Dad had allowed me a rowing boat, horse Evinrude take three fish and two friends, Doug and Steve for a few hours. That summer day we decided that an afternoon on the fork to the north-east of the Great Sacandaga Lake, fishing for big mouth bass. The air was heavy and humid, the sun breaks through the clouds, so as to make it uncomfortable heat. We moved a provisional anchor, a ten-inch piece of brick on a rope woven from wear and cotton dropped stillis at the bow of a rowboat fourteen years wooden foot. Expressed confidence that we all situations that may be brought to us, as could perhaps avoid a boat that sinks agree, we go beyond the limits of my father.
It 'was pretty easy going, so they were behind us, because we are as fast as a head of three horses carry us through. Anchored Placid Point hundred feet away, Doug caught earthworms small box with compost, one for each of us. We our lives as quickly as possible worms, each of us hopesThe first catch of the day and the biggest fish in the lake. We sat for about two hours without success, when we heard a faint rumble somewhere in the valleys of the Adirondacks. We continued fishing. The agreement was we would have if someone had left a treat.
Suddenly the sky turned blue and we could see flashes of light bleaching the sky above the steep hills to the right. The storm was quickly upon us. "Steve, you pull the anchor, we need to getoutta here!"
We reeled in our lines without securing hooks which dangled and swirled in the ever increasing wind. A brilliant flash of light caught us by surprise as the air crackled, followed by a sonic boom which reverberated in the canyon between the surrounding mountains, disturbing the water beneath us. Nickel sized droplets of rain fell heavy graying the blue water around us; the wind becoming ferocious.
Anchor drawn, I pulled on the starter chord, adrenaline kicking in when I realized it might not start. I stood there looking to the oars. "We're going to have to start rowing you guys or we'll be blown downwind toward the dam!" Doug didn't hesitate. We were losing ground fast in the brisk wind and oncoming short troughed, steep crested waves.
I pulled the cord one more time with a sputter. It's got to start. There's no reason why it shouldn't. Did I forget something? I choked the motor and made sure the gas fill was getting air and tried again. This time I gave it my best tug and it snapped to attention.
Buckets of water were coming into the boat over the bow and port forward quarter as we pointed home. Steve shifted to the rowing seat next to Doug to get the weight balanced, bow up. They were using the bailer we had aboard; one lone paint can passed between them to keep up with the flood of water that was threatening to scuttle us.
I thought about that possibility as I squinted into the wind and blinding rain to get a bead on the next wave, the shoreline and our forward progress. As I went to glance over Doug's left shoulder I noticed a torrent of water running down his drenched forehead, off his nose onto the rowing seat and swamped floorboards. We were moving ahead very slowly, almost as if we were in chains, the boat a third full of water. We were losing the battle.
By this time, we were in life jackets with the ties still loosened. There was no time to tend to them; we had waited too long and underestimated the power of a thunderstorm. Explosions of light continued to harass with a dazzling, frightening display of blue lightening. The air turned cold and hail pelted us with BB shot. We were soaked, shivering and tired from the strain and futility of bailing, but we continued on, lamenting and grousing with occasional bursts of displaced laughter.
As the wind eventually petered to a strong breeze and the waves were no longer capped in white, we felt relief in the knowledge that we were going to make it to home soon and that we collectively endured our first, worst storm ever, vowing never to make the mistake of granting a thunderstorm permission sneak up on us AND granting them, that is each and every one of them from then on, the respect they deserve (emphasis added).
Doug and Steve continued to bail, but their ardor was less as we steered toward the shore and home, the boat resting in the sand in the shallows. We pulled her up as high as we could, stretching the anchor line as far up the beach as it would reach.
We were soaked and exhausted and related our story to our parents as one voice. We agreed not to say anything about going to Placid Point or that we delayed in donning our life jackets. Other than that, everything was fair game for story fodder and still is. We sealed the pact in worm blood.
