty easy.

I turned around and parked down the street, pretty much out of sight and waited. About an hour later out came Caroline, Frank right behind her. She was laughing at something he said, I watched as they kissed and then she hopped into the Mercedes. Frank had gotten in a few good feels of Caroline's tits while they necked a bit.

Hell, she drove right by me, I guess she was feeling pretty safe because she didn't even look over.

The photos served quite well in court. That had cost me nearly five grand, the one with her on her hands and knees with one guy I didn't know on one end and Frank on the other was classic and would have fit right in on any porno web site.

His fucking Dick wasn't even as big as mine which pissed me off even more, to be honest.

Caroline didn't end up with much as a result, and I had changed by then. The mellow guy I was before became an unbending asshole. Men know deep down inside when a wife is unfaithful, but even then that one picture was a complete shock to me.

She did call me a greedy bastard, about the last words she ever said to me. I was rather proud of my self control, she was right there and in range and I didn't even hit her.

So instead of parties, vacations like many single, I just went fishing. Usually all by myself, too.

With no wife to keep in trinkets, I saved and invested. A few good guesses in the stock market helped a lot so I was quite comfortable.

When I needed a bit of relief, I parted with a $100 bill down at a local massage place I knew about.

The place was nice, clean, and as legitimate as it was possible to be from all accounts, or anything that showed. I normally saw a lady named Stephanie that worked there.

But then the door is locked?

For special customers like me, Stephanie had no reservations about using her hands to break the law a little bit. Once she even suggested that there might be more than that if I wanted to go out sometime, but I never took her up on that.

The very last thing in the world I wanted was a female getting too close to me.

Once I even got a rubdown from the older lady named Bell (honest) that owned the spa, she had the table all set up with sheets. I wasn't used to that and I guess I looked at it funny. She caught my look and whispered to me to "be as comfortable as you like, honey. Stephanie says you are OK." Then she grinned and left the room.

She was OK but Stephanie was better so it was just that one time. I was flabbergasted when she grabbed my cock and I looked up, Bell had her boobs out. Even Stephanie never did that.

That was honest to God as close as I got to any female for about 4 years, I didn't date at all, I never went to the nudie bars, in fact, I didn't even look at porn.

Yes, my life was boring as hell, all I ever did was go to work and sometimes go fishing.

+++

This lake I knew very well, big and deep, it usually had an early morning bite. I had been there several times, renting the heavy fiberglass boats old Carl at the resort had tied up there.

Big Honda outboards, noisy things, I thought they might be scaring the fish so that is why I bought the Aluminum boat with the nice electric motor on the back. Plus no matter what I did, even at the slowest speed they went too fast to catch the really big fish I wanted.

Even with two buckets towed along behind.

By mid day the bite would taper off as the Sun got higher. Early on I ran the solid Silver colored flasher, middle of the day I switched to one I had painted jet black with just a strip of Silver left in the center, as the day faded to afternoon out came the all Gold flasher.

I prided myself in being smarter than the fish, and usually I caught some. Most I just slipped the barb less hook and let them go, a few that were badly hooked went into the cooler for a meal.

I always bought the bait holder type hooks, pinched the main barb down, but I left the two on the shank to keep the worm running straight like it was a little fish. Then I got the biggest and fattest worms I could find, because I used big number 2 hooks.

Little fish usually missed the hook that way, the big ones didn't throw it back in my face when they went airborne quite so easily.

Once in a very long time I would get into a real trophy, I had already taken a half dozen big Trout out of this very lake that were well over 5 pounds.

There were the stories though, the ones about the big ones, those 10 pounds and up. The Cutthroat ran around 15 inches, the Rainbows were mostly planted and averaged a foot long or so, it was the big German Browns that I was interested in.

There was talk about Lake Trout too but I never saw one.

Old Carl was a crusty old guy that ran the sports shop on the docks, he always tried to sell me some big gaudy plugs, and he did manage to sell me a couple of them. He had a stuffed Lake Trout hanging on the wall that had a tag claiming it weighed 32 pounds.

"Came right out of this lake!" He told me.

I laughingly accused him of having it made out of plastic, which got indignant denials. He also had a Big Bass hanging on the wall, that thing had teeth that sure as hell weren't real so I was probably right about his Lake Trout.

I then proceeded to drag those plugs around the lake for days, of course nothing happened. I went back to my piece of worm, and right back to catching fish.

This trip I trolled for a solid hour, nothing. But I was enjoying the day, it was fairly warm. I headed right out across the lake, hoping the fish would be in the middle as sometimes happened.

I was about two miles out, I had switched from trolling shallow to very deep when the rod tip went down, a fat scrappy little Rainbow just under a foot long appeared. I let it go, and seconds later I had another one. It went just like that, one fish after another, each one an exact duplicate of the other. Those never put up much of a fight, and they were easy to spot as planted because of the stubby rounded tail fins.

The Sun got higher, the bite eased off so I switched to the black lure and went deeper and the bite picked right back up. I have no idea why that works, an old man suggested it to me one afternoon and I tried it.

As I was hanging on a large piece of night crawler, I noticed the wind had picked up some, running with the wind I hadn't realized but of course the little boat instantly turned sideways when I stopped the electric motor to drift.

It was getting hard to control my speed, the wind was pushing me along at a pretty good clip.

Glancing up, I could see the shoreline but I couldn't quite make out the launch ramp where I had parked.

Turning on the engine, I swung away from the wind and all felt OK, so I added some lead and let the line out deep, hoping to get away from the little Rainbows and maybe hook a bigger one.

The line went down just as soon as I flipped the bail and set the butt into the holder.

"Big one!" I said out loud, no point since no one was near me at all. There wasn't likely to be, it was opening day weekend, everyone heads for the rivers which is why I always headed for the lake.

The big fish fought deep, the boat swung sideways and was really rocking now. That was the part I didn't like, the wind. The little boat weighed almost nothing so it was like a leaf on the water.

But being light meant I could drag it around, which is why I bought it.

I realized I needed to stand up to better control the fish, of course it was now upwind and I was facing downwind. I managed to get myself turned around without falling overboard, reached back with one hand as the fish took out line and turned the engine on high speed, swinging the bow into it.

But the instant I let go of the motor to work the reel handle the boat swung instantly sideways.

Finally I gave up and just fought the fish. I didn't dare stand up, and by now the fish I had on was a hundred yards out.

It took nearly a full hour, the huge fish was gasping alongside the boat. I pulled as hard as I dared, with one hand I bailed out some water, then went back to pulling. Looking down at the thing, that was when I realized it wasn't a German Brown, it was a huge Lake Trout.

A Lake Trout? On a flasher and worm? That was odd, but then I have caught Chinook Salmon on a flasher and worm, even out in the Ocean.

That was funny, a grizzled old Captain looked at me like I was crazy when I took off the Herring and lead and hung on my own rig. I hung the entire worm on there, to give it some wiggle.

Twenty minutes later I had a 19 pound Chinook flopping on the deck, he just shook his head and went inside.

I also caught several big Sea Bass that trip, too.

Bass, Bluegill, even Catfish sometimes, nothing works better most of the time. Of course, I have also had large Salmon hit the flasher which sort of messes them up.

+++

A Lake Trout? It was the first one I ever saw, and it was monstrous!

I reached for the net, looked at it, then at the fish.

Maybe it's head would fit in there, maybe. I dropped the net and reached down, the big fish had it's mouth hanging open so I grabbed it by the lower jaw.

The boat damn near went under right then, but I shifted my weight backwards just as she shipped water over the side.

It took quite a bit of effort to hang on and drag it over the side, the thing had to weigh over to 40 pounds!

Man! What a fish! This would get my photo hanging on the wall at the sports shop for sure, it was easily a lake record, I thought.

The hook was in pretty deep, but with no barb it rotated out easily, I managed to avoid the sharp teeth. I grabbed some burlap I had and soaked it with water, wrapped the fish up after bonking it on the head with my pliers.

Then I looked up.

I could no longer see the launch ramp, in fact, now even the shoreline was coming into view only when I topped the big waves.

It was just a haze in the distance.

The wind was really picking up, it was time to get the hell out of there. I turned on the little motor, swung the bow into the waves. Every time I crested a roller though, the bow caught the wind and swung sideways and I had to bring her back.

I was having one hell of a fight to keep her straight. I was also wishing I had selected a bigger boat, and right at the moment I was missing the powerful Hondas old Carl had on his rentals.

Now the lake was throwing whitecaps at me, water was beginning to slosh back and forth in the hull. I grabbed my tin can and bailed with one hand while fighting to keep making headway with the other.

A half hour later I realized I was losing ground. Then to help things along it started to rain, sprinkles at first but then down it came in torrents.

I was getting very wet and cold. Sticking a hand into my pocket did no good, more water was coming in, my pocket was wet anyway, and if I let go of the motor I was nearly instantly going the wrong direction.

Then when a rather large wave came over top of the bow leaving a good six inches of water inside, I gave up. That scared the hell out of me. I swung the boat downwind, there was no choice, that last wave nearly swamped me.

Now the waves were slapping the stern, but at least much less water was coming in. I began to bail like a madman.

At the same time, I felt the battery begin to fail. The RPM's were obviously falling, finally it slowed enough that it was mostly useless. I unhooked that and shoved the battery forward to shift weight, moved to the center seat and pulled out the oars.

That was when I discovered that the oar locks would not fit into the holder for them, they were too large. I had just bought the pair, brand new and never thought to check that.

Just plain stupid, that was. Cold and now not thinking well, it didn't hit me to use some rope to tie those in place.

Sitting sideways with no way to control direction, it was a matter of time until I was flipped over.

The all metal boat, with no floatation of any kind would go down like a stone.

That was the moment I realized that I could die out here in the middle of this huge lake, life jacket on be damned. The water was very cold and I was now miles from the shore I had left from. Looking up, I could see I was closer to the other shore but it was a blue haze, one long damn ways off.

I had that small bucket with a handle on it that I used on the rental boats as a drag, so I tied it to a piece of rope, threw it over the stern. I tied the other end around the electric motor, instantly the Aluminum boat swung bow first downwind.

That freed up both of my hands for bailing. It took me quite a bit of time to get the six inches of water that had collected again out of the bottom, and by moving my weight, the battery and the big fish even further towards the bow the stern lifted some. Much less water was slapping over the stern.

I thought of dumping the battery overboard, but no way in hell was I going to dump that fish.

Finally I said fuck it, over the side went a brand new $90 deep cycle marine battery. Next my tackle box, although I closed it, hoping it would float since there was an easy $500 work of tackle in it. The anquor went also.

Everything, I was trying to get the little boat as light as I could.

I could see that it was now around 3 in the afternoon, which of course without fail brought even more wind off the nearby Ocean.

This one was way more than a normal wind, though, the sky to the West was now very dark. The rain had eased up but I could see more coming. A shot of lightning lit up the face of the storm, It popped into my head that not only was I in trouble from the water, but I was sitting in an all metal boat in the middle of a huge lake?

So much for accurate weather forecasts, they had predicted gusts to 10 MPH and this was already twice that and building.

The rope around the motor pulled very tight each time the boat lurched forward over the top of the waves, I worried about it breaking.

I glanced up at the downwind shoreline, it had changed from a hazy blue to where I could make out trees. That gave me a bit of hope.

Then somehow I slept, I have no idea how. What woke me up was my feet being very wet, and it was pouring down cold rain again.

I looked down at the large amount of water inside the hull and began to bail furiously, by the time I was floating high again I was exhausted. I now realized I was going to make shore, I just had no idea where. Then I felt the boat hit something, I looked and didn't see anything but trees up on the bank about a hundred yards away.

Then I hit something again.

Rocks! I was against a gravel bar that reached far out into the lake. I could see the rocky beach, I managed to get my nearly frozen feet over the side, reached down to grab the side of the boat as another big roller came over the stern nearly knocking me down.

The next wave lifted her and the boat came to a stop, jamming into the rocks. I lifted with all my might, managed to tip the boat enough that water poured out the opposite side. The next wave pushed her closer to the shore, filled it again so once again I lifted.

Suddenly it became easy, another set of hands was helping me to empty it. I knew it was a woman but that is all I knew. She helped my drag the now very light boat up to shore and up the bank.

Then she ran down to the water's edge, I saw she had grabbed my fish that had been swept out when we lifted the boat. She appeared to be a large woman, but it was hard to tell from the rain slicker she wore.

I managed to get further up the bank, stood there shaking furiously.

"Come on!" She said, heading up the rocky beach. I followed her, she made it about 50 feet and stopped.

"Damn, this thing is heavy!" She said, looking back at me.

"Leave it." I told her.

"No way I will, you looked like you were willing to die to bring it in, so let's get it to the house."

The truth is that by the time the boat reached shore I had long since forgotten the damn fish.

I followed her as she half carried and half dragged the fish through what looked like a nearly solid wall of blackberry bushes, but there was a narrow trail there. Another hundred yards and there was a small cabin, smoke coming out of a silver chimney sticking through the roof.

Once inside, it was so hot it hurt. My face and hands felt like they were on fire, the rest of my body was so cold I was shivering.

"Give me a hand." She said. I looked and saw she could not quite get the huge fish up onto the table, she was tired out from the dash to the cabin carrying it. I grabbed it and the two of us managed that, then I was done.

By done, I mean that, I was done. I could no longer stand. I did manage to grasp the back of a nearby wooden chair, sat down. I looked up, from someplace the woman had gotten one of those hand held scales with a big hook on it, she managed to climb up on a wooden chair and somehow lifted the fish and read it.

"Forty six and one half pounds!" She exclaimed, setting it back down. I saw that it's tail was still resting on the table so it was even bigger than that.

Then she turned to me.

"We gotta get those wet clothes off of you, you are turning white." She started tugging at my soaked clothing. The first thing she took off was my life jacket, I still had it on.

She got my coat and shirt off, managed to drag my T-shirt over my head. Then she sat down on the floor and pulled off my shoes and socks, next she was tugging at my blue jeans. She was having a hell of a time with it, too.