I survived the day on the river.
Well… define survived.

I caught three fish—two bass and one respectable catfish. Now, before you start picturing a highlight reel, let me bring you back to reality. One bass weighed a solid 0.84 pounds… which I’m pretty sure still qualifies as “aspiring fish.” The other came in at 1.61 pounds, which officially made it the “big one” of the day.

Not exactly bragging rights, but hey—it beats going home empty-handed and lying about the one that got away.

It was a long day on the water with not much to show for it, but honestly, that wasn’t really the point. Sometimes you just need to get out there, clear your head, and enjoy the quiet… even if the fish aren’t cooperating.

Now, my back?
My back has a completely different opinion about how enjoyable that day was.

This morning, it feels like I tried to wrestle a gator instead of fish for bass. I’ve been eyeballing a muscle relaxer like it’s the answer to all my problems, but if I take it, I might as well cancel the rest of the day—and I’ve got a craft fair to prep for. So for now, I’m choosing pain and responsibility over relief and a nap. Questionable decision.

My fishing partner had a better day—at least numbers-wise. He caught six fish: two panfish and four bass. Of course, he forgot his scale… again. At this point, I’m starting to think it’s intentional.

And the pictures? Let’s just say if blurry fish photos were a sport, he’d be sponsored. Half the pictures cut the fish off, and the other half look like they were taken during an earthquake.

But the real adventure didn’t start until we tried to leave.

I got back to the launch first and was greeted by a couple of contractors from Alabama Power. They had seen me pull up and came over to talk. Between the language barrier and a lot of hand gestures, I gathered they were stringing a new power line right where I was and wanted me to move.

I explained I was waiting on my buddy… who, by the way, had forgotten his paddle.

Now, before you panic, he’s got a pedal kayak, so getting around wasn’t the issue. Getting out of the water, however, would require a little teamwork—and preferably someone who actually had a paddle.

The contractors weren’t thrilled, but they had little choice but to wait.

When my buddy finally showed up, I filled him in. We got him out of the water and were told it would be about a 20-minute delay.

Forty-five minutes later, it became clear that “20 minutes” was more of a suggestion than a timeline.

So we did what any tired, slightly irritated fishermen would do—we handled it ourselves and loaded up anyway. I noticed the line they were stringing didn’t even have power running through it yet, which made the whole situation even more confusing. But at that point, we were done asking questions.

We loaded up and hit the road.

And immediately got stuck behind a slow-moving truck hauling what looked like half a construction site.

What should have been a 45-minute drive home turned into an hour and a half. Because apparently, the universe decided the day just wasn’t quite long enough yet.

Now here I am the next morning, back aching, truck still needing to be unloaded and reloaded for the craft fair, and wondering why all my hobbies seem to come with a recovery period.

Yesterday had its share of hiccups, but it was our first trip of the regular season. Gear was misplaced, things were forgotten, and clearly, we’re a little rusty.

But now that we’ve got the first trip out of the way, everything should be back where it belongs.

At least… that’s the plan.

And next time, we might even remember the paddle.