One of my first and best cohorts in crime was Denny.
We were the same age and exactly the same interests.
We wanted to catch as many fish as possible everywhere we could.
We once heard a tale from an old-timer that in the spring time when the last of the ice had melted off our local waters the Northern Pike would come into the shallow to feed and spawn.
We were told that any joker with a fishing pole and half a brain could catch huge fish.
Well, Denny and I fill that bill.
Our extremely reliable source told us that we had to use "BIG" sucker minnows and the heaviest sinker we could find to hold that our bait down.
So, on the next crisp Saturday morning Denny and I loaded our gear in the back of my mom's trusty Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser station wagon.
That my friend is one of the sweetest fishing mobiles you could ever lay your eyes upon.
She then proceeded to drop two prepubescent boys and all the gear we could carry on the banks of one of our favorite lakes.
She warned us to be ready at noon for her return.
We ran down the trails to the water edge, gear in hand and water sloshing around in the minnow bucket in total bliss.
Just think we had 4 hours of unadulterated fun and fishing.
We quickly rigged our rods and reached into the minnow bucket for the biggest sucker we could grab.
We were both ready to catch matching state record Northern Pike.
I don't know at exactly what age competition between fisherman kicks in but I'm pretty sure in is ingrained in our DNA somewhere.
This was evident when Denny saw a downed log that had fallen and somehow managed to hover only a few inches above the surface of the lake.
He saw this as a distinct advantage for getting more distance on his casts.
He carefully shimmied out on the log that protruded over the recently ice-covered lake.
Denny lobbed his 8" sucker and 3 oz.
lead sinker as far as he could and with a cat that swallowed the canary grin said "Beat that!" Not being as adventurous as Denny I remained on terra firma for my response to his monstrous cast.
I loaded my rod to the breaking point and let it fly.
Remember that log Denny was standing on? Well, after my cast he wasn't there anymore.
In my valiant attempt to dethrone him as casting champion I managed to wallop him in the back of the head with my 3 oz.
lead sinker and send him plunging into chest deep frigid water.
Being a great fisherman he managed fall in and not lose his rod.
As he waded to shore with rod in hand and I think the reality that our ride was a little under 4 hours away set in as he hit knee deep water.
Denny said a few choice words that would have made a salty Shanghai Navy Master Chief blush, and then he really lost it.
About that time I noticed the golf ball sized welt starting to form on the back of Denny's head and then so did he.
After a tirade of bumbling, stumbling, finger pointing, and then moving back and forth to the brink of tears, we decided we needed to calm down and take charge of the situation.
We would fall back on our training! I'm a Boy Scout and I can start a fire to warm my near hypothermic friend.
You would think that between two tried and true outdoor adventurers we would have a book of matches, a lighter, or even a magnifying glass.
It wouldn't be an adventure if it were that easy.
I was almost as good a fisherman as I was a Boy Scout...
I was not prepared.
Denny and I spent the rest of our time trying to make a fire.
We tried building a fire with a bow built with a boot string and stick; we looked high and low for a piece of flint to make a spark (I don't think either of us even knew what a flint looked like), we prayed for lightning to strike our small pile of tinder, all to no avail.
They make starting a fire look a lot easier on television.
Poor Denny had resort to doing calisthenics to stay warm.
Sure we could have walked ½ mile down the road to the closest house and called home but that would be admitting defeat and certainly cast a dark shadow upon our next great adventure.
We managed to survive the ordeal and towards the end Denny even managed to make a few casts to salvage the outing.
Needless to say he didn't use the downed log for an advantage.
At noon my mom showed up and to disguise our misfortune we told her Denny had just slipped on a wet rock and managed to fall in the water 2 minutes before she showed up.
None the wiser, my mom told him she would put down blanket so he wouldn't get the car seat all wet.
Denny and I had more adventures but eventually grew apart.
A few years ago I was fishing in a tournament out of town and I put my boat into a local marina and to my surprise the captain of the boat next to me was my former partner in crime, Denny.
We laughed, told some good stories and I found out that Denny was now a charter boat captain.
People actually pay him to go fishing with them! I don't think I'll tell any of his clients about our misadventures of learning to fish together, but I will tell them to bring waterproof matches because you never know when you will need them.