Sorry for the delay this week.
Muddy Waters
By,
Jennifer E. Miller
“My galoshes splashed the mud as I sloshed through it, desperate to get away because I didn’t understand what exactly had happened.
“Boating out on Spargus Lake was a normal occurrence for me. After launching the boat, I motored out onto the sheet of glimmering water. I cut across the calm surface, making a messy wake, to my fishing hole. I threw the line in, and waited.
“Waiting was the easy part, or the hard part depending on how one decides to look at it. I thought it was going to be the easy part today, but as it turned out, well, you’ll see.
“With the line was in the water, I eased back in the seat, hands behind my head, eyes closed, feeling the breeze sweep over my face. Coots quacks and flapped their wings as they ran over the water surface before lift-off. It was a typical day as I waited for a fish to bite. Strangely, after three hours, there wasn’t a one. Not even a nibble. A no-harvest day happened occasionally. Didn’t like it, but that’s the way it goes sometimes.
“I wasn’t going to give up. Turning on the radio, I ate lunch and stood to stretch my legs. That’s when I noticed it. Bubbles breaking the water’s surface. It was like the whole lake was boiling. I touched the water; it was cold as it normally was. Whatever was causing the bubbles, it wasn’t heat.
“The depth finder beeped, alerting me of shallow water. Strange. That spot was plenty deep. The depth crept up from eighteen feet to fifteen, twelve. What on earth is going on? I wondered.
“At the six foot mark, I saw the lake bottom. That’s when I realized the water wasn’t dropping, the floor was being pushed up. I could see sediment surfacing.
“Quickly, I put the boat in gear and headed for shore with the depth finder’s alarm continuing to beep like Morse code. About two-thirds of the way there, the bottom of the lake hit the propeller. It didn’t feel like scraping on a rock, which is typically what happens to boaters who don’t pay attention to depth. This time the propeller, motor, and hull were trapped in thick bubbly mud.
“Helpless, I watched as the lake floor pushed and pushed itself upward, then the boiling action began to slow. I wondered where the excess water was even going, but that was the least of my worries. How the heck do I get off this lake—or should I say, muddy swamp.
“I fear what will happen next if I wait for a rescue and decide the best option is to escape on foot. Not sure how anyone could get another boat or vehicle out here, anyhow.
“Luckily, I wore my galoshes on this fishing trip and hopped out. My feet sunk a few inches, but not too far and I am confident I can trudge to shore. I must make to shore, I tell myself. My truck, my escape vehicle, is in the parking lot. My steps are agonizingly slow and make a sllllurp! slllllurp! sound when I pull them from the mud.
“I notice not a single life form, lest myself, is visible. No fish, crustaceans, or seaweed. In fact, there wasn’t even trash or debris. Where did they all go? It’s like someone filled the bottom with a horrendous amount of dirt. Dirt soaking up the water; that could explain all this. Who am I kidding. None of this makes any sense. But my legs are tiring and I need to keep my brain occupied as I stomp through the new Spargus Swamp. I wondered how far the boat had been from the launch when I abandoned ship. Two to three miles? I had at least a quarter mile left in this thick sticky crud.
“But I made it. You’ve got no idea how happy I was to feel the firmness of solid ground. I ran to my truck, the mud dripping off me.
“I started it up and peeled outta there. But not long later a game warden stopped me, asking why I had an empty trailer. I told him what happened. He didn’t believe me and so I reluctantly agreed to go back with him.
“What do you know. The lake was right as it was when I drove onto it. No mud in sight. My boat was gone and I was dumbfounded.”
“So what happened after that, Grandpa?”
“Nothin’ happened, except I never got another boat.”
“Why not?”
“Grandma wouldn’t let me. She said I was too reckless and fudged enough fish stories as it is.”
“I like your fish stories cause they’re true.”
“Well, she insists I should be more careful and not sink the boat.”
Copyright 2018 Jennifer E. Miller
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