Flip Flop

My last story was an offshore tale, a battle of wills in which I lost to a hungry snapper. Within the content, I mentioned it wasn't the first time I'd gone up against nature, either losing or saving something in the process. This is one of those times.

It was one of those nasty days in the 10,000 Islands when the wind is blowing out of the west, churning up the backwater like the muddy swirls of the Mississippi River, a day that's usually called off. Will (twelve at the time) was here for the summer, Daphne had come to visit, and I was hell-bent on taking them out. Although, I'm pretty sure neither couldn't have cared less.

Conditions far too rough offshore, we limped down the coast in theHoney Badger "just don't care," a 26-foot center console with twin screws. Not a complicated craft to run for someone with a bit of experience, but none at all… sketchy, boatsman beware. 

Anchored in the mouth of a small pass that cut through the center of Cape Romano, soaking shrimp off the stern, I threw my rod and reel out of the boat. No reason, just a disconnect between body and mind.

Abandoning a stationary vessel with passengers not trained to operate it for some of the strongest currents in the state is not recommended. The unrelenting volumes of water rushing in and out of the passes, little rivers, and creeks are not to be underestimated. A couple of other near brushes and stories come to mind. However, my reflexes are faster than my attention span so, out I went as I was, clothes, accessories, and all. 

I should mention that I've been a waterman since I was two years old, comfortable in the water and not afraid. The story goes that Mom (Daphne) dropped me off the first day of swimming lessons, “Swimmers by Suzy” – Suzy was teaching kids to swim the length of her pool and back within two weeks. Once the student accomplished the feat, Suzy awarded them with a “Swimmers by Suzy” t-shirt. When Mom picked me up a couple of hours later, I had the t-shirt on, a couple of sizes too big and dragging the floor.

"Jed, why do you already have your shirt on?"

"He's done," Susie said. "He swam the length of the pool and back today."

I've been bailing out of boats with and without reason ever since.

There is a small window of opportunity in a situation such as this, a point of no return. The rod and reel was moving laterally as fast as it was sinking, the factor that afforded the opportunity because I could see it - barely. I caught the handle at the last minute. Only then did I think about how I was going to get back.

The toes of my right foot managed to clinch around the sandal; the left didn't make it and was already downriver. I reached down, took it off, and compensating for the negative momentum, threw a Hail Mary towards the boat. Doug Flutie himself would've been proud, end over end it went…touchdown! I began to make way back with three limbs, the distance growing as I watched. “Uh oh,” I thought, making no progress. I swam harder. The boat got a little closer. I heard a commotion behind me and turned around to see a lady in a rented pontoon boat fall out as she reached over the side to save my errant flip-flop. 

The embarrassment of potentially being the cause of two rescue operations was too much, and I hit the nitrous oxide. Then Will tossed me a life jacket. A valiant move, although strengthening my plight because now I only had two limbs to swim with, my legs, rod, and reel in one hand, life jacket in another.

It was now or never, the point of no return where I forfeit my reclaims in exchange for a safe outcome. One last blast of energy put me within a life jacket toss of the boat, which negated some progress, but I made it up, stretching the rod out for Will to grab. Exhausted, I snagged the port side lower unit, pulled myself to the stern, folded the swim ladder down, and climbed up.

A small crowd had formed on the beach on the north side of the pass. I heard a few claps and cheers. The woman was safe back aboard the rental, flip-flop in hand, and my sunglasses were still around my neck. Other than having a salty reel to clean, everything was in place.

If you're going to be dumb, you better be tough.