I learned I needed to watch my backcast. Whacking the deck hand once in the head with a glob of eggs is bad enough. Twice, I almost got thrown out of the boat.
Don’t mind the Lone Lake anglers. They’re typically untoward. It’s hard to sit by yourself watching an indicator for hours and not become antisocial.A few weeks ago I was on Lone Lake in a boat with my son and rowed past a group of anglers who had beached their craft and were standing around drinking and talking. I haven't met many new people here since moving from Vermont, and thought I might cleverly find out if they were folks from this forum with whom I might have interacted online. So I yelled out: "I was just telling my son that some of you might be on the flyfishing forum I like!" Their heads turned, they regarded me, one said "nice canoe" and they went back to their conversation. As I probably would have done. I'm not sure what I expected, I had made a statement not asked a question. I felt like I had made a social faux pas, but I'm not too broken up over it.
Yet out on Lone, I’m one of the most gregarious guys you’ll meet and I most definitely watch an indicator. My loud friendly nature is often times perceived as a social blunder by others, but I don’t careDon’t mind the Lone Lake anglers. They’re typically untoward. It’s hard to sit by yourself watching an indicator for hours and not become antisocial.
You just topped everyone else.Another time I took my cardigan corgi (big dog, dwarf legs) backpacking. The trail passed by the lake, and I spotted an angler about 2’ from shore but already waist-deep.
“Woah,” I said, “it gets deep fast!”
“Yeah. Cute dog!” he said, “What is it?”
Now, if you’ve ever had a cardigan corgi you know you’re constantly answering 1000 questions about them wherever you go. So, I launched into the well-practiced spiel.
“She’s a Cardigan Corgi. They’re like a regular sized dog, but stumpy legs. In fact...”
Looking at my dog, I didn’t notice that he had stepped out of the lake to come visit her.
“...Corgi literally means dwarf dog...”
I noticed then that the man was himself an actual honest-to-goodness dwarf.
What do I do? I hurriedly wondered. Do I keep going? I would for anyone else. Do I treat him differently because he has dwarfism?
Apparently I chose the third, previously unknown, option; make it waaaay more awkward.
“...so she thinks she’s a big dog, and tries to do all of the big dog things, but she’s not. Her legs are so stumpy she can hardly swim—she can barely even walk in the water ‘cause her legs are so short. It’s funny because she makes even puddles look deep.”
This was a social blunder and explains a lot!Yet out on Lone, I’m one of the most gregarious guys you’ll meet and I most definitely watch an indicator. My loud friendly nature is often times perceived as a social blunder by others, but I don’t care
But the first time I fished with @Drifter In his boat out on Crane Prairie, I really needed to poo. If you’ve fished there, You’ll know that once you are out on the lake, accessing shore again can be very difficult. My options were limited: poo my pants, hang my butt over the side or... I noticed my cooler. I took the beers out, did my business, rinsed and restocked. For some reason, he has never fished with me again since that trip, can’t imagine why.