[Photo by Luke Bays on Unsplash]
As many of you know, I’ve been fishing my whole life. However, there was a long pause. When I went to college and then got married to a city girl, the fishing went away for quite a while. I’m not unusual in that regard. I was focused on getting an education, getting a career going and developing my long term relationship with my new wife. Many people go through that. Then, as you settle down a bit, you make time and you go back to the little things you used to enjoy like motorcycles, boating or fishing (or whatever you enjoyed as a child).
Once I got out of grad school, I started working in the Vinita, Oklahoma area. Our small firm consisted of two older partners and one other young associate my age who liked to fish (we’ll call him John). John planned a trip for us to go fishing one Friday evening after work. It was a hot, humid, late summer day (if I remember right – anyway it was hot and humid). He’d gotten permission for us to go on someone’s land where there was a farm pond, allegedly loaded with bass. So, off we went.
To understand the situation, you had to know John was a single guy who had never stopped fishing. He was in better shape than me and was very comfortable with his outdoor ability. I was out of shape, was uncomfortable with the gear I had, I didn’t know the area and I was dressed too much like a college grad and not like an outdoorsman. I had walking shoes, not boots on. I had jeans, not shorts or something light and breathable on.
As we got to the property that we’d be fishing on, I realized that the farm pond was not near the road. Further, John didn’t know exactly where it was on the property. He got us to the property and then we had to hike into the woods through briars, weeds, broken tree limbs, stumps, holes, poison ivy, ticks, fleas, spiders and other potential pitfalls (including risk of snakes) trying to locate the special pond he’d been told about.
After traipsing through the woods for well over half an hour, we finally located said pond – or “a” pond anyway. I was out of shape, hot and tired, and not dressed or prepared for the situation, but I was up for the fun. Now we could fish. Then I began to realize how long it had been since I’d fished. I had to remind myself how to tie a lure on. I had to relax and practice basic casting. I got the start-up issues out of the way and got to casting. No luck on the cleared end of the pond, so we decided to work our way around the brush and find any other spot we could to cast in.
Within the first half hour, John caught the only fish we’d catch that day, a nice 3 lbs. bass. Of course, we didn’t know it would be the only fish we’d catch that day. However, it did motivate us to push our way around that pond.
I didn’t want to lose ground to John, so I started pushing my way around the pond harder. I was trying to find anywhere I could get closer to the banks of the pond through the weeds and briars. After we’d walked around two thirds of the pond I got too comfortable. I started moving around the back side of the pond in the brush, weaving my tackle box and rod through outstretched limbs and thorns — and then it happened. I stepped into a small hole that was hidden under leaves and grass and full of mud and water and weeds (and unbeknown to me – full of poison ivy).
The fall hurt and my ankle was tweaked. It was a slight sprain, but no breaks and I could still walk – barely. My pride wouldn’t let me show quite how bad it was, so I fought through and continued to attempt to fish, but I was a mess. I couldn’t walk very well at all. I couldn’t stand too easily either. I was filthy dirty from the fall and the hole now. I was in pain and I was all wet and muddy from the upper thigh down. But, I was fishing, so I stayed at it.
We tried for another forty five minutes or so to no avail. The sun was getting low and I think John started to be concerned about my ability to walk out on my own power. He suggested that we head out and I didn’t argue.
As we headed out I began to notice how itchy my legs were getting. I knew better than to scratch them and exacerbate the situation. When I got home and got to take a hot shower, it was obvious that the hole I fell into had been loaded with poison ivy. I had it up and down my legs and arms. I got medical attention resulting in some helpful meds, but it took a few days for the itch to wear off even with the meds. My wife asked if I wanted to go fishing again after that experience.
“Of course,” I replied with a grin, “It’s just a little poison ivy and an ankle sprain! “ I didn’t go right away, but the opportunities came and I’ve always enjoyed a good fishing trip. Even a hard day’s fishing is more fun than being trapped in the office!
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Try the next story in this series: Tales from Oklahoma #2: Rat Snake on Campus!
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