The water level at the time was the lowest he ever had seen it. The lake didn't have a boat launch, so he hauled his gear to the water's edge and got his boat setup done in record time. Air temp was in the 70s, water temp in the 50s.
And Bob was thinking, "Sure, it's shallow...but, hey, low-water levels just mean the bass are all concentrated into a small area, right? I only have to avoid the rocks and play it nice and slow. With these calm and cloudy conditions, I'm excited about my chances to pull out some nice early pre-spawn monsters today."
It bears mentioning here, though, that there was one major difference between this trip and all the others Bob had made. He didn't have a partner this time.
That being said, Bob launched "Sink-O-Pottomus," the name he lovingly had attached to his Sevylor FishMaster, complete with a wooden floor ("carpeted and very swanky," according to him) and a tall bass seat in the front, with a bench in the rear. The short boat, combined with an extra-long trolling-motor handle, let him control the boat by standing behind the front seat. He leaned against the seat to cast.
The launch went without issue, other than for Bob being eyed by an angry looking duck. He climbed out of the water to the sound of applause from the casting docks, took an obligatory bow, removed the sleeve from his spinnerbait rod, and started considering where he should look for bass. Almost simultaneously...as any bass angler knows from experience...the wind began to blow.
Bob subsequently deployed his 15-pound mushroom anchor, which, not more than 10 minutes later, was bouncing along the bottom of the lake, as Sink-O-Pottomus careened toward the far shore.
"I had the trolling motor (with 50-pound thrust) going all out," he said, "and I was paddling with all I had, but the wind still was pushing me backward.
"If memory serves me correct," Bob thought, "this lake covers about 65 acres. I've never seen waves out here, except for now, and they're crashing over the front of my boat."
Soon enough, the Sevylor boat was stuck on a little rock island in the center of the lake, surrounded by water about 15 feet deep...with no control of the boat. The wind and waves were slamming him against the rocks. Bear in mind that the water was calm as glass when he had launched. And now his anchor rope had snapped (new rope, too), and his trolling motor had fallen out of the boat.
"I don't know how that happened," Bob said. "The mount and everything lifted off the Sevylor transom and dropped to the bottom. To make matters worse, a crew of folks at the far end of the lake, who had been fishing from shore, put their poles down to laugh and heckle me."
At a loss for anything constructive and embarrassed by the growing crowd of onlookers, Bob looped some stout rope around the tow ring on the front of his Sevylor and waded over to rescue his trolling motor. It was in only about 2 feet of water against the rocks, so there was no real risk.
"Once I had it on the deck," he explained, "I took hold of the rope and manually dragged my poor boat out into deeper water. By the grace of God, I managed to get myself back to the launch area...dripping wet and beet red, as the locals were letting me know how hilarious it all was from their shoreline perspective. By then, the wind had died down enough for me to deflate my boat and drag it up to the car."
As Bob was packing up, a park ranger showed up. Someone apparently had called and told him that a young guy was stranded on the rocks in the lake.
"We both had a good laugh...and I helped some young kids on the shore catch a 'monster' bass...but in the end, I didn't even wet my line.
"I will say this, too: The Sevylor proved itself today. The guys on the shore were telling me it was the boat's fault, but I couldn't have asked it to do any better, given the bad situation. Wind is a weakness with inflatables, and had I known it was going to be windy, I never would have left the shore. The boat got hammered against rocks and literally dragged over gravel, but I couldn't see that it had suffered any ill effects.
"My only real worry was how I would pull my 270 pounds into the inflatable. I don't think I could have pulled myself into a 10-foot aluminum jonboat without flipping it over. The Sink-O-Pottomus, however, didn't even bat an eye."
Bob's only regret was that he didn't get a chance to properly thank a young Middle-Eastern man who, while everyone else was heckling him, rolled up his Sunday-best pant legs, took off his shoes, and waded out knee-deep in the water to offer encouragement.
"If it weren't for him and his wife offering to call the ranger, and even offering to swim out and help, I might have lost my cool," noted Bob. "But hey, what a day!"
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