Plan B. Those proverbial two words every angler or anyone for
that matter don’t want to hear or utter. In light of recent storms and upcoming
tournament I thought I would sit back and reflect on how important “Plan B”
should be.
I, as most of us kayak anglers, attempt to get out as much
as humanly possible. So when a good friend asks if you want to fish a private
lake loaded with big, fat mama’s you don’t decline. Which is the case of my
last outing. I most of my fishing exploits begin I was lazily sitting watching
TV early in the week relaxing from not only from a grueling previous week of
work but also my recent tournament on Patoka, which her and I have much
unfinished business. You know what you did! Anyway, as I sit enjoying whatever
brain rotting smut is on the tube I receive a text from good buddy and fellow
Bass Crazy nut, Chad. He informs me that there is an awesome private lake
loaded with fish and would I be inclined to join him on the adventure. Like a
child getting asked if he would want ice cream for dinner I excitedly said yes.
As the week progressed and the rains fell in central Indiana, close to a week
straight I paid little attention. For rain while on a lake is no big to me,
just another day on the water. Rain on my river days, we got a problem. Friday
rolls around, another text from Chad.
“Looks like rain tomorrow.”
“And?” I reply
“Oh, nothing just though you would like to know before you
drive down.”
“Nope, I’m good. No lightening and gale force winds. I’m
sound as a pound. Besides we’ve had approximately 6 days of straight rain, what’s
one more day?”
“Awesome, see you in the morning.”
4 am comes quick when you can’t sleep. But, unlike work days
I pop out of bed and ready myself for the day without hitting the snooze,
cursing at the time or drag to get ready, for there are fish to be had. Being
the ultra-prepared I fisherman I am, I was loaded up the night before, so a
quick turn of the ignition and off I go. Upon arrival it was quite clear that
they had received some pretty severe storms that we did not, but again lake, no
worries. With all meetings of fisherman there is a ritual exchanging of formalities.
After the greetings I am informed we are
still awaiting the arrival of our third cohort, who apparently unlike every
other fisherman I know is good friends with his snooze button. Chad and I
finally get tired of discussing fishing, the tournament on Patoka and our
upcoming project and decide to head out and Sleeping Beauty will meet us there.
As we whipped and winded through the back roads of rural southern Indiana it
was very clear just how bad the storms were the night before. Several spots of
high water, downed trees and all around windblown carnage. We finally arrived
at the crossroad to salvation. All that separated us from fat bottom girls and
heart ache was a right turn. We quickly noticed a couple of vehicles on either
side of a rather large puddle that had formed over the road. Now I am no
stranger to high water and I have done some crazy things in the past so I got
this. Upon further investigation into the situation I happened to notice a
mailbox, or what I can only assume was a mailbox as much of it was underwater.
It was at that moment the realization that “I got this!” turned to “HOLY S***
THAT’S SOME DEEP WATER!” To both Chad and I’s amazement we sat and watched a
rather large diesel take on what I’m referring to Heartbreak Lake. He slowly
and cautiously forded through, to which the water rose to roughly halfway up
the door. It was apparent we’re not going that way. Quickly the phones came out
and an alternate route was the goal much to no avail. So just like that hopes,
dreams, ambitions and whatever other thoughts of joy were gone. CURSE YOU
HEARTBREAK LAKE!! So Chad being the gracious host that he is quickly made some
calls, Plan B was in full swing. A quick rendezvous back at the house with
Sleeping Beauty and off to spot number two. Which much to our surprise came
with just as much excitement as Plan A. Mainly the complete removal of a couple
of downed trees from the road. The day did in the water and did not end with a
skunk. But it shows to importance of having that all-encompassing “Plan B” or “C”
or whatever letter you make it to. Even now as I sit here, scouring over weather
charts, gauge readings farmers almanacs, ect. in preparation for the Midwest
Madness tournament. Which if you fish just one tournament a year or thinking of
fishing one. This tournament is awesome. Any public water in the state is fair
game, party at weigh in, amazing prizes. But anyway, I’m planning my “Plan B.”
So just remember that we may all hate “Plan B” but we should never overlook the
fact that it is just as important, if not more important than “Plan A.” Until
next time, Tight Lines.
