It all started with a realization or at the least a day dream. I had grown to accept, that I was going to need a boat sooner or later, and after a substantial amount was saved up, I pulled the trigger. It was a funny year and a half of researching that lead up to the final choice. In the beginning, I really wanted a one man pontoon boat. In design, it looked like just the ticket for carrying my cat fishing gear, keep me dry, and have the option of mounting a motor.
As time wore on, and I continued, my mind started to develop a mindset towards owning all kinds of small fishing boats, from jon boats, kayaks, and even a stand up paddle board at one point. The problem with being an apartment dweller is that you are dealing with a small space, and more often than not, stairs. Not to mention, I didn't want to go to the parking lot one day, take the cover off, and find that a crack head had decided to make my boat their new home. The most logical of choices would be a float tube, but I didn't dig on the lack of options I had with it, as well as picturing some drunken asshole at Pueblo Reservoir running me over. Having a twelve foot kayak in my living room would result in a lot of lost space, and a stand up paddle board would make me fill too much like some stoned hippy at Huntington Beach. So, after starring at the same damn boat on my screen, the one I had wanted for as long as I could
remember going back a year, I clicked “submit purchase”.
I had just become the new owner of a Colorado XT.
* * * *
It was Quail Lake, a little past ten in the morning. I had just put this large damn thing together on the shore, and was going through my head; double checking to make sure I had everything. It had been a month or two, that I had spent ordering all of the necessary gear for my boat, for this one moment. No longer was I going to play Quint in my living room, rum in hand, in my boxers, lookin’ for Jaws. It was go time, it was now or never. I noticed a kid lookin’ at me from the fishing dock, confused.
“What kind of boat is that?”
“Oh, it’s a pontoon.”
Now the kid is running around in his head trying to figure out why I hadn't bought a more traditional boat. Next to him, I notice his mom, who happens to be a looker. I had spent so much time setting it up as a matter of fact, that I didn't notice that there were about fifty some odd people out. Folks were damn near shoulder to shoulder along the dam, the south side, and as far west as I could see before the tree line break. I started to get very, very nervous. I put my life vest on.
“You need a vest, that doesn't look like it will sink?”
“Ahh, well safety buddy, always gotta be safe.”
I felt pretty awkward, and for good reason. Although I had grown up on boats
my whole life, this was a bit different. I was familiar with boats that had, you know, that boat look. This was two large hotdog shaped balloons on a steel frame. I was completely unaware at the time, about things like bladder failure, and more so, the signs leading up to such an event that would let me know when to get off the water. I was smart enough at the least to try it out at a heavily populated fishery. Sure, it would be embarrassing to see the fire department show up to watch my investment sink in front of laughing onlookers, but at least I would be safe. Had I decided to launch at a lake with less shore traffic, a bladder failure and me going un-noticed could result in either a lengthy rescue, or at the worst, death should I go under as well. I sat down for the first time on the water, and started to kick off into the deep. I reached to my sides in what would be the first time I had ever rowed, in my life.
‘This won’t be hard, just remember how the guys did it during that one time you watched the Olymipcs.’
I started to row, and to my shock I realized in a few shorts seconds that I was going around in circles. I was not aware of how coordinated you had to be with these things, as putting more muscle into one ore over the other, made you go in circles despite feeling like you were distributing your muscle evenly. I looked behind me to see if the hot mom was watching me. She was, as was her kid. I soon realized that I was “that guy”, the weekend warrior yuppie who just got a boat he is going to use five times, and then sell on Craigslist. As I turned around for the seventeenth time, trying to propel myself forward in a straight line, I found there was one person who had faith in me.
“Come on man, you can do it”, shouted the kid on the fishing dock. When you have a kid rootin’ for yeah, it kind of puts a fire under your ass. I managed to take a deep breath, refocus, and start again.
This time, I made sure that I was using a steady constant pressure on the ores. I started to move forward, although slowly.
I don’t always screw up, but when I do it’s both embarrassing, and nerve racking.
Continued on page 11