Oceans for Emotions: Older doesn't always mean wiser
April 8, 2010 at midnight
Updated April 8, 2010 at 11:09 p.m.
By Elaine Wheat
"The way of a fool is right in his own eyes."
I had always wanted to fish the mouth of Boggy Bayou, but especially today, because I had heard that it was a real hot spot for big trout.
Being that I was boat-less at this time, was truly making me envious of those who had boats, and some didn't even use them.
As I was fishing from the dock at the Indianola Fishing Center and watching the boats go out, I was complaining about my boat-less plight, when a fisherman named David came up to me and said that he already had his daily limit of trout, but that he would take my fishing friend and me to Boggy in the morning. All we had to do was show up at the Fishing Center at 5 a.m.
Who said complaining doesn't pay off?
When we got there in the morning, David had his boat in the water, waiting for us. I was a little leery when I saw that the boat was the smallest flat-bottom boat I had ever seen and powered by a miniature-type motor. My new friend, David, was already drinking a beer and bragging that it was, after all, after 5 o'clock.
I mentioned a.m. and p.m. and he just shrugged.
We loaded up and winded our way across the bay and anchored right at the mouth of Boggy. David slipped into the water and waded east. Mary gracefully plopped out and went to the west and I, being older and surely wiser, got the oar, felt for the bottom to see how deep it was and was gratified to find that it was only knee deep and I could feel the shell and sand.
Then right there in front of me, I saw the seagulls working and the pelicans diving for their bait breakfast.
Everything was perfect, and I was so excited that I put my bait bucket silently in the water and slipped my left leg over the gunnel, until I could feel the bottom. It was just when I was about the get my right leg over and in, that I could feel my left leg keep going deeper and deeper into the Boggy Bayou.
As I hung out there half in and half out of the boat with my foot still sinking away, I realized why it was called Boggy Bayou.
While I was naming that longed-for fishing spot several new names, David came to my rescue, or at least I thought he did. Actually, he was only getting another can of something you drink after 5 o'clock.
He did push me by my rear end back into the boat not even caring if I left my best wade fishing shoe somewhere in a bottomless hole.
He then mentioned never wade out to the north when fishing Boggy Bayou, after all, any fool knows how it got its name.
Dear Lord, again, I thought I was so right and I was so wrong. I hope that Your Grace is sufficient this one more time.