Welcome back yak fans. Learning from our (pronounced “my”) mistakes: Fishing one of my favorite trout holes, I was anchored in about four feet of water when I decided it was time to shift over a little and went to pull in my anchor, which of course was stuck fast. So, in this situation, rule number one is to let out more line and back paddle. About 90% of the time, this will free you up. Well, you guessed it, I made the 10%. But, I was not stopped dead in my tracks. “OK,” I thought, “time for Plan B.” Let out more line, grab it and pull it loose from above. Here the sad story begins. As I got the line snagged, still stuck, I had this little problem. I should explain that since childhood, I have suffered from an affliction of NBA (No Butt at All). To compensate for this debilitating condition, I have a fancy padded seat with a foam donut and seat cushion. This puts my posterior at ease, but places me about two inches above the normal center of gravity of the boat. As I snagged the line, the tide twisted me and, yes, for the first time in five years, I flipped the yak. And of course, being an experienced kayaker, I did not need to have my cell phone or my keyless entry in a dry bag. As I turned and caught the boat before it completely flipped, I watched as the assortment of loose stuff was floating away. My cell was buzzing like a razor in my pocket and, as I did inventory, I saw that I was missing two rods from the boat as well as pliers, etc. So, with over $600 worth of gear on the bottom and my stuff floating away, herein lies the lesson: I immediately snagged the anchor line, took off my vest and retrieved the floaters.
The important point here is, if this ever happens to you, drop the anchor or stake immediately. If you drift a couple of yards, your stuff is gone! As it was, I threw the gear back in the boat, took off my shoes and started from the front and then I let my toes feel around the mucky bottom and walked the boat in a circle until I hit pay dirt. Once I found the scene of the crime, I resurrected both of my new Fenwick rods and even found my pliers.
The real interesting point of the story is what I was snagged on. Some idiot had dumped a tire in the middle of the Bay so, when I back paddled, my anchor slid around inside and would not come loose. To this person, I wish, like the old song goes, “may the bird of paradise fly up your nose, may an elephant caress you with his toes, etc., etc.” Hey buddy, your village is calling. Their idiot is missing. That’s it for now. If you have a fishing report or a good story, let me know. Meanwhile, the cobia hunt continues. See ya’ on the water.