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Alcohol and stream water should not mix

These stories were submitted by local author Denny Sieber, whose book “Tales from the Parking Lot” is available online from Xlibris, Barnes and Noble and Amazon.

A few years ago, four of us were flying out of Gouin Reservoir in the wilderness of Quebec, with our egos stoked and our bellies full of walleyes. The outfitter, Oliver, while fyling over another of his camps, noted a red square of plywood at the end of the boat dock, signaling an emergency. Banking the Beaver DeHaviland sharply, he soon landed the float plane on the lake near the dock. While we tied up, he ran to the camp where he found a pair of French Canadian “falling down” drunk. The emergency was that they were out of propane (fuel) for the gas stove. They used the gas stove instead of the wood stove which was supplied with firewood to heat.

Oliver, swearing fluently in two or more languages, took off in a hurry. My son, Mark, may have left his fingerprints on the stell rod on top of the front seat. The Beaver not only guzzled gas, not plentiful or cheap in the wild, but landings and take-offs were the most dangerous part of flying up there, barring engine failure.

A much earlier trip just south of that same area, our group was trying to pump information from another group from town that was going to the same lake at the same time. After talking to him at his repair shop twice, word got back to us that he said “if they think I’m going to babysit them up there, they’re crazy.” It turns out the other group from town was out of beer before the left Maniwaki, Quebec. They reloaded their pickup full ad got there much after we did.

Turns out we had no trouble finding their “hot spots” because they left a trail of beer cans of all over the lake. Their screened porch also had empties piled three and four high.

The third morning my friend Don, who was new to this type of fishing, and I were cleaning two large northern pike and some walleyes, and one of the other group watched and said, “Man, they’re nice fish. I wish I was with you guys. All they want to do is drink.

Am I (we) a teetotaler? No, most of the men I fish with drink; but they know when stop. We like to know when we’re having fun.

¯¯¯

One beautiful May morning, I was about a mile from Penn’s Creek with high hopes when I came upon a man in full trout fishing gear in an almost upright position, rod, and all — passed out (or dead?!) against the mountain. Slapping him awake when I saw beer bottles sticking out of his vest, I suggested he go to camp and sleep it off so he didn’t get hit by a car.

After years of fishing the Green Drake Hatch on Penn’s Creek, I thought I’d try a favorite spot near Swift Run. Being early, I waded out to thigh deep and waited for dusk or dark when the flies and fish would be active. Just when things were about to happen, two giggly, wobbly drunks decided to fish across from me, falling in, laughing and splashing repeatedly. I hoped the cold wet water might sober and settle them down because it was too late to find another spot. Didn’t happen!

It was almost full dark and I was able to hook a nice brown trout up current from me where it was away from the racket. The 15inch trout sped downstream and jumped high right in front of the upstream drunk. Startled, he jumped back into the water, completely drenched. Being the nice guy I am, I yelled “Sorry my fish splashed you and got you all wet.” His pal went bonkers laughing, and fell in again. It was a good way to salvage a bad evening. As I quit, they both crossed the deepest part of the hole without drowning, much to my disappointment.

The next evening, while some of us regulars were telling our stories by small bonfire overlooking the stream, a drunk tried multiple times to climb the steep hill below us. He would mumble, curse and roll back down again. One of our nice friends said, “Think we should help him?” Another said, “We didn’t get him drunk.” He may have made it eventually.

I’m no saint, but why would people do things like that? They not only endanger their own lives, but the good Samaritans who may try to help them. If you feel the need to get falling down drunk, do it doesn’t affect others.

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