Yesterday, August 8th, my 65th birthday, retired, old, and going fishing.
Plan A: Hit Caples Lake on the sandy side of the spillway, plop my butt on a rock and soak some Power bait.
Stopped at Cooks Station for coffee and assurance that I would catch a limit (the old superstition thing). Back in the truck I passed a sign that mentioned the road work at Carson Pass (beyond Caples) with up to 2 hour delays from 10:00am until 1:00pm. It's only 8:00am and I can get past the road work, sit for 3 hours fishing at Red Lake (five nice Brookies for the smoker was just too much to resist) and cruise back after the 1:00pm cut off time. Cool. Scratch Caples Lake.
Plan B: Screaming up Highway 88 at a blistering 45 miles per hour (in some places and 35 in others), I stopped at the rest area to take a l... and back into the truck. Up the road to Carson Pass and in the middle of the road is a stop light. What the hell is a stop light doing in the middle of Highway 88? And of course, I hit it just as the yellow turned to red. There I sit, waiting for a green light, waiting to drive down to Red Lake which is just a couple of miles ahead, and sitting at a red light in the middle of an interstate highway. How weird is that? Four minutes later I get a green and I'm off. One half a mile down the road is a light for the traffic coming the other way. Wonder what they were thinking. Ha, ha, ha, ha. Sorry, sometimes my mind just slides into the gutter.
Got to Red Lake and grabbed my tackle box, two rods, net with stringer in it, and pad for my boney butt. Walked to the place I usually fish and started down the little, rocky slope to the waters edge. Now, you're going to love this. The first rock I stepped on gave way, I slid down the side of the dam, hit the bottom and was immediately catapulted 5 feet into the lake. That would have been good on You-Tube.
Wet from head to foot, I stood up, threw my two rods up on the shore and grabbed my tackle box before it could float away, which it was trying hard to do. Stuck it up on the shore and grabbed my net, which was now empty, picked up my stringer and crawled out of the lake. Sure glad it wasn't November or December. The water wasn't bad except it was a bit green (algae).
Back to the truck, pulled off my t-shirt, squeezed it out and laid it on the truck hood to dry, put on my hoodie and back to the lake to fish. Not much stops an old Geezer from fishing. Reached for the clippers on my license lanyard and discovered, no lanyard, license, or clippers. Back to the truck to see if I left it there, but it was not to be found. Keep in mind, I've yet to wet a line unless you consider it was wet from our little dip. Back to the fishing spot and scan the water. Can't see the bottom a foot from the shore. Put on a Kastmaster with a treble hook on the end and slowly retrieve it hoping to snag the lanyard, but no such luck.
Crap, I'm fishing anyway. Out with Power Bait and Kastmasters on the other rod. suddenly a shift in wind and I see my pliers (which I didn't even know fell in) laying on the bottom, three feet off shore. I'm already wet, so I walked in and grabbed them, but no sign of my license.
In the second half of the second hour the wind started to pick up, as it usually does up there, and with wet jeans, socks, and sneakers, I started to get chilled. Packed up and headed home for a warm shower and some dry cloths.
Now I had to deal with the construction at the pass again and it was nearing 11:00am. Was I prepared for a two hour wait? Probably not, but when I got to the stop light (that is really weird having a stop light in the middle of the highway) it was green and I blew through, well I actually went slow because there was a bunch of people in front of me, and rolled down the road.
When I got home and unloaded some of the stuff, I found that my license had fallen down in front of the seat and slid under. I must have taken it off when I pulled off my t-shirt. They say your mind is the first thing to go. Want to know what the second thing is? I didn't think so.
Oh yeh, and I didn't even get a bite.
Till the next idiotic adventure.