The following article appeared on the Outdoors Forums Fly Fisherman Bulleting Board. I don’t know the actual name of the poster, but his handle is “dryfly24” and he’s from Jackman Maine. While it’s a rather long post, it’s worth taking a moment and reading it. Most of us who have fished for a few years have probably experienced a similar situation.
Dryfly24 said, "I figured I would post this today as a warning to anyone who might be like me and who maybe has gotten a little lax with their safety. I think it happens to everyone after a while. You know how it is, you do this for years and you take a little chance here and there and it always works out OK in the end . . . well not this time, not for me, or at least it wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been lucky enough to be fishing with a good buddy who just happens to also be the local game warden, and young, and in outstanding shape.
Tonight we were fishing a certain section of the Moose River that I had just fished three days ago. I didn’t notice it at first but the river seems to have come up a little bit since the last time I was there. Not only that but the last time, I had been fishing out of my Mokai and spent most of my time either in the boat or wading the opposite and slower bank from where we came in tonight.
I have been fishing this particular stretch for years and often brag that I know it like the back of my hand, but (as I found out tonight) when the water comes up all bets are off.
When we arrived, I crossed a channel that forms a swift run between the river bank and an Island that sits directly across from a spot that I have used to cross to that island a hundred times before. I cross there because I know that it is a little shallower there than in the rest of the run. The problem is that at this particular spot, the river is funneled and comes sweeping around the island swiftly as it is severely choked down to a narrow channel above a very deep pool below the island where the river again opens up very widely.
When I first got in and began to cross, I noted that I was having trouble keeping my feet on the river bottom, but because I had done it so many times before I just kept going figuring that it would get shallower with the next step. Well, to make a long story short I went too far to turn around, became committed and had to continue on. I made it.
When I got to the shallow water on the other end I thought about it and yelled to my buddy who stayed to fish on the other side, that it had been very hairy, and I would have to watch it when I went back.
After we had fished a couple of hours we decided to call it quits and I headed back to the crossing. I’ve got to admit at this point, that I was dreading it a little bit too. Here is where I made the biggest mistake and probably the best learning point of the whole story. Had I stepped back for a minute and studied the situation, I would have seen that the whole problem came from the swift water being so quickly choked down to the narrow. Had I crossed a little further up where the water was deeper but much slower, I could have made it through with no problem.
What can I say? I’ve been crossing there for years and that’s what I did. As I began to cross, I started losing my footing. With each step I was pushed a few feet further downstream. The further downstream I went, the faster and harder the water pushed. Had I stopped after the first step or two, I could have made it back but I didn’t, and when I got about a third of the way across I realized there was no way I could make it but I was committed.
Well, that was one those "OH S*!t! moments that I hope I never experience again. I was wearing my waders with belt, and Fishpond Wasatch vest/backpack, heavily laden. Thank God for my Simms G3 studded felt and Folstaff, because without them I wouldn’t have lasted a second. I stopped about midstream, yelled to my buddy Jim and told him I was in serious trouble. I told him I was going to try to turn around but didn’t think I could make it. Lucky for me, Jim wasn’t wearing waders and had been bank fishing with spinning gear so he wasn’t weighted down with a ton of crap. I didn’t know it at the time, as I was just concerned with not being swept downstream into a deep pool full of sweepers, but at this point Jim went into instant superhero mode.
The second I turned around, the full force of the current caught the small of my back and pushed me several feet further downstream. I don’t know how but I managed to stay up and actually managed to gain a few feet back towards the Island. The problem was that in doing so I put myself right at the base of a large submerged rock that was funneling the water right back toward the main channel. I tried to wedge my feet against the rock and bore all my weight down to the riverbed with all the force I could muster. I dug the staff in as far as I could and did the same with my feet, but the force of the water ripped my right foot up and over the rock.
At this point I was now straddling the rock like a horse and could feel my feet sliding out from under me. I yelled to Jim that I couldn’t hold on much longer and had at best a few seconds left, then I looked downstream and started trying to devise some sort of plan when the inevitable happened and the current swept me off my feet. I was sure things were about to get very bad.
Then all of a sudden there he was! Jim showed up like freakin’ Batman! To me it was like he had just appeared in the shallow water above the island dangling the end of a long sappling in front of me and yelling for me to grab it. I clamped down on that limb like a vise with trembling hands, and he pulled me to safety as slick as you please with hardly any trouble at all.
One second, there I was in a state of controlled panic and terror and the next I was back on solid ground watching a smiling Jim turn and saying “C’mon, let’s go home.” It was almost surreal. We walked upstream to where Jim had crossed in the slow water when he saw that I was in trouble and made it across without further incident.
So what is the moral of this long rambling diatribe?. . . I’m stupid I guess. That, and just be careful out there guys. There isn’t a single fish that swims worth risking your life for. I thought I knew that myself but I guess I didn’t.
I almost went fishing tonight by myself. I just happened to see Jim walking with his kids at the last minute and asked if he wanted to come along. My wife and daughter are away for the weekend and no one would even have known where I was had he not gone with me. They say that tragedy often occurs after a series of small mistakes add up to one big final outcome. It’s true. Don’t get too lax guys."
The panic in his face was priceless once he was safe. Not sure if he’ll go back with me…lol.
