kev_alaska
Petty Officer 2nd Class
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2002
- Messages
- 169
OK, I have been reading and laughing at some of the things we get to witness and be a part of as a boater. Time to fess up. I took a blood oath many years ago never to reveal this incident, but I believe the statute of limitations has cleared by now. <br /><br />Years ago I routinely hunted and fished with a select group of outdoorsmen. Being young and foolish, this group was selected more by the quantity of alcohol contributed than by ourdoor prowess. We plotted out annual moose hunting trip to coincide with the end of silver salmon season. I was the proud owner of a new lightweight aluminum riverboat equipped with a outboard jet. I was therefore selected a captain of the trip. (Once again you see how the selection process worked)<br /><br />We loaded up the boat with four hunters, camping and hunting gear for a long trip and started out. We were traversing a braided glacier fed river system that we frequent. Being as it was going to be a long trip, we were partaking of some of the spirits. About an hour into the trip, we spotted a brown bear swimming across the river, intent on getting to calmer water in which to rest (or fish). <br /><br />One of the party allowed as if I was man enough to get close to the bruin, he was cowboy enough to rope it. Odds were laid and I manuevered the boat behind the aquatic fellow. Not having an actual steer lariat (imagine that) he elected to use one of the lines normally reserved for mooring. He tied one end to the center cleat on the boat and moved to the bow for a better angle. <br /><br />The first throw was pretty weak and the cowboy was roundly booed. After two more attempts, though, the self proclaimed "Best Roper from West Odessa" was successful. The bets were paid off and as earlier agreed, the rope was to be cut as soon as possible to proceed on with both our as well as the bear's day plans. I manuevered the boat to the point that we were down current of the still swimming bear and prepared to cut the line close to Mr. Bear. From this point forward, I will refer to him with the respect he was soon to command. It was then that all of our best laid plans went south. <br /><br />As the rope was hauled across the beam and was being prepared to be cut, MR. BEAR stood up. It had not occurred to any genius in the boat that we were only in three feet of water. The picture at that time was that we were tied off within 5 feet of one irriated brownie. We immediately let the rope go to get some distance between he and us. The boat floated downstream until the rope (tied off on the off side cleat, remember?) tightened. With a current of about 10 knots and all of we genius material on the upstream side of the boat, the obvious happened. The boat flipped, throwing four now completely sober idiots into the glacier fed water. Did I mention that there was a bear tied to my boat?<br /><br />We all managed to grab onto the upturned boat. As we did so, the bear decided to charge, he obviously had let us be stupid long enough. As he came toward the boat, the boat floated downstream, keeping us from being mauled, which is what we deserved. The only thing on our minds at that time was to cut loose from Mr. Bear and escpe with out lives. About this time we also spotted all of our gear floating down river. Guns, camping equipment etc. This, of course, was where all of our knives were. Finally after repeating the bear charging, boat floating away, bear charging, boat floating about three times, someone found a leatherman in their pocket and finally freed us. <br /><br />As we floated down to the next gravel bar, Mr. Bear obviously had made his point. He chomped the rope off his neck in one snap and continued his trek upstream away from the now neutered idiot clan. He obviously figured that if people were as dumb as we were, his ilk would soon be on the top of the food chain for good. <br /><br />We took another hour to right the boat, flush silt water from the motor and restart the outboard. Luckily the gas tank had been secured and I had stashed a tool kit below the console. We went shivering back to the launch where we, of course, had to rewire the truck to get the boat retrieved and head home. The keys were with all the gear that was headed to the Pacific, never to be seen again. <br /> <br />We made about as bad a string of decisions that could possibly have been imagined. The only good thing to come out of that situation is the fact that it made me take stock of how I approached the outdoors and began my efforts to do it correctly. For fifteen years no one has figured out why there is a "0 Tolerance" policy concerning alcohol while my boats are underway.
