Human interactions are such an organic thing when allowed to follow their own un-adulterated course. No big time emotions or hidden agendas, just people trading stories or ideas. No psychoanalyzing, no “but what about the details”, just savoring our humanity. That’s what the best of random encounters are all about.
After a cold spell last week with lingering temps on the wrong side of zero, the past few days seemed downright toasty - in the mid thirties. The bright sun bouncing off some recently fallen snow, it was a perfect day for a hike around our local town park. As I started to walk along a path that bordered the adjoining lake, I saw little specks off in the distance, presumably ice fishers. The trail was a bit slushy so it only made sense to take a detour onto the lake. Being relatively new to walking on water I grabbed hold of a 2 inch maple along the edge, and eased onto the ice. I know nothing about winter fishing but it’s a huge thing in my newly adopted state, so I set off to check it out.
Over a couple hundred yards, I watched the black dots turn into two men, two kids and a dog, and became more confident as I dodged small puddles along on the way. I thought surely if I had a bad day, they would hear me break through and come to my rescue - and vice versa. My hunch is that decent people, when called to the test, usually try to do the right thing.
By the time I had gotten a hundred feet away, the two guys had turned all their attention on me. I didn’t want to yell, but they had stopped fishing. Their cautiously attentive look reminded me of those you get from deer, as you slowly cycle by them on a country road. Any approaching “strange” creature solicits curiosity at least. The less familiar the stranger, the more likely there would be a “fight or flight” response. It is those automatic, micro-second reactions that have enabled all animals to survive most of their encounters with the unknown - the “bumps in the nite”.
In my case, it took a mere - “ Hi, How’s it goin’ ? ” to break the ice. I saw expressions turn from hesitancy to friendly smiles, as their one eyed dog Ellie, charged with her wagging tail. Their collective assessment was - this approaching guy looks and sounds a lot like us and isn’t a threat to anyone, so it’s OK to move on.
For kicks and giggles, imagine that the person approaching my acquaintances had been a child, a young woman, a homeless guy with a different color skin, a middle-aged man wearing a turban or having a heavy accent. How would things have played out differently?
Please check out "High Horses" for their perspective on Fight or Flight
Quality time on the Lake
Out of respect for them, my second question was of course - “How’s the fishin”. The younger guy (we’ll call him “Don”) maybe 35 yrs old, pointed to a medium sized perch, motionless near one of their several ice holes. That was the extent of their bounty after a few hours “work” but all four of them seemed fine with that. Not atypically, catching fish appears to be a nice bonus of spending time on the lake, not the only goal. Don when asked about the largest fish, said he’d caught a “Northern” here years ago that measured 36 inches. That’d take care of a large Friday fish fry.
I asked them about the ice and learned quite a few things. Sal, about twice Don’s age, explained that clear ice is the scariest to walk on, yet the most solid. Its the product of consistently subfreezing temps without the pockets that precipitation causes. It’s also the safest to walk on. The ice we were on not so much. It was five inches thick, grey to white as it was an aggregate of snow, rain, freeze- thaw cycles and therefore not as solid. When asked about the minimum safe thickness, they were a little vague. “Usually four or five inches, but there are so many variables… this ice seems to be holding us up pretty well” - he said with a smirk.
As an ultralight pilot I said - “Lots of people look down on flying as dangerous but I think the same or worse could be said about hanging out in the middle of a lake - on thin ice. Sal “assured” me that last year, at this time, the ice was about 15 inches thick. He then conceded with all due respect, he’d “rather just look up at ultralights”. I was reminded that - one man’s passion is another man’s folly.
We talked for the better part of an hour about lots of things we had in common, including kayaking which my wife and I did on the same lake many times. They wondered if my wife could have been the woman who had to be rescued twice with the town’s airboat - once when she capsized, and the other when she got blown into the high reeds and became stuck. I proudly responded no, and had a new appreciation for my wife’s kayaking prowess.
We talked about Sal’s time in Navy helicopters while in Vietnam and Don’s career in aviation, aborted because of the economy in 2006.
And then there was Ellie’s encounter with blastomycosis which lasted over a year and cost her an eye. Don talked about her still leading a really good life and pointed out that she’s still a great bird dog even now.
And we talked about living in a wonderful small, mid-western town. My cup was full and I left with their invitation to “join us any time”. . . Maybe when the ice is a little thicker.
How do you think your experience meeting the above two fisherman MIGHT have gone differently?