Category Archives: Kayaking

A Father’s Heart Isn’t Always Easy to Explain

31 Sunday May 2026

Posted by in Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Twins, Uncategorized

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I’m fortunate that I don’t have any doctor’s appointments this week. That doesn’t mean I’m completely free from medical matters, though. I still need to drive across town to one of my labs to pick up a copy of the results from my latest MRI, so I can take them to an orthopedic doctor next week and have him take a look at my back.

Earlier this afternoon, I received a text inviting me to go fishing tomorrow. Under normal circumstances, I probably would have jumped at the opportunity, but I had already made plans to pick up my medical records. I politely declined and told him I’d try to make it another time.

The good news is that I had already told my wife I wanted to go fishing at least a couple of times this week. I mentioned that to my daughter today, and while she has commitments every morning, she does have one afternoon available. The plan now is to spend an afternoon fishing with her and then head back out the next morning on my own. One advantage is that I’ll be able to leave all my fishing gear in the truck overnight and won’t have to unload everything until the following day.

Saturday will be spent giving my truck a thorough cleaning. I don’t want my parents riding across town in a dirty truck when we take them out to dinner that evening.

As of right now, my parents have no idea why they’ve been invited to a nice Italian restaurant. To the best of my knowledge, the daughter who’s getting engaged is still somewhat in the dark as well. She believes it’s all going to happen on the 13th. The ring won’t be a surprise—they picked that out together—but walking into a restaurant filled with family and friends who have gathered to celebrate with her afterward certainly will be.

I’m very happy for my daughter, but if I’m being honest, I’m a little scared for her too. Marriage is a life-changing step, and like every parent, I wonder if she’s ready.

She left the nest several years ago when she and her sister moved into an apartment together. At the time, it felt like a major milestone. This feels different. More permanent. More final.

I’m having a hard time putting my feelings into words. There’s joy because I’m proud of the woman she has become. There’s excitement because a new chapter of her life is about to begin. But there’s also a touch of sadness because another chapter is closing.

Maybe that’s just part of being a parent. We spend years teaching our children to become independent adults, and then one day they do exactly that. We celebrate their success while quietly realizing that they no longer need us in quite the same way they once did.

I suppose that’s what I’m feeling tonight—a mixture of happiness, pride, excitement, and just a little bit of melancholy. It’s not a bad feeling. It’s simply the realization that life keeps moving forward, whether we’re ready for it or not.

I think the strongest line in this piece is: “We celebrate their success while quietly realizing that they no longer need us in quite the same way they once did.” It captures the tension many parents feel when their children reach major milestones like engagement and marriage.

More Than Just Fishing

30 Saturday May 2026

Posted by in Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Weather

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I had the pleasure of spending a few hours fishing with one of my daughters yesterday.

The weather was less than ideal. The sky stayed mostly overcast, and we even had a brief rain shower pass through. Fortunately, it wasn’t enough to soak us, so we stayed on the water and kept fishing.

Like any fishing trip, you always hope for one of those days when the fish are biting, and everyone catches plenty. Unfortunately, this wasn’t one of those trips. I managed to catch two fish, and my daughter didn’t catch any.

I felt bad for her. It certainly wasn’t from a lack of effort. She tried hard all day, but the fish simply weren’t interested in what she was offering.

The day before our trip, I had contacted a friend who fishes that creek regularly. He gave me several suggestions on what the fish had been hitting lately. Wanting to improve our chances, I made a special trip to the tackle shop and spent what felt like a small fortune on plastic lures.

Wouldn’t you know it, the fish I caught were on an old plastic worm that had been sitting in my tackle box for who knows how long. Not one fish showed any interest in the new lures.

My daughter is still fairly new to fishing, so I’ve been letting her use one of my older rod-and-reel combinations with a Zebco 33 attached. If you’re a fisherman, you probably already know where I’m going with this. It’s pretty hard to create a bird’s nest with a Zebco 33. She used that same setup last year and caught three bass with it.

Later in the day, I asked if she’d like to try one of my spinning reels. I had four rods with me, three of them equipped with spinning reels. Within minutes, she was casting that spinning reel like she’d been using one for years. I think I may already know what I’ll be getting her for her next birthday.

At one point, I reminded her that fishing isn’t always about catching fish. It’s about being outdoors, enjoying God’s creation, and spending time with the people you care about. In this case, it was about a father getting to spend time with one of his daughters.

She’s a young adult, and I’m sure she understands that. Still, I know the trip would have been even better for both of us if she had managed to catch a few fish.

The reality is that her life is about to change. She’s getting close to becoming engaged, and before long, she’ll have a family of her own to think about. I don’t know what the future holds or how much time she’ll have available to spend fishing with her dad.

I hope she’ll still find the time.

As I get older, I’m learning that some of life’s most valuable moments aren’t measured by success, accomplishments, or even the fish we catch. They’re measured by the people sitting beside us while we’re trying.

Yesterday, I only caught two fish.

But I spent several hours with my daughter.

When I look back on the day years from now, I doubt I’ll remember much about the fish. I’ll remember who was in the small kayak next to me.

The Catfish Was Huge. My Fish? Participation Trophy Size.

14 Thursday May 2026

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I wasn’t expecting to make another post until the first of next week, but a few interesting things have transpired.

Yesterday, I went fishing with my fishing buddy Rick. The bite was extremely slow. So slow, in fact, that I honestly thought the day would end without me catching a single fish. I’ve seen funeral processions move faster than the fish were biting.

Rick decided to paddle straight to the first waterfall as soon as we launched. I stayed behind near the launch area and worked the lily pads for a while. After spending some time there without any luck, I finally decided to make my way toward the waterfall myself.

I wasn’t in any hurry, so along the way I stopped at several spots where I’d caught fish before. Nothing. Not even a courtesy nibble from a bluegill. At one point, I started wondering if the fish had all attended a secret meeting and agreed to ignore me personally.

When I finally reached the waterfall, I could see Rick already there, so I stayed along the banks to give him a little room. I was close enough to ask if he’d had any luck, and apparently he was having the same kind of miserable day I was.

Not long after I got there, I heard him paddling closer. Then I heard him call my name and say he had something to show me.

I asked if he’d caught something.

He sure had.

What he pulled out of the net surprised me. It was the biggest catfish I think I’ve ever seen in person. He asked me to weigh it since he didn’t have his scales with him. While he grabbed his phone for pictures, he handed me the fish.

That catfish weighed nearly 10 pounds.

Naturally, the only giant fish caught all day had to belong to Rick. If I had hooked that fish, people would still be hearing about it next Christmas.

Meanwhile, my luck still hadn’t changed much. I had several bites throughout the afternoon, but nothing would stay hooked. Eventually, I paddled back toward the launch area, slipped under the bridge, and fished one of the feeder creeks.

Right before it was time to head home, I finally caught one fish weighing about a pound and a half. By that point, I was so happy to catch something that I probably would’ve taken pictures with a goldfish cracker.

On the drive home, I decided to leave everything loaded in the truck and unload it the next morning.

That turned out to be a good decision.

While eating supper, I was informed that one of my daughters wants me to take her kayaking on Friday. I’m glad I didn’t unload everything. I did have to remove all the non-essential fishing gear because it won’t be needed this trip. I’ll still take my tackle box and rods because while my wife and daughter paddle around enjoying nature, I fully intend to conduct very important fishing research.

I really wasn’t planning on going back to the creek so soon. I was actually looking forward to spending some time working in my shop. But if my daughter wants to go kayaking, then I’m going kayaking. Those opportunities don’t last forever.

I haven’t told Rick I’m going back tomorrow. Otherwise, he’ll want to tag along. To me, this is more of a family outing, and I don’t want to be responsible for keeping up with my family and Rick, too.

Besides, Rick likes to stay all day. My daughter will probably be ready to head home after a few hours, especially if the weather gets hot or she runs out of snacks.

He may get a little upset that I didn’t invite him, but he’ll get over it.

And besides that… he already caught the big fish yesterday.

Screwed up Appointments, Making Sawdust, The Fish are Waiting, Meeting Boyfriends, 100 Miles of 1000 Bicycle Riders

12 Tuesday May 2026

Posted by in Amateur Radio, Arts and Crafts, Cancer, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Retirement, Uncategorized, Woodworking

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The title should say it all. It’s already been a busy week, and it’s just getting started. Read on if you want to know more.

My appointment with the dermatologist didn’t exactly go as planned.

Late Friday night, I received the automated reminder call about my surgery appointment at a completely different location. Naturally, that raised a few questions. So first thing Monday morning, I called the office to confirm everything.

The receptionist confidently informed me that my appointment was for a skin check and not surgery.

I questioned her ability to read the schedule correctly, only for her to double down and assure me that she was absolutely correct.

At that point, I had a feeling this was going to become one of those “well, this ought to be interesting” kind of days.

So, despite my suspicions, I drove the thirty minutes to the appointment. Once I got called back, I explained to the nurse that I thought there had been some kind of mistake. I told her I had previously rescheduled my surgery, and somehow the purpose of the visit had gotten mixed up.

She looked at my chart for about ten seconds before agreeing with me.

That was both satisfying and aggravating.

I told her that I had tried explaining that to the receptionist earlier, but apparently my medical degree from the University of Common Sense wasn’t enough to override the computer screen.

The nurse then informed me that if I wanted to reschedule surgery, I would have to speak with the surgery team.

That was the moment I realized surgery was definitely not happening that day.

Nothing brightens your morning quite like driving thirty minutes, burning expensive gas, and finding out you basically took a scenic tour of Alabama for no reason.

After I got home and cooled down a bit, I decided to spend some time in the workshop. I built another planter similar to the one I made for my mother. This one still needs a finish, but I’m thinking about just using shellac and letting the wood speak for itself.

Of course, now I’m already thinking about building a few more. Maybe some of the same size and a couple of larger ones, so I’ll have a little variety. I’ve also got plans for a few different planter designs I want to try.

That’s the problem with woodworking. One project turns into six more before the sawdust settles.

Tomorrow, however, is fishing day. 🐠 🎣

The kayak is loaded up and ready to go. I even modified my new measuring board by adding foam underneath it so it’ll float.

At least that’s the theory.

I also attached a cord to it because experience has taught me that “floating” and “recoverable” are two completely different things when something goes overboard in twelve feet of water.

The replacement part for my reel finally came in, so it’s fixed and ready to go, too. I’m looking forward to getting back on the water.

The rest of the week should be fairly uneventful… or at least I thought so until one of my daughters informed my wife and me that she wants us to meet her boyfriend.

That usually means things are getting serious.

For years, she was the daughter who always had a boyfriend, while my other daughter played the role of the “third wheel.” Now the tables have turned a bit since my other daughter seems to be heading toward engagement territory herself.

As a dad, it’s strange watching all this happen. One minute they’re asking for Happy Meals, and the next minute you’re evaluating boyfriends like you’re conducting job interviews.

And finally, Sunday is the annual Cheaha Challenge bicycle ride. Riders will be taking on routes exceeding 100 miles. I’ll be stationed at Rest Stop #2, handling communications via ham radio, coordinating assistance with bike repairs, and helping ensure riders can get back to the start line if necessary

There are already over 1,000 riders registered, so it’s going to be a long day. We’ll start around 7 a.m. and hopefully wrap up around 4 p.m.

Most years it’s fairly uneventful… but every now and then things can get exciting.

Let’s pray everyone stays safe and upright.

A Busy Mother’s Day Weekend

10 Sunday May 2026

Posted by in Arts and Crafts, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Uncategorized, Woodworking

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Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there!!

After completing the CERT program last Tuesday, we had our first drill at the local fire station. We spent the day going over everything we had learned during the past nine weeks. Overall, I think everyone did pretty well. However, one of our team members managed to get “electrocuted” during the simulation and had to be carried out along with the other cardboard victims.

Before anyone panics, it was all simulated. Nobody actually got electrocuted.

He was properly embarrassed, though, which is probably the best kind of lesson because I doubt he’ll make that same mistake again anytime soon. I’m not sure when our next drill will be, but hopefully it won’t be too far off. We learned a lot over those nine weeks, and at my age, if you don’t use it, you start forgetting where you put it.

I made it home with just enough daylight left to finish my mom’s Mother’s Day gift. Thankfully, most of the hard work had already been done. All I had left was to nail everything together and add the flowers. By the time I finished, though, I was more than ready to introduce myself to the recliner and heating pad for the rest of the evening.

The pain block seems to have helped a little. I think I may have overdone things yesterday and irritated my back again because I can definitely tell the difference between yesterday and today. Apparently, my back still believes I’m twenty years old right up until it sends me the bill the next morning.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll be heading in to have another spot of skin cancer removed. This one is on my right side. The last time was on my left arm, so apparently, my skin believes in equal opportunity. I’m hoping they can get it all in one visit, so I won’t have to keep going back week after week to have more cut off.

Other than that, tomorrow is my only appointment, aside from Bible study on Tuesday morning. Depending on how well my back feels, how the procedure goes, and whether the weather cooperates, I may try to sneak away and go fishing one day next week.

At this point, sitting in a boat holding a fishing pole sounds a whole lot better than sitting in another doctor’s office waiting room.

Needles, Nerves, and Alabama Weather

08 Friday May 2026

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I had a pain block in my back late this afternoon. I’ve had several pain blocks for my sciatic nerve over the years, and thankfully, they’ve worked pretty well. The doctor says it can take a day or two before you really notice the full effect, but I can already tell there’s a little improvement. At this point, I’ll take “little improvement” over “walking like a ninety-year-old penguin” any day.

I’m scheduled to go back in two weeks for another block, but apparently, Medicare has decided that anesthesia is now considered some sort of luxury item instead of a necessity. Evidently, according to someone sitting comfortably behind a desk somewhere, getting needles stuck in your spine should be considered “part of the experience.”

I’ve had sciatic nerve blocks without anesthesia before, and let me tell you, “uncomfortable” is not a strong enough word. I survived it, but I also briefly considered updating my will during the procedure. Now they want to do the back without anesthesia, too. I may discover just how brave I really am because paying $225 every visit might send me into cardiac arrest before the back pain does.

After the next pain block, the doctor wants me to have something called RFA — Radio Frequency Ablation. From what I understand, it basically involves burning the nerve endings so they stop sending pain signals. Nothing says modern medicine quite like, “Good news! We’re just going to burn part of your nerves.” I’m sure it’s perfectly safe, but the wording alone sounds like something dreamed up in a medieval torture chamber.

Apparently, though, it works well for a lot of people, so I’m trying to stay optimistic.

Of course, the moment Rick — my fishing buddy — heard I was feeling a little better, he immediately sent me a text asking if we were going fishing in the morning. That man can sense improved mobility from three counties away.

I told him no. I’m taking a day of rest and trying to finish up a couple of projects, including my mom’s Mother’s Day gift. Besides, every fish in Alabama deserves at least one day each week when they don’t have to worry about seeing my kayak floating toward them.

My Kindle still hasn’t shown up either. I’m holding off ordering another one until after Sunday, just in case some honest person found it and turns it in. I still can’t figure out how it vanished between church and home last Sunday. I’m beginning to think it either sprouted legs or was taken by the same mysterious force that steals socks out of dryers.

Thankfully, the severe storms they were predicting never really materialized around here. I’m grateful for that because storms make me extremely anxious — especially tornadic weather. I’ve never liked it, and honestly, I probably never will.

What amazes me is how some meteorologists start the “doom and gloom” forecasts ten days in advance, like they’re auditioning for an apocalypse movie. Every social media platform suddenly turns into nonstop radar screenshots, dramatic music, and phrases like “potentially catastrophic event.”

Meanwhile, the weather changes fifteen times before the storm even gets here.

Now, the meteorologist I normally watch is different. He’s a straight shooter. He doesn’t try to scare everybody half to death just to rack up clicks and views online. Some of these other weather folks act like they’ve been sitting backstage all year waiting for severe weather season so they can finally get more airtime than the sports department.

Normally, the sports guys get all the glory with football, basketball, baseball, and everything else. The weather guy usually gets about ten minutes to point at a cold front and tell us there’s a thirty percent chance of rain. But let a tornado watch pop up somewhere, and suddenly they’re on television for six straight hours living their best life.

Unfortunately, all those dramatic weather posts somehow flood my social media feeds whether I want to see them or not. And once I start seeing tornado predictions, my anxiety kicks into overdrive, and I’m ready to crawl into a hole somewhere until it all passes.

Maybe that hole needs Wi-Fi, though… especially if my Kindle never comes home.

Running on Faith, Coffee, and a Heating Pad

05 Tuesday May 2026

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Today started at 4:00 a.m.

Not because I wanted it to… but because apparently my life has decided that sleep is optional now.

I got up, got moving, and made my way across town for my 6:00 a.m. Bible study. There’s something about starting your day that early that makes you feel accomplished… and slightly confused about what day it actually is.

After that, I met up with my fishing buddy Rick for breakfast. Not long into it, my brother-in-law showed up—another fisherman, and to make things worse (or better, depending on how you look at it), he lives on the river.

So naturally, what was supposed to be a quick breakfast turned into a full-blown fishing summit.

We sat there long after the plates were cleared, swapping stories about recent trips and, of course, honoring the sacred tradition of talking about “the one that got away.” I’m convinced those fish get bigger every time we tell the story.

They started talking about the next fishing trip, and I had to sit that part out—for now. I’ve got a pain block scheduled this Thursday, and I’m hoping it gives me enough relief to get back out on the kayak soon. Because right now, the only thing I’m catching is back pain.

The afternoon was spent in the shop creating a respectable amount of sawdust, which is my way of saying I worked hard but also made a mess I’ll deal with later.

Then it was off to my CERT class this evening—our final one. For the past nine weeks, we’ve been learning how to respond in emergencies, and this Saturday is the big test and drill. Not just a written test either… we actually have to prove we’ve been paying attention.

No pressure.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I’ve been working on a Mother’s Day gift for my mom. I had a bigger idea planned, but after looking at it… and looking at it again… and then criticizing it like only I can, I decided to pivot.

My wife says it looked fine.

I say it looked like a future “learning experience.”

So I scaled it down to something simpler, and honestly, it’s going a lot better. I’ve got most of it done—just some sanding and paint left. If all goes well, I should have it finished tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow… the weather has decided to add a little excitement back into the schedule. There’s a risk of severe storms, including tornadoes.

That’s something that always hits a little differently.

Back in 2011, our town was devastated by a tornado. Our home was spared, but many weren’t. Lives were lost, and that’s something you don’t forget. So yeah, when the meteorologists start using words like “rotation” and “severe,” my anxiety tends to show up right on time.

If everything goes according to plan, I’m hoping for a little reward at the end of this week. If the pain block works, I may try to get back out on the water on Friday. After the CERT drill on Saturday, I’ll handle any last-minute touch-ups on Mom’s gift—if needed.

It’s been a long day. The kind that starts early, ends late, and somehow still feels like there’s more to do.

But it’s also been a full day.

And I’ll take that—even if it comes with a 4:00 a.m. alarm clock and a recliner waiting on standby.

Built with Love (and a Little Bit of Crooked Math)

30 Thursday Apr 2026

Posted by in Arts and Crafts, Cancer, Disability, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Leukemia, Life, Nature, Retirement, Uncategorized, Woodworking

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With Mother’s Day fast approaching, I decided it was time to push through the pain and make something for my mom. She loves plants—like, really loves plants—so I figured a couple of wooden planters would be the perfect gift. Plus, I’ve got a pile of scrap wood that’s been quietly judging me for months, including some cypress fencing material my wife has been not-so-subtly encouraging me to “do something with.”

So, around 9:30 this morning, I dragged all my equipment outside and got to work. By about 11:30, I had everything cut down to size and was feeling pretty good about life. That’s usually the exact moment things take a turn.

I started assembling the first planter and quickly realized something wasn’t right. The pieces weren’t lining up like the plans said they should. Now, the plans called for ¾-inch wood… and I’m working with ½-inch. Details, right? Apparently not. Turns out, those little fractions matter.

Still, I pressed on.

At this point, I’ve got one planter about 90% complete. It’s… let’s just say “custom shaped.” Not exactly square, which means putting the top boards on requires some math. And if you’ve followed me for any length of time, you already know—math and I are not on speaking terms. I’m pretty sure an angle finder is in my near future, the next time I wander into the store pretending I know what I’m doing.

After spending most of the day bending, lifting, and moving around, my back has officially filed a formal complaint. Sitting usually doesn’t bother me, but tonight I can’t seem to find a position that doesn’t make me question why I thought this was a good idea. The heating pad is doing its best, but the second I move, my back reminds me who’s really in charge. I took a pain pill earlier, but it’s apparently operating on its own schedule.

After looking at what I’ve completed on this planter, I’m not really happy with it. It’s one of those projects that looked a whole lot better in my head than it does sitting in front of me. So, there’s a good chance this one becomes a “keep it at the house” planter, and I’ll come up with something else for Mom.

I guess you could say this was my practice run… whether I planned it that way or not.

It all really depends on how I’m feeling after this upcoming pain block. If I can get a little relief and move around without feeling like my back is plotting against me, I may give it another shot and build something I’m actually proud to give her.

If not, well… Mom may be getting something a little less handmade and a little more store-bought this year—and honestly, she’ll probably love it just the same.

As for doctor updates, I’ve now got two appointments lined up—one with the orthopedic in mid-June and another with a pain specialist next Thursday. I’m hoping the pain specialist can help take the edge off until June gets here.

And yes, I’ll admit it… I probably shouldn’t have stayed out on that kayak as long as I did last Thursday. But I’ll still argue it was worth it. I needed that time on the water—maybe just not that much time.

Tomorrow looks like it’ll be a recliner day. I plan on catching up on my Bible study material for Tuesday morning. Theology isn’t exactly my strong suit, but I’m giving it my best shot—kind of like woodworking and math.

I also had a visit with my oncologist last week. My iron levels were low again, so they gave me a shot of Epoetin alfa to help boost my red blood cell production. They also ran my BCR-ABL1 test to check on my CML. The last several tests over the past six months have come back non-detectable, which is great news. I’m curious to see how this one turns out, though—it seems like those numbers like to keep me guessing. Should have results in a few days.

Other than that, things are pretty quiet around here. I’ll finish up that planter (eventually), survive the math, and hopefully have something worth showing for it.

I’ll check back in when I’ve got something else to write about… or when the second planter decides to humble me too.

It’s Not the End of the Road

27 Monday Apr 2026

Posted by in Cancer, Depression, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Leukemia, Life, Uncategorized

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Just a quick post.

I have Chronic Myeloid Leukemia (CML). I was diagnosed back in 2014. I’m not going to lie—when I first heard those words, I thought my world had come to an end.

I was devastated.
I got depressed.
I was angry at everything and everyone.

I couldn’t even carry on a simple conversation without it turning into something it didn’t need to be. In short, I wasn’t exactly easy to live with.

The truth is, everything I felt is something a lot of people experience when they hear the word “cancer.” That flood of emotions hits hard. But what I’ve learned since then is this—there is always hope, no matter the diagnosis.

I follow several CML groups online, and I try to help people who are just starting this journey and struggling to process it all.

Last night, I came across a post from a young woman who had just been diagnosed with CML. She was going through the same emotions I went through—fear, anger, and the overwhelming feeling that her life was over. She had just gotten married and was planning to start a family, but now she was ready to give up on that dream. Her husband, loving her the way he does, was willing to give that up, too.

That hit me.

So I reached out to her privately.

I told her what I wish someone had made crystal clear to me in the beginning: things have changed. Years ago, this diagnosis looked very different. Today, it’s not the same story.

There are medications now that can control this disease. It may not be something that just disappears, but it’s something many people live with—and live well with.

I also told her I understood exactly what she was feeling, because I had been there—the anger, the depression, the uncertainty. And I let her know she didn’t have to go through it alone.

And I told her about this blog—about my life after diagnosis, the ups and downs, the fishing trips, the everyday moments. I wanted her to see that there is still a life to live after hearing those words.

Honestly, I didn’t expect a response.

But she wrote back.

And after several messages, I could tell something had shifted. Knowing that someone else had been walking this road since 2014—and is still here—gave her a different perspective. It even made her reconsider the idea that her future, including having a family, might not be over after all.

That right there is why I share my story.

CML is not a death sentence. It’s a bump in the road. A big one sometimes—but not a roadblock.

My numbers still go up and down like a rollercoaster. Some months are good, some aren’t. But it’s been that way long enough that it doesn’t shake me like it used to.

Life goes on.

And that’s exactly what I told her—live your life. Keep your appointments. Take your medication. Listen to your doctor.

But don’t stop living.

Because this diagnosis doesn’t mean the end of your story.

An Expensive Day on the Water (and the Ones That Got Away)

25 Saturday Apr 2026

Posted by in Diabetic, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Uncategorized

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{Eidited:) This post was supposed to go out last night (Friday), but I had fallen asleep in my recliner while editing. I woke up at 3:30 this morning and decided it was time for me to go to bed.

I’ve been “offline” for several days now, and honestly, I think life has finally caught up with me.

Between attending both of my Bible study groups, keeping up with my Tuesday night training sessions, trying to stay on top of my craft work, and dealing with ongoing back pain, it’s been a lot. Probably more than I should’ve been trying to juggle all at once.

To make matters worse, I’ve been trying all week to get in touch with my doctor’s office. I’ve left several messages with his nurse and haven’t heard anything back. I know they’re in a tough spot—my doctor passed away, and his daughter is doing her best to keep the practice going—but at some point, I’d just like to know what my MRI results are and what the next steps look like.

This back pain? It’s not subtle.

If I sit with a heating pad or lie down, I’m fine. But standing, walking very far, or trying to get up out of a chair without armrests feels like I’m auditioning for a role in a slow-motion action movie… except there’s no action. Just pain.

Now, what I’m about to say might make you question my judgment. That’s okay—I’ve been questioning it myself.

Most of you know I have an early Bible study on Tuesday mornings. After that, I usually meet up with my fishing buddy for breakfast, and like clockwork, the conversation turns to one thing: When are we going fishing?

We both love it. Probably more than we should.

We’re also not exactly the healthiest guys around. He’s got heart trouble, and I’ve got my own collection of “maybe don’t do that alone” conditions. So, logically speaking, kayaking on a river by yourself probably shouldn’t make the list of good decisions.

But here’s the thing…

Before he ever got a kayak, I used to go fishing alone all the time and never thought twice about it. No worries. No hesitation. Just me, the water, and whatever fish were willing to cooperate—which, let’s be honest, wasn’t many.

After we started fishing together, though, I began to realize maybe going alone wasn’t the smartest idea. These days, I do carry a satellite tracking device that keeps up with me and lets me send messages, which sounds impressive until you realize it doesn’t paddle the kayak for you if something goes wrong.

There’s also something I hate to admit: I actually enjoy fishing alone.

There’s a peace to it. No talking. No coordinating. No “what spot do you want to try next?” It’s just quiet… and the occasional sound of me getting frustrated.

But I know if I go without him, it bothers him. Which makes it feel like I shouldn’t.

Well, this week gave me an opportunity.

He had a doctor’s appointment on Thursday, and I didn’t have anything planned. Wednesday and Friday were already booked, so Thursday became the perfect window.

And I took it.

I went fishing alone.

Now let me tell you… It was peaceful. It was quiet. It was relaxing.

It was also expensive.

Not “grabbed breakfast on the way” is expensive. I’m talking, watch your money sink into the river while you sit there helplessly, expensive.

First to go was my measuring board—about a $40 piece of equipment that decided it no longer wanted to live on this earth. One small slip, and it vanished into about 10 feet of murky water like it had been training for this moment its entire life.

I barely had time to process that loss before my brand-new fishing reel—yes, the one I had just received the day before and proudly put on my rod—decided to malfunction.

So there I am, sitting in a kayak, performing what I can only describe as back-alley surgery on a fishing reel, when suddenly the drag knob pops off.

Time slowed down.

It slipped out of my hands…
bounced once on the side of the kayak…
and with perfect aim… dropped straight into the water.

Gone.

Just like that.

I sat there for a second, staring into the water, thinking, “Did that really just happen?” Followed immediately by, “That was expensive.”

At that point, I hadn’t caught a single fish. Not even a bite.

To say I was discouraged would be an understatement. I seriously considered paddling back to the launch and calling it quits. In my mind, catching a fish had become less about enjoyment and more about trying to justify the expense of being out there.

So I stayed.

And eventually, I started catching fish.

I officially brought four bass to the boat. It took from about 6:30 in the morning until 3:45 in the afternoon—but who’s counting? (Me. I was definitely counting.)

Now, unofficially… that number should be higher.

I had several fish on the line that apparently took one look at the kayak and decided, “Yeah, I’m not doing this today.”

One by one, they shook loose like they had somewhere better to be. No goodbye. No apology. Just gone.

Honestly, my total would be a whole lot higher if I could count the ones that “got away.” But as every fisherman knows, those are always the biggest ones anyway. If you ask me tomorrow, I’m pretty sure at least two of them will have been record-breakers.

By the end of the day, I was worn out, a little sore, and slightly poorer than when I started.

Was it worth it?

Financially? Not even close.

Physically? My back has been filing complaints ever since.

But somehow… I still had a good time.

I’ve already ordered a new measuring board, and it should be here before my next trip. The reel? Well, we’ll just say I learned some valuable lessons about fixing things over open water.

I’m not entirely sure there’s a clear moral to this story.

Maybe it’s that sometimes things don’t go your way. Sometimes they go really wrong. And sometimes they cost you more than you planned.

But even then, you can still find a way to enjoy the day.

Or maybe the lesson is this:

If you’re going to lose expensive equipment… at least catch a few fish to make yourself feel better about it.

And maybe—just maybe—next time I’ll tie everything down.

…or bring my buddy so he can watch it happen.