When I left off, the fearless crew of the Gumbo was trying to out run a summer storm that had gotten very ugly very quickly. We passed under Hathaway bridge and made it about a mile up when it hit! The storm had outrun and overcome us and ice cold rain was dumping all over us. I looked at Jack and by the look on his face I figured, "Okay. This isn't so bad. It'll dump rain and get a little rough out here but it will pass." I turned back to the bow of the boat and did what in the coastal states is known as "hunkering down."
That's when I felt something smack me square on the top of my head. It felt like an egg sinker weight had been thrown at me so I turned to Jack. I expected to see him giggling after having thrown the small projectile. I did not see him giggling. Instead I saw a robin's egg sized piece of ice hurtling towards my nose! As I ducked the missile I heard Jack scream through the rain, "HAIL!" Then the sky unloaded on us. Through the June ice storm I saw Jack motion me to get the anchor ready. He then pointed to the bridge we came under and yelled, "We'll anchor up there and ride this out!" I did as my stalwart captain instructed. Jack nosed Gumbo back towards the bridge and I readied the anchor. I glanced at the deck and saw all the ice collecting and thought, "Now I know how all those shrimp in the shrimp cocktail felt."
We made it back to the bridge and once deeply under cover I hoisted the anchor over the bow. The ice curtain now looked like beaded curtains on either side of the bridge. Safety was assured. WRONG! The water in the bay was more than choppy. It was writhing up and down violently. That's when I caught sight of the anchor line. It was stretched iron rod tight, however we were moving out of our safe haven! Within minutes we had eased back out into the bay dragging the anchor from its underwater perch. I turned my gaze to Captain Jack and realized he was smiling like the cat in the canary cage. He had given up and decided that as long as we stayed afloat, we would somehow survive the machine gunning hail. Giving up, I sat down in the bow of the boat curling myself into as small of a target as possible.
After 25 minutes of being pummeled, the hail storm subsided. The rain was gone. The sky turned a lead color and the wind turned cold. Jack stood and said we were fished out for the day and were heading back to the marina. There was a wall of fog rolling in that we would have to navigate through, but after the beating we had just survived that wasn't even an issue. We finally limped back into the marina and eased into our boat slip. As I began stowing the rods and the anchor and line, I heard Jack say, "The difference between an ordeal and an adventure is attitude." I stopped. I stood up straight. I looked at Captain Jack in disbelief. He was smiling ear to ear. We had just been beaten and battered, water logged and worn out, and returned fish less. I suppose he could read the anguish on my face. As he walked past me and stepped onto the dock, he slugged me in the arm and said, "Besides, the fish needed a break anyway."
- JD
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