Things that go bump in the lake

Lake Kasshabog rocks! (If you don’t think so, check out the bottom of your boat) Midsummer is here and the lake levels are finally falling. This is not necessarily a good thing because now we can see those rocky teeth that have been lurking just below the surface - rocky teeth waiting to bite our boats and bust our props. Did we really come that close? Kosh, The Lake of Many Passages, is a lake full of shoals that will bite you when you least expect it. Way out in the middle of the widest part, hundreds of yards from any shore you must be vigilant. As you race joyously flat-out at top speed, in your path you’ll see a sudden golden gleam, and if you’re lucky you’ll have time to swerve off or at least to cut the throttle and slide over the shoal. Most of us know this water, but we all had to learn somehow, didn’t we? My turn to learn came one week after my brand new bass boat was delivered, some 33 years ago. It was early season and the red markers weren’t in yet. And I was new to the lake. One moment it was glorious full speed over open water far from any shore, the next it was heart attack time as the grinning shoal opened its mouth. I shall never forget the sound of the lower unit striking the rocks and my prop shredding its blades. Or the grin on Bob Knox, the mechanic’s, face as I limped into the marina. That’s our lake; to survive here you must be smart, be observant, and experienced. Come clean, dear readers, and tell me about the rocks you've tattooed with your costly lower unit. I know you're out there, tell us your stories. Here’s one: Just last week a giggle of girls in teeny weenie bikinis ran their pontoon boat through waters that no one with a double-digit IQ would cross at any speed. One of the things I love about Rebel’s Isle is how knowledgeable boaters give it a wide berth as it is surrounded by shoals, obvious no-go zones. But there are always the ignorant few. Every year at least one boat will blow through at speed and hit a rock with that sickening sound, a loud CLUNK punctuated by the sudden silence of the motor. Such was the fate of the fair ladies. If the motor was silent, the young ladies certainly weren’t. Much discussion followed that had I not known what was going on, I would have thought a flight of geese was passing low overhead. After deep examination of the problem - one of them actually tilted the motor up to have a look - they concluded all was well enough for them to wobble on. I’m glad they were going slow, just cruising, and that other than the shock of hitting the rock they were none the worse. I was also somewhat conflicted, glad they were okay, and glad I didn’t have to get in my boat and tow them to a safe port. But, on the other hand, the prospect of coming valiantly to the aid of the fair ladies had a certain appeal. My hero! I got over it. The girls motored on, hopefully wiser for the experience. And I went back to my beer with my inner voice muttering “Grow up Paul.” I replied to my inner voice, “Grow up? I did that already, and frankly, I find maturity is vastly overrated”. Still working on wisdom, I’ll let you know how that goes. But send me your stories, this could be fun.