By Chris Erwin
I hope that all of you have a fun and safe 4th of July. That said, I’d like to share mine with you. I’m not sure what weekend was supposed to be the 4th of July weekend, since the 4th fell right in the middle of the week. However, for me it ended up being the weekend after the 4th. I had to work Thursday and Friday, so I didn’t try to do anything until Saturday.
It had been weeks since I was on the water, so my big plan was to head out in the very early hours of the morning on Saturday and spend the day on the water after a few chores I needed to do around the camp. For any of you that don’t know, I have a camp on Cave Run Lake where we have a couple of campers set up. It is my watery retreat, although the weeds must be cut and some chores must be done to keep everyone happy. My plan was to get them over quickly and get out on the water.
There was a fly in the ointment. It came in the form of 103 temperatures. Fifteen minutes into cutting weeds and I was ready to be hauled off to the ER. Instead, I stammered over to the camper. We are off the grid, but the generator was running and the air conditioner was pumping out cold air. I open the camper door, and the air hit me like a blast from a walk-in freezer.
I took a deep breath and fell on the couch like a man having a heart attack… holding one hand in the air I proclaimed “I need a cold rag!” Expecting some action out of someone, I raised my head only to see everyone engrossed in watching the latest installment of Sherlock Homes on the DVD player. “Can someone get me a cold rag I’m dying here”? They stopped watching and looked at me. “Ugh… they are in the bathroom,” I was told.
Seeing I wasn’t going to get any sympathy or help, I forced my now red-faced sweaty body into the bathroom where I washed down my head and began to cool down. At this point, I needed to lie down and get my strength back. I headed on back to the bed and flopped like a fat man after running a decathlon. 
About an hour of letting the cold air bring my body back into this world, I declared it was time to go fishing. I opened the front door, and the heat hit me like I was standing too close to a campfire, and I expected my shorts to explode into flames in time. “Whew,”came rolling out of my mouth before I could even get out the door.
My son and I headed for the boat. We stayed out to a little after dark while we managed to catch a few dinks; we never got a good fish on all evening. I told Scott, my son, that I wanted to do a little swimming before going up to the camper. I figured this would cool me down again. After slipping off my shoes and socks, I headed into the water. I was expecting the cold few minutes of getting use to the water, but to my disappointment the water had no shock factor. As a matter of fact, I had to wade out over five feet deep to feel any cold water around my feet.
The next day we were up at dawn and hit the water again. We did catch a few fish in the first hour, but the sun and heat took the day over quickly, and we headed back in order to have breakfast.
After a few more chores the weather started to blow up a thunderstorm, and everyone was wanted to pack up and head home. The last hour, I spent loading my boat in a pouring, cold rain.
Going from smoking hot to chilly cold in matter of a few hours had my body in shock, but it was one of those kinds of weekends.
Till Next time
Good Fishing!
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