When I told the gang at the Lake View Inn we were working on Boating’s annual adventure issue, it was Wally who asked from behind the bar, “How exactly do you define adventure?”
I have the Google in my pocket and asked it for a formal definition: Adventure is “an exciting, unusual experience that pushes personal boundaries, often involving risk, the unknown, and stepping outside your comfort zone.”
Last year I crossed Lake Michigan on a pontoon boat, which was certainly an experience. But nothing really happened. If you want adventure try boating in Alaska with my ex-brother-in-law, Uncle Fun, whose motto is “Go for the adventure!” You might tear off a lower unit on a Yukon River sandbar 300 miles downstream from the nearest road or encounter fresh brown bear paw prints on the trail back to your beached boat or be asked to put on an orange Mustang Float Coat when hunting halibut on the frigid waters of Cook Inlet “because it will make it easier to find your body.”
My good friend Chuck Larson has been good for a few boating adventures. As Wally likes to say, “When you head out with Chuck, jaunts may turn into escapades which often turn into incidents.”
There was the time we fished Marsh-Miller Lake up in Chippewa County. We were heading back to the dock on a clear June evening when Chuck spotted something in the water.
“It’s a dog swimming out in the lake,” Chuck said. “Looks like my black Newfoundland. It must be in trouble.”
So, we motored over and as we approached we realized the dog was not a dog. It was an adolescent black bear. The bear was swimming hard for shore and in distress because there was something stuck on its head—a large plastic jar that once held cheese puff balls. Poor buddy was probably diving to lick up the last bit of the irresistible cheese dust.
“We should get that off its head before it gets to shore,” Chuck said. “Take the wheel and ease up close and I’ll give it a yank.”
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Chuck went forward and knelt on the casting deck. I overshot the bear on my first pass, didn’t get close enough on my second, but by the third try I had the speed and course just right. Chuck leaned over and started pulling on the plastic jar. Then there was a splash, and Chuck was in the water with the bear. For a moment he was actually on the bear, gripping its wet, furry shoulders. I killed the motor and drifted past Chuck, bobbing in his life jacket. Should I rescue Chuck or the bear? A tough call. But then another boat approached the bear, so I let Chuck swim back to the Alumacraft and helped him clamber aboard. The folks in the other boat were more nimble than Chuck and managed to pull the jar off the bear’s head.
The key to a good adventure, I think, is not anticipating that there will be one. When we launched Chuck’s boat we did not expect he’d be swimming with a bear. But it happened! Our jaunt turned into and escapade, but thankfully not into an incident.
“Man, I get it,” Chuck said. “I love those cheese balls too.”
