Tag Archives: kayak

A Fishing Trip Full of Unwanted Surprises

30 Wednesday Sep 2026

Posted by in Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Retirement, Uncategorized, Weather

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Rick and I arrived at the launch before the sun had even decided it was time to get out of bed. It was still dark enough that I had to use my little pin light to load the kayak.

It was around 55 degrees, which is pretty darn cool for me. I know there are people who think 55 degrees is perfect fishing weather, but I’m not one of those people. My problem with wearing a jacket is that I know what’s going to happen. The temperature will eventually climb high enough that I’ll want to take it off, and then I have to find somewhere to store it.

Kayak storage is a precious commodity. There’s only so much room for fishing rods, tackle, food, drinks, and all the other stuff I have convinced myself I absolutely need.

So, I decided to take my jacket off and put it back in my truck. Unfortunately, I had already put my truck keys in my dry bag.

That put a little wrinkle in my plan.

I decided to just put the jacket behind my seat and deal with it later.

Rick wanted to paddle about a mile and a half downstream to what we call the “second waterfall” to start his fishing expedition. It’s one of two spillways that drain from a settling pond created by the coal mining company that owns the land.

I had a different plan.

I wanted to fish on the other side of the bridge near the launch site because I had a brand-new topwater lure I was anxious to try.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I had changed all of my fishing lines to braided line with a five-to-seven-foot fluorocarbon leader. I use a double Uni knot to join the two different lines together.

The double Uni knot works great on a spinning reel because the eyelets on those rods are fairly large. Unfortunately, baitcasting rods have much smaller eyelets, and the knot has a tendency to get hung up when it passes through them.

My new topwater lure was attached to one of my baitcasting reels.

On my very first cast, I noticed the knot hitting the eyelet at the end of the rod. I immediately thought, “This could become a problem.”

Then, on that same first cast, a fish boiled up at the lure but didn’t actually take it.

My heart jumped.

Fish on the first cast? Well, sort of.

I cast back toward the same general area, hoping I could convince the fish to give me another chance. The sound of my lure hitting the water just inches from my kayak told me something had gone terribly wrong.

I knew immediately what had happened.

The reel had backlashed.

And not just a little.

I had created a bird’s nest that probably could have provided shelter for an entire family of birds.

I took the topwater lure off that rod and grabbed another baitcasting combo. I swapped the lure over and made another cast.

When I reeled it in, something didn’t feel right. It was unusually difficult to turn the handle. I made a few adjustments to the drag and cast the lure back out.

Almost immediately, a fish came flying out of the water and grabbed it.

Finally!

I set the hook and started reeling.

Except the more I turned the handle, the harder it became to turn.

Within a couple of seconds, the reel completely stopped working.

Apparently, my fishing equipment had decided it was going to participate in the adventure too.

I laid the rod down in the kayak, grabbed the fishing line with my hands and started pulling the fish in manually.

I could tell it was a good-sized fish because every time it dove toward deeper water, the line dug into my hands.

Eventually, I got the fish close enough to see it.

That’s when I noticed something else.

The lure wasn’t in the fish’s mouth.

It was hooked in the side of the fish just beyond the gills.

I managed to get the fish close enough to lip it, pulled it into the kayak and removed the hook.

The fish weighed nearly three pounds.

I was pretty happy about that.

After releasing the fish, I changed out the broken baitcasting reel for a spare and put the topwater lure on it.

The very next cast, another fish grabbed the lure.

It jumped completely out of the water, apparently just to make sure I knew it had been hooked.

At that point, I was thinking this might turn into one of those days where I caught a multitude of fish.

That didn’t happen.

That was the last fish I caught on the topwater lure.

I ended the day with three fish total—two on the topwater lure and one on a plastic worm.

The wind eventually picked up, making it difficult to keep the kayak in one place. Anyone who has fished from a kayak knows that once the wind gets strong enough, you stop fishing and start operating a very inefficient watercraft.

I fished until nearly 11:00 a.m. and then started making my way back toward the launch.

I arrived around 11:45 and beached the kayak. As I was getting into my truck to start loading everything, I saw Rick paddle his way toward the launch.

He told me he had caught seven or eight fish.

Seven or eight.

I had caught three.

And the really irritating part was that Rick hadn’t spent the morning fighting backlashes, replacing reels, or wrestling with fishing equipment that appeared to be plotting against him.

I was a little jealous, to say the least.

But the excitement wasn’t over.

Not even close.

I use a simple paracord latching system to secure my kayak to my truck. I hook one end to one side of the truck, run the cord through the handle on one side of the kayak, pull it over my fishing rods, run it through the handle on the other side and connect it to the other side of the truck. Then I cinch everything down tight.

I’ve used this system for years and never had a problem.

Until this day.

About halfway home, I heard a loud thump.

I immediately looked in the rearview mirror.

I didn’t see my camera pole.

My first thought was that it had somehow come loose and fallen off the truck.

I pulled over in someone’s yard and jumped out to see what was going on.

That’s when I discovered something slightly more important than my missing camera pole.

My kayak was gone too.

The thump I had heard wasn’t my camera pole hitting the road.

It was my kayak bouncing off the bed of my truck and landing on the pavement.

Apparently, my kayak had decided it had enough of being transported and wanted to see the world on its own.

I jumped back into the truck, looked around to make sure nobody was coming and quickly turned around.

It didn’t take long to find my kayak.

It was partly in the middle of the road and partly in someone’s front yard.

I pulled over across the road, got out and immediately noticed something else.

My fishing rods were nowhere to be found.

They had apparently decided to go on their own adventure too.

I grabbed the kayak, dragged it across the road and managed to get it loaded back onto the truck.

I turned on my emergency flashers and started walking down the road looking for my missing equipment.

Eventually, I found all five of my rods scattered along the side of the road.

I was extremely lucky.

There was no one directly behind me when the kayak decided to disembark.

Had someone been following closely, this story could have ended with me explaining to an insurance company why my kayak decided to attack somebody’s vehicle.

When I got home, I unloaded everything from the kayak so I could turn it over and inspect the damage.

Other than some scuff marks where it had hit the pavement, the kayak actually looked to be in pretty good shape.

Of the five rods that went flying, two sustained some damage to the eyelets. I’ll have to make some adjustments to them before I can use those rods again.

After looking over the tie-down system, I think I figured out what happened.

When I pulled the paracord tight, the knot apparently worked its way through the cam. Once that happened, the rope loosened and the kayak was free to make its great escape.

I’ve made what I hope is a simple correction.

I’ve added a second knot to the line so that if the first knot somehow works its way through the cam again, the second knot will catch it.

At least that’s how it works in theory.

And as I’ve learned from this particular fishing trip, theory and actual fishing don’t always have a lot in common.

I went fishing expecting to catch some fish.

Instead, I caught three fish, broke a reel, created a bird’s nest, damaged two fishing rods and watched my kayak take itself for a ride down the highway.

Rick caught seven or eight fish.

I’m pretty sure he had the better day.

But I did get home with my kayak.

So I guess there’s that.

When Plans Change in an Instant

17 Friday Jul 2026

Posted by in Family, Kayaking, Life, Uncategorized

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It doesn’t matter how carefully you make your plans—one phone call from one of your parents can change everything in the blink of an eye.

I had planned on going fishing today. It had already been a challenge just getting ready. I had a meeting Thursday night, so I wasn’t able to load my kayak until I got home late. I loaded everything else beforehand, leaving only the kayak for when I returned.

We’re also down to one vehicle right now, so after my physical therapy session, I needed to take my wife grocery shopping. Then I had to drive across town to exchange my shoes before I could even think about heading to the water.

Then the phone rang.

It was my mom.

She told me my dad had fallen outside. According to her, there was blood everywhere. She had already called 911, and the paramedics were on their way to take him to the emergency room.

I left the house immediately. I got to the ER so quickly that I actually arrived before the ambulance did.

A short time later, my mom and my nephew arrived, and Dad came in around the same time. He had a pretty nasty gash on his forehead that had cut open a blood vessel. He also broke his nose and badly bruised his right arm.

My sister arrived shortly afterward, and then came the waiting. Anyone who has spent time in an emergency room knows that waiting is just part of the process.

After about two hours, I knew Dad was stable and being well cared for. Since there wasn’t much more I could do, I left to attend my meeting.

A couple of hours later, after the meeting ended, I called to check on everyone. Thankfully, they were already back home.

I called Dad again this morning, and I’m happy to report that he had a good night. He’ll see a doctor on Tuesday to have his broken nose evaluated. I offered to take him, but my nephew may be able to do it. We’ll know for sure in the next couple of days.

Days like yesterday are a reminder of how quickly life can change. One minute you’re thinking about fishing, and the next you’re sitting in an emergency room with your family.

I’m just thankful the outcome wasn’t worse. At 87 years old, a fall can be life-changing. God was watching over Dad, and for that, I’m incredibly grateful.

Time to Take a Break From Life

03 Wednesday Jun 2026

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

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Time to take a break from life.

Tomorrow, I’m heading to the river to spend some time resting, fishing, and gathering my thoughts before I go completely nuts. It’s been a rough week.

If you’ve ever had to deal with AT&T, you probably understand my frustration. This is just one of the many things I had to deal with this week. The others will come in a later post.

When you call or chat with technical support these days, you’re often not dealing with a person at all. You’re dealing with AI. I’ll be the first to admit that AI can be useful, but it isn’t nearly as smart as some people think. It’s only as good as the people who program it.

If it doesn’t understand what you’re asking, it tends to circle back to a previous question, and before long, you’re stuck in an endless loop that eventually ends with the chat session closing without warning. And if you’re hoping to speak with a live person, you had better pack a lunch and prepare for a long wait.

This whole saga started last Friday when my dad asked me to come by on Saturday and help connect a new router that AT&T had sent him. According to them, the old router was bad.

As it turned out, the router wasn’t the problem at all.

Dad had already spent time with technical support trying to resolve the issue. Nothing they suggested worked. He asked repeatedly for a technician to come out, but AT&T seemed convinced that he could solve the problem himself. Eventually, they simply disconnected the call.

That’s where I entered the picture.

Friday evening, I spent an hour and a half trying to reach a live agent. After finally getting through, I was able to schedule a service appointment for Monday between noon and 5:00 p.m.

Monday came and went.

By 6:30 that evening, it was obvious that nobody was coming.

I then spent three and a half hours on hold trying to speak with someone, only to have my phone battery die before I ever reached an agent.

I called back and scheduled a callback for 9:00 the next morning. By 10:00, nobody had called.

Once again, I called AT&T and sat on hold for about an hour before finally reaching a representative.

To his credit, he was polite and listened patiently as I explained everything we had been through. By this point, the appointment had been moved to Friday, and Dad had discovered that the real problem wasn’t the modem at all. Phone lines in the area had apparently been cut—or possibly stolen—which explained why nothing was working.

I told the representative that, in my opinion, customer service had lost sight of the customer. If customers were truly important, there would be a way to speak with a real person without spending hours fighting through automated systems and AI chatbots.

There are some problems that technology simply can’t fix. Sometimes people just need to talk to another person.

The representative assured me that our conversation was being recorded and that he would escalate the issue. He said someone from AT&T would contact me regarding our experience, although it might take a week or two.

We’ll see.

After dealing with all of this, I am emotionally drained. The one thing I’m proud of is that I managed to keep my cool throughout the entire ordeal. I could have unloaded my frustration on the representative, but I knew he wasn’t responsible for what had happened. He was simply the person caught in the middle.

So tomorrow morning, Rick and I will launch the boat around 5:30 and spend a few hours on the river.

At this point, I honestly don’t care whether I catch a fish.

What I need is some peace and quiet. I need time away from hold music, automated systems, and frustration. I need to be reminded of who is really in charge.

And for me, there are few better places to find that reminder than sitting on a river at daybreak, watching God’s creation wake up around me.

Sometimes the best therapy isn’t found in an office, on a phone call, or behind a computer screen.

Sometimes it’s found on the water.

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.

Needles, Nerves, and Alabama Weather

08 Friday May 2026

Posted by in Arts and Crafts, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Photography, Retirement, Uncategorized, Weather, Woodworking

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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.

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.

Hidden in Plain Sight

19 Sunday Apr 2026

Posted by in Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Uncategorized

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The mind can play some terrible tricks on you.

Sometimes it convinces you that you saw something that wasn’t there. Other times, you can look straight at something—multiple times—and somehow never actually see it. I can’t explain it, but I’ve experienced it enough to know it’s real.

The other day, I wrote about my wife and I panic cleaning the house. In the process, I moved several things to what I thought were “safe places.” You know the kind—those spots that make perfect sense at the time but completely betray you later.

One of those items was a set of red flags I bought for the back of my kayak. They’re there to warn drivers that I’ve got a load sticking way out past the truck bed. Bright red. Hard to miss… or so you’d think.

Well, those flags disappeared.

I tore this house apart looking for them. I knew exactly where I put them. I knew the room. I knew the box. I checked that box more times than I can count. Opened it, moved things around, looked carefully… and every single time, nothing.

Gone.

Now, I’ve been down this road before. When I can’t find something after a while, I usually just give up and buy another one. That’s the reason I own more tape measures than any one man should. Same goes for hammers. I’m pretty sure I’ve got at least 15 scattered throughout this house.

At any given moment, I can find four of each.
At other times… not a single one.

It never fails.

So while packing for my fishing trip, I gave up on the flags and moved on. I grabbed my Nikon camera, put a fresh battery in it, set the time and date, and placed it in a Ziploc bag along with a notepad and pen so I could keep everything together.

Or so I thought.

Because when I got to the river… the bag and the camera were nowhere to be found.

Now I’m standing there wondering how something can vanish between my house and my truck. Later on, I start searching again—this time for the camera.

And guess what I found?

The flags.

Right there.
In the same box.
In the same room.
In the exact spot I knew I had already searched.

I didn’t just glance in that box—I looked in it. More than once. And somehow, I never saw them.

But the moment I stopped looking for them… there they were.

At this point, I’ve just accepted it. There’s no explaining it. The mind sees what it wants to see—and sometimes, it refuses to see what’s right in front of it.

So tomorrow, I’ve got a plan.

I’m going to look for something else entirely. Maybe a missing tape measure or one of those fifteen hammers. And if history repeats itself, I’ll stumble across that camera and Ziploc bag like it’s been sitting there the whole time… just waiting for me to notice it.

Because apparently, that’s how this works now.

Three Fish, No Paddle, and a Power Line… What Could Go Wrong?

17 Friday Apr 2026

Posted by in Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Photography, Uncategorized

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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.

The 4AM Gamble: What Did I Forget This Time?

15 Wednesday Apr 2026

Posted by in Arts and Crafts, Fishing, Kayaking, Photography, Retirement, Uncategorized

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The long-awaited day finally arrives tomorrow.

At 4:00 a.m., my alarm will go off, signaling the start of a long—but hopefully rewarding—day. I’ll roll out of bed, grab some breakfast, and head out to meet my fishing buddy at his place by 5:30.

But before I ever get to the water, today was about preparation.

After spending hours out in the heat working on crafts, I came home and shifted gears—loading up the kayak, rods, and every piece of electronics I’ll need. I made sure batteries were fresh, gear was in place, and all safety equipment was accounted for. Or at least… most of it.

Ever since the great Easter weekend cleanup (or “panic clean,” if we’re being honest), there are still a few things that seem to have vanished into thin air. I had a feeling that once I started moving everything around, I’d forget where I put something important.

I was right.

A few weeks ago, I bought some proper red safety flags for the back of my kayak—bright, reflective, and actually visible. In Alabama, anything over 12 feet is supposed to have a red flag attached, and my old solution—a once-red rag—is now so faded it looks more like a tired brown surrender flag than anything useful.

And of course… I can’t find the new ones.

I know how this story ends. I’ll stumble across them one day while I’m tearing the house apart looking for something else I can’t find. That’s just how it works.

But missing flags or not, I’m determined to make the most of tomorrow. A good day on the water doesn’t come from perfect preparation—it comes from being there.

Somewhere in between all of that, I’ve also got a craft fair coming up Saturday. Today, despite the heat, I managed to put together a couple of new trial pieces—a rustic serving tray and a small hanging planter. I didn’t go all in on them just yet. No sense in making a dozen of something if nobody wants one.

But if they sell? I’ll be making more.

There’s something satisfying about working with your hands—whether it’s shaping wood into something useful or casting a line and waiting on that tug. Different kind of work, same kind of reward.

Tomorrow, I’m hoping for both.

Gone Fishin’… Mentally. Physically at the Doctor’s Office

01 Wednesday Apr 2026

Posted by in Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Retirement, Uncategorized, Weather

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Have you ever hit one of those stretches where you really want to do something—but life just keeps stacking the deck against you?

That’s me right now… and fishing.

The weather—well, the temperature at least—has been absolutely perfect. The kind of weather that makes you start mentally packing your gear before you even finish your morning coffee. I’ve been itching to get the kayak in the water.

But of course… It’s never that simple.

First, there’s the wind.

For the last ten days, the wind has been doing everything except cooperating. Now, sure, you can go kayak fishing in the wind… if you enjoy turning your peaceful fishing trip into a CrossFit session. Unless you’re on the water at daybreak, you’ve got a very small window before the breeze turns into a personal trainer yelling, “Paddle harder!”

Nothing quite like trying to hold your spot while questioning your life choices.

But honestly, the wind isn’t even the biggest problem.

Even if the water was as smooth as glass, my schedule has been anything but.

I’ve had something going on nearly every day—mostly doctor appointments. And just when I think I’ve finally got a free day lined up, my phone rings with, “Hey, just a reminder…” At this point, I’m convinced my calendar is just a suggestion, not a plan.

Case in point—I went to the doctor the other day about my back. For years, I thought it was just normal wear and tear… turns out my back has apparently been keeping secrets. Not the fun kind either.

So I finally spot a window. Tomorrow morning? Perfect fishing opportunity. The wind isn’t supposed to pick up until around noon. I’m already picturing that first cast.

Then the phone rings.

It’s the doctor’s office.

“Your MRI is scheduled for tomorrow.”

Of course it is.

So instead of being out on the water trying to catch fish, I’ll be lying perfectly still inside a giant tube while it takes pictures of all the bad decisions I’ve made with my back over the years. Honestly, if that machine could talk, it’d probably just shake its head and say, “Yeah… you probably shouldn’t be kayak fishing either.”

At this point, I’m not even sure what’s more out of alignment—my schedule or my spine.

Looking ahead to next week, it’s the classic tease. The temperature is supposed to drop again early in the week, then warm back up later. But it’s too far out to know what the wind’s going to do… and at this point, I’m convinced it’s working with my doctor.

One of these days, everything is going to line up—the weather, the wind, my schedule… and hopefully my back.

And when it does, those fish better be ready.

Because I’ve got ten days’ worth of missed fishing—and a medically questionable spine—ready to hit the water.