There is something special about sitting around a crackling campfire and telling select stories from a lifetime of adventures. Thankfully, I’ve got a lot of those stories and here is one that came to mind recently.
One chilly afternoon in the foothills of NorCal, some decades ago when I was a very young man, I was on a grand adventure. My friend Roger, myself and a large bottle of Jack Daniels went frog gigging. We called ourselves the Three Gigateers.
Roger’s wife had promised to make her renowned frog-leg dinner if we would go get the fixins. If you’ve every had some properly prepared frog legs, you know why this was so tempting. Besides, it never seemed to take much encouragement to get me and Roger to go adventuring.
We left a little early and brought along some fishing gear so we could cast for bass in the late afternoon as dusk descended and before the frogs came out around the picturesque and lonely lake we selected. We reasoned quite correctly that the only thing better than a frog-leg dinner was a frog-leg and bass dinner.
As the afternoon sun waned and the forecasted frost seemed a certainty, we found ourselves leaning heavily on our friend Jack Daniels. By the time darkness set in and the frogs came out, Jack Daniels had become a strong influencer, but we already had our bass filleted and were rigged up and ready for frogs. We were taking care of the business at hand.
Roger spotted a big frog, stuck it masterfully with his gig and ran up the slope from the lake. Just then the stick came out of the gig and there went Roger, hopping down the slope behind that escaping frog, trying to poke the stick back in the gig (one handed of course because his other hand was wrapped firmly around the bottle).
Well, the frog, the gig, the stick, Roger and Jack Daniels all ended up in the cold lake. I was pretty sure I was going to die laughing.
The frog wasn’t stuck badly and it shook the gig off, so nobody got hurt much. And, well, the bass dinner that night wasn’t bad, either. But then, you should have seen the look on Roger’s wife’s face. Her look declared us guilty without even bothering to charge us with anything other than being ourselves.
Still, it was a fine adventure worthy of retelling around a campfire.
— Capt. David Bacon operates WaveWalker Charters and is president of SOFTIN Inc., a nonprofit organization providing seafaring opportunities for those in need. Visit softininc.blogspot.com to learn more about the organization and how you can help. Click here to read previous columns. The opinions expressed are his own.