Horse Lake, Saturday, Hails, Wind, Worms and Cold

Last night’s storm was shocking. I was fishing half way across the lake when the storm clouds appeared. At first I thought they were going to bypass the lake. The other fish boats weren’t moving but then the rolling thunder sounded and that concerned me. I began heading to shore with my slow electric motor watching as the other boats one after another kicked into gear and rev’d their gas outboards leaving me putting along with my little electric.  The thunder rolled again, the sky darkened and wind came up against me. I grabbed the oars and began pulling hard. I had visions of being fried from a lightning strike.

I later quipped that Olympic athletes would have been impressed by the last stretch of rowing that took me into the protected waters. I had quite the audience of other RVers filming my heroics. I pulled my pontoon boat ashore and ran with it rickshaw style up the road to my Camper.  Just as I arrived hail struck. I was pulverized by hail rocks.  I escaped inside .

Gilbert was hiding under the table. “He started up the stairs on his own when the wind came up, ‘ Laura said. She’d taken pictures of me rowing for my life before she went inside to comfort him. 

I took down the awning that was threatening to take us a loft.  With the racket of hail on the roof we sat together in the darkness comforting poor little blind cockapoo Gilbert trembling and having difficulty breathing with his congestive heart failure.  20 minutes later it passed. A rainbow appeared. The roads were flooded .Other RVers were out filming the white lawns with their iPhones and cameras. 

I took the worm I’d had on my fishing rod hook and released it into soft puddled soil.  Having survived being bait and then a hail storm hanging from a rod,  I hoped that it had enough life to burrow into the soil.  As a child I hurt when others hurt and here I am today having difficulty hooking worms to fish with. Sentimentalism masquerading as empathy. Maybe in old age my testosterone is failing.

With my nights disrupted on call to Gilbert I’m finding FB more irritating than normal.  The causes and the protests keep coming at us like pesky Jehovah Witnesses banging at your door when you’d rather stay in the  bath. I feel this silly desire to ‘balance’ the onslaught of bias. And daily seeing my government steal and abuse me taking my rights and possessions and taxing me more for their favoured groups and cronies.  I struggle to remain grateful while watching dictatorship steal rape and pillage while claiming to be acting in the best interest of the people who are more like prey as criminals get away with murder. 

We spent the evening in the camper drinking tea and reading. Gilbert slept soundly after his ordeal.  

It was so cold that I turned on the propane heater and loved my camper. Instant warmth.  I am definitely not the intrepid Stoic young man I once was. I’m becoming a thorough wuss. It was heaven to climb into bed with Laura who had gone earlier and warmed it up.  I had to walk Gilbert a couple of times in the night. He’s on diuretics and when I walk him at night he pees a river. 

Meanwhile a stalwart fisherman would be out but it’s raining and the lake is churned up with wind. I’m here inside with Laura and Gilbert having made eggs and toast and now about to enjoy my third cup of coffee, any excuse to stay put in the warmth, cozy and safe.