Fishing season for me is quickly coming to an end. What makes it even shorter this year is that my truck is heading into the shop for repairs on the first Monday of November — and it’ll be gone for two or three weeks. That means I’ll have no way of hauling my kayak to the river.

The temperature isn’t doing me any favors either. I have chronic anemia and stay cold all the time. When the temperature drops below seventy degrees, I freeze. So between my truck and the chilly weather, my fishing days are numbered.

Every Saturday morning, I try to attend a one-hour Bible study at a local Methodist church. I hadn’t been for the last three weeks because of craft fairs I participated in, so I was looking forward to seeing some of the friends I’ve made over the years. But I also try to kayak-fish at least once a week — and I was desperate to squeeze in one last trip before the truck goes into the shop.

Yesterday, while waiting at the doctor’s office to have some cancer removed from my left arm, I decided to check the weather forecast and compare it with my schedule. Sunday was out — church and a meeting that afternoon. Here’s how the rest of the week looked:

• Monday: Rain in the morning, winds 5–10 mph, temps 60/51
• Tuesday: Cloudy, winds 5–10 mph, temps 63/51
• Wednesday: Rain 90%, winds 10–15 mph, temps 57/45
• Thursday: Mostly cloudy, winds 10–15 mph, temps 57/43
• Friday: Mostly sunny, winds 10–15 mph, temps 61/39
• Saturday: Partly cloudy, winds 5–10 mph, temps 66/44

If you kayak fish, you know wind speed is everything — your worst enemy on the water. Between the wind and the cold, every day looked rough. Tuesday seemed the best bet, but I had a meeting with my financial advisor that afternoon, and I didn’t want to rush the trip.

So, I made the decision: skip Bible study and hit the creek. The forecast called for a high of 79 by 2 p.m., with a low that morning of 57. Still a little cool for me, but with sunshine, I figured it would warm up nicely.

I met my good friend Rick at 6 a.m. My truck’s temperature gauge read 57 degrees as we pulled out. The creek’s about thirty minutes from my house, and as we got closer, I watched the temperature drop — 54, 50, 47… By the time we reached the boat launch, it was 43 degrees.

Now, I’m wearing shorts, a long-sleeve dry-fit shirt, and a lightweight waterproof jacket. The second I opened the door and stepped outside, I knew I’d made a mistake. But wait — it gets worse.

I unloaded all my gear, parked the truck so Rick could back in, and helped him launch his kayak. Then it was my turn. I positioned mine with the back floating and the front still on land. I straddled the kayak, sat down, and pushed myself into the creek.

My left leg went in fine. On the right side, though, I’ve got a depth finder mounted — something I’ve maneuvered around dozens of times before. But this time, as I tried to swing my right leg in, I felt the kayak start to list heavily to the left.

And over I went.

Cold water, 43 degrees, right at daybreak. I’m sure the fish got a good laugh out of it — I know Rick did.

Rick figured I’d want to pack everything up and go home, but this was my only shot at fishing before the truck went to the shop. Besides, I wasn’t that cold yet. I managed to gather up all my floating gear, climbed back into the kayak (a little more carefully this time), and finally got launched without any more drama.

I fished for about thirty minutes before the shivering started. That’s when I noticed something else — my phone was missing. I knew exactly where it was: sitting at the bottom of the creek in about four feet of water.

As the shivering got worse, Rick talked me into heading back to the launch. I conceded and paddled back to land. Once there, I spotted my phone — right where I thought it was, under four feet of creek water. It had been down there for over thirty minutes.

At first, I figured, “Why bother? It’s not going to work anyway.” But I decided to try. I waded out into the cold water, reached down for the phone… and promptly lost my balance. Down I went — again! The splash muddied up the water so badly I couldn’t even see the phone anymore.

Thankfully, Rick came to the rescue with his paddle and managed to fish it out. I picked it up, dripping wet, and hit the power button. To my surprise, the screen lit right up. The phone still worked!

Kudos to the maker of the phone case — it kept my phone completely dry

So, no fish, two dunks, one lost (and found) phone — and a story I won’t forget anytime soon.

Sometimes, the best days on the water aren’t about the catch. They’re about the laughs, the lessons, and the memories that come when things don’t go exactly as planned.