Fishing with my brother

 

Several years ago, I decided to run away from home and go camping with my brother. At that point, I was a single mom of four teenagers/young adults, working, going to school, and completely maxed out on stress. So naturally, I figured spending time with my brother would be relaxing.

“Come fishing with me!” he said, making it sound like some exotic wilderness getaway in Colorado, only a few hours from my house.

He told me to drive out to the middle of Colorado and assured me there would be NOOO problem finding the campground.

So, on a dark and rainy night, I left Utah and headed toward Colorado in search of this elusive campground. I passed it multiple times before finally calling my sons back in Utah, who somehow managed to figure out the correct mile marker from several states away so I could stop driving in circles and properly wring my brother’s neck.

The next morning, my brother decided to take my thirteen-year-old daughter and me fishing on the boat.

Now, my brother speaks fluent fisherman. He uses all the proper boating terms, chats confidently with the seasoned pros at the dock, and backs the truck down the ramp like he’s captaining a deep-sea expedition.

Then he promptly drove off the side of the boat ramp.

He pulled forward to try again, and at that exact moment, the truck and trailer moved forward while the boat — containing my daughter and the dog — moved backward.

He had successfully launched the boat onto dry land.

In front of an audience of experienced fishermen, he had to winch the boat back onto the trailer. My dog, completely humiliated, jumped out and disappeared. Fortunately, my daughter Sara thought the whole thing was the greatest adventure ever and stayed loyal to the cause.

Eventually, we got the boat into the water and headed out across the lake. The boat seemed oddly sluggish, but we kept going until we finally returned to shore and discovered we were sinking.

Apparently, dropping a boat onto rocks puts holes in the bottom of it.

As a true fisherman, however, my brother refused to let something minor like “taking on water” interfere with the trip. We simply moved upstream to fish from the riverbank instead.

That’s when my sixteen-year-old nephew put on chest waders and headed into the middle of a fast-moving river in pursuit of “the big one.”

Now, I had already waded into that river myself, and the current was moving. Fast.

As my nephew started slipping and grabbing onto me for balance, I did what any loving aunt would do.

I left him there.

A few seconds later, he completely lost his footing. The waders filled with water, and suddenly he couldn’t get back up. At first, he was laughing as the river carried him downstream.

Then he realized he couldn’t stop.

At that point, his aunt — me — waded back into the river after him while his father sprinted down the bank yelling, “DON’T MOVE!”

Which honestly felt like solid advice under the circumstances.

Then he added, “DON’T PANIC!”

A little late for that stage of the process.

So there I was, stumbling through the river, praying my nephew would snag on literally anything before floating into another county. Thankfully, the river finally threw him against the bank long enough for me to catch up.

I reached him just in time to discover he had landed in the middle of a patch of snakes.

I left him again.

Look, he was breathing. At that point, he was on his own.

Meanwhile, my boys were driving out from Utah to join us. I would like the record to show that I required far fewer wrong turns than they did finding the campground. Plus, they had daylight and clear weather.

And they still missed it by an entire state.

They finally began to suspect something was wrong when they somehow passed Colorado and ended up nearly in New Mexico.

Needless to say, they arrived late.

After everyone finally got settled and asleep, we were awakened by a thunderstorm so violent the ground literally shook. Have you ever realized that when lightning is striking nearby and you’re camped above the tree line — making you the tallest object around — there is absolutely nowhere to run?

I covered my head with a blanket and waited to be fried.

My dog, meanwhile, made sure he positioned himself slightly lower than me, just in case lightning was looking for the highest target.

Oh, and did I mention the park ranger who asked to see my fishing license? The same fishing license my brother assured me I absolutely did not need?

We’ll save that story for another day.

Mostly because I can’t provide information that might incriminate me.

Also because I didn’t want my brother finding out I nearly turned state’s evidence to save myself.