The Pontoon Boat Adventure

   Larry Schnider is married to my wife's best friend from high school. We have been friends for a few years and play golf and fish together whenever we have the chance. Like myself, he is in the Navy, but he is stationed in San Diego-a couple hundred miles south. He is visiting the in-laws about sixty miles away where he and his brother-in-law Chet come up with a plan to rent a pontoon boat overnight to fish a local lake. Chet wants to take his buddy Tom, who is disabled from a car accident several years ago and is now confined to a wheelchair. The problem is getting Tom and the wheelchair onto the pontoon boat, as it is impossible to do at the marina based on the way it is setup.

When Larry calls to invite me, we discuss the problem of Tom's wheelchair. The launch ramp has a handicap access dock versus at the marina where we would have to carry Tom for a hundred feet or so. We decide that to go to the marina to rent the boat and then take it down the lake to the launch ramp. Chet and Tom could meet us at the launch ramp and then the three of us could lift Tom and the wheelchair together onto the boat.

The morning of our fishing trip the alarm went off at 3:30 AM. It's funny how you can jump up wide awake when you know that your purpose for the day is to go fishing-unlike a normal work day where you're half asleep for the most of the morning.

All my fishing gear is ready and piled up neatly by the back door. After brewing a quick pot of coffee, I fill my thermos, ready to make the hour's trip to my fishing buddy's house. Upon picking up Larry, we head to Lake Kaweah Marina (it is off I-198, between Lemon Cove and Three Rivers). I see a sign announcing the south entrance to the Sequoia's National

Park a mile-and-a-half ahead. Smelling the air, there is a pleasant and distinct perfume coming from the forest. It's not from the trees, but from the decay and mold that grows around the trees. Sequoias do not have leaves like Redwoods, but instead, have pine needles and cones. Redwoods are thinner, taller, and have a very different and unique smell to them. Sequoias are larger in diameter & mass than the Redwoods.

I turn left into the marina about 500 yards beyond the sequoia sign. We rent the 20-foot patio boat (pontoon) and decide to pay an extra $25.00 so we don't have to return it until noon the next day. On inspection, we determine the boat is perfect for our little expedition as Tom will be able to move round freely. There is a railing all around the platform, benches on the sides, with a sun cover over the back half of the boat. A small 7-horsepower motor ensures that we can tour about the lake efficiently.

Larry and I cruise down to the Lemon Hill boat ramp where we meet Chet and Tom, loading the boat as planned. We load all of our gear, the big cooler, and make sure that Tom is comfortable on aboard. Time to go fishing!

We drive around the lake for a quick once over then decide to fish a back cove that has large trees that shade a good part of the area.

The other guys start using worms with bobbers in the old traditional way. I am just getting into bass fishing, so I start with spinner bait, then a crank bait, a plastic worm, and finally a tube bait. No hits, no bites, nada, nothing. Such a great looking spot, and yet a bummer.

We take a vote to change locations, and then start the little motor to head towards the dam. Seeing the end of the lake by the dam reminds me of the last time I was on this lake when my father-in-law Leon considered buying a used boat and wanted to take it out for a test drive. The memory starts with the boat. It was a 16-foot turquoise and white fiberglass tub with a big old Chrysler motor-both were at least 20 years old. I brought a couple of fishing poles, a coffee can with worms, and lunch my wife, Carol, fixed for us. As we got to the deep water in front of the dam, Leon shut the motor off and where we started to bait our hooks. I was about to cast when I notice water in the bottom of the boat rising fast. Hollering to Leon that we needed to put our life jackets on, he replied "What Jackets?"

He begins trying to start the old motor, as I was bailing with our worm can. The water was coming in faster than I could bail and the motor wouldn't start. I can see the headlines now - "Two old sailors drown without life jackets on local lake." Finally the old motor coughs and sputters then starts. With the motor running full bore, the water drained from where it had entered. We put the boat back on the trailer and Leon returned it to its owner, saying "No Thanks."

Breaking from my memory, we pull into another little cove, shut the motor off, and drop anchor. The water is deeper here and clearer. You can see down to twenty or thirty feet that is clear as a bell. As the boat swings around in the current, I can see some boulders that are the size of a small car, out as far as a good cast away. Larry, Chet and Tom throw out their bobbers again, but this time there are some nibbles and an occasional bluegill is caught. As the day wears on, the bluegill fishing gets a little better and the boys put the bigger fish into a wire net basket that hung over the side of the boat. Once there are enough to work with, Chet cleans and filets them, keeping them on ice. They are happy catching their little fish and after a while, start needling me for fishing for bass. I'm using a black plastic worm. Casting it out and hopping it back, time after time, with no avail.

The boat swings around again and I manage to land my plastic worm right on top of the biggest rock I can see. Cool, I thought. I let it settle for a moment, then pull ever so slightly, so that it slips off to the side. It floats down into a slow swirl and disappears out of sight. There is a little tap then my line starts to move off behind the rock. I lean back on my pole to set the hook and then hit something solid. It feels like a cement block. Then it starts to run.

"I have the mother of all Bass", I hollered as the fight ensues. I was thinking; "I have these guys now and they'll sure be jealous when they see this big old bass I've caught, I'm the real fisherman. They'll think twice for kidding me about using artificial bait."

Around the big rock he goes. I think he is trying to tangle me up. The line is ten-pound test and I know it can't stand up to too much to stress. To my surprise, the fish did an about face and started to untangle itself. A few minutes later, I can see him down in the depths-he was big, but he didn't quite look right. Looking again, I swear it has a black spot on its gill. Oh No! A bluegill! But it's fighting like a bass, what the heck? After a few minutes he tires and comes to the surface. It is a bluegill, but he is huge. Larry nets him and brings him aboard. We measure him at 17-inches long with a girth of about 23 inches.

"He must weigh five pounds!" Tom exclaimed.

Chet replies "Maybe a state record"; we should keep him and check with the California Department of Fish and Wildlife."

We place the fish in the wire basket dropping it back in the water for safe keeping.

It is getting late and the sun has gone down, so we decide to eat our supper made of sandwiches, veggies, fruit, and various other snack foods. Fishing a little while afterward, we catch some more bluegill and then decide to turn in for the evening. We can sleep and then get up at dawn to catch the early bite. Tom reclines in his wheelchair, Chet opens his sleeping bag out on deck, and Larry sleeps on one bench, with me on the other.

After a long day of fresh air and sunshine combined with the gentle rocking of the boat, it doesn't take us long to fall asleep. We all wake with the surprise of a huge flash, a loud boom, followed by rain drops. No one thought to check the weather forecast! By the time we get ourselves together, pulling up anchor, and getting the motor started, the rain begins coming down hard. As we exit the bay, sheets of rain come at us sideways. I can see the light at the launch ramp, so I steer right towards it. We fight the wind and all of us are now wet to the gills. Tom was feeling chilled, so we decide to get him to shore first just to be safe. It seems like an hour has passed, but probably is only ten minutes or so before we get to the ramp. I have the motor wide open and run the boat up the ramp. Chet jumps down and runs up hill to get his car while Larry and I start unloading all of the gear. We unload Tom and get him settled in the car with the heater on. I unhook the wire basket with the super bluegill in it and place it in the water next to the gear we already unloaded. The rain begins to let up a little as we consider our options - we're all soaked without any dry clothes to change into - we don't need anyone going into hyperthermia or getting sick. It is over; we'll call it a night. There is too much gear to put in Chet's car, so we figure Larry and I will run the pontoon back around the bend to the marina then pick up my car and come back to the ramp. We can load our gear and stuff, and then the trip will be over.

We push off from the ramp, turn east with the wind to our back, and take off. Looking towards shore for the lights to the marina to guide us, the rain starts coming down hard again. So hard, you can see only a few feet in front of the boat. Larry grabs a flashlight and stands on the bow as a lookout. I remember that the docks at this end of the lake come way out in the water indicating the shallow water extends further out from the shore. I turn out towards the middle more, just to be safe. It is so dark, and with the rain you can't see anything.

After a while I ask Larry "Do you think we should turn towards shore now?"

He replies "Why not?"

I slow the little motor down so that we were not pushing water and turn inward towards shore.

Larry is still on the bow with his flashlight and a few minutes later he says, "What's that?"

Instantly I cut the motor to idle and look up. Buoy's on a rope, "What the hell. Where are we?"

We sit there for a minute trying to figure out where we are and what those buoys are. We both know there isn't a swim area at this end of the lake. The buoys are white with red stripes on them, which mean "danger". The only thing it could be at this end of the lake is the river inlet. The "Danger" is large rocks! The wind had helped us go faster and further than we expected. Now we have to turn back and try to find the marina, which we now realize has already turned out the lights for the night.

We turn the boat parallel to the line of buoys and idle toward the shore. Larry is able to see the waves washing up on the shoreline and is giving me hand signals to keep from running aground. It is a slow process, but at least we we're going in the right direction now. With Larry's direction and my confidence building, I increase the speed of the little motor. Won't be long now, I thought, we should be coming to the marina soon. The motor sputters and then sputters again, then quit.

"Oh Hell Larry, I think we're out of gas!"

I instantly turn towards shore, try to start the motor, but only get a few minutes of power. We hit the gravel on shore. I light a cigarette and for a few minutes we both just sit in disbelief. If it weren't for the fact that Larry's Credit Card was used for a deposit, we could just leave the boat here run aground. But at least now it has stopped raining.

Larry offers to climb the hill to the highway above and then walk to the marina for gas. It looks like a 30-degree hill that is all rock and cactus for about 75-feet up to the road.

I say, "Ok, go for it! But just don't forget where I'm at!"

He takes the flashlight and leaves. I smoke at least three cigarettes before I see headlights coming up the highway. The truck stops and I hear a door slam. Larry stands on the edge of the highway above shinning the flashlight down on me and says he'll be right down. Sliding, mostly on his butt, he makes a quick trip down to the boat. I don't think he remembers the cactus and is lucky enough to miss them or is too tired to care. He apologizes for taking so long, but he says he got to the marina and then took my car back to the ramp, loading up all of our stuff. Chet then followed him to the marina so that he can shine his headlights out on the water in order for us to see where it's at. He had to borrow a can of gas from someone's private boat because the marina people had taken in all of the cans on the other pontoons when they closed for the evening. As he walked up the road, the security guard stopped and gave him a lift.

With the gas tank now full, I crank up the motor-we are on our way again. I go back out to the deeper water and cruise westward until we can see the lights from Chet's car. Docking the pontoon, we remove the gas can that we borrowed and returned it to its owner with a ten-dollar bill half-tightened down in the cap.

As we drive out of the marina parking lot, the sun was coming over the mountains. I thought to myself, "What another great fishing trip!"

*Upon arrival at Larry's in-laws I picked out my fishing gear before I was about to head for home. I discovered "The Super Bluegill" was left in the basket where I had placed it in the water. While the guys were loading the gear, no one saw or even thought about my fish. On my way home I drove back to the launch ramp. The basket and fish were gone.