I knew the moment I took the step that
I was
in trouble – big trouble.
There is that moment just before an accident happens
when everything runs in slow motion mode. I guess it has something
to do with the fact that all our senses concentrate on just that
one impending event so everything is seen, felt, and heard in
crystal-clear clarity.
My step into trouble started out innocently enough.
I set out to cross the mouth of the Hinemaiaia River just South
of Taupo, New Zealand, to reach the sandbank and lip of the rip (where the river enters
the lake). I had made that crossing literally hundreds of times – but not
since recent floods. The river was up slightly, but certainly
not at levels that I had not crossed in before.
I was so confident that I marched out into the river
and by the time the water was over my waist it was too late. I
felt the bottom sloping away more steeply that usual but decided
to take that last step. One step to far.
Just one more step into the soft silt-filled sand
on the bottom and the water came up to mid-chest level, only a
few centimetres from the top of my waders. At this depth the buoyancy
of the waders tends to take over and I was struggling to maintain
contact with the bottom. Then the current swirled around me and
I was floating-free, heading out into the lake at a good pace.
Worse, there was simply no-one about to raise the
alarm. Fighting panic I tried to think my way out of my stupidity.
Fortunately I had put on a belt around my waist
so water had not entered the legs of my waders and this was keeping
me afloat – that end of me anyway. The head end of my body
was a bit more problematic – it was a real struggle to keep
my head up and above water.
Then I remembered that there was usually a tongue
of shallow sand that hooked out into the river mouth from the
other side. If I could reach that I would not drift out into the
lake – if the sandbank was still there after the floods.
So I began to one-arm sidestroke my way across the river.
I seemed to be an awfully long way out into the
lake, and was beginning to plan how I could get back to shore,
when by back-side bottomed out. Sodden, but nearly hysterically
happy, I got to my feet – in less than knee-deep water.
I paid for my stupidity. I had to smash, hack and
stumble through bracken, blackberry and bush, up the far side
of the river, for over an hour, till I reached the road bridge.
Then walk down the other side, and home to dry out. The whole
episode simply idiotic. Dangerously stupid.
But these days, danger mixed with stupidity seems
to be a cocktail of choice amongst a demented few. They call it
‘extreme sports’. Putting life on the line for an ‘
adrenelin rush’. Not a chance of that in the gentle (and
genteel?) sport of fly-fishing I thought.
Wrong! Dredging through the fishing newsgroups on
the Internet I came across a bunch of weirdos that are into ‘extreme
power wading’.
Seems that unless you wade to the absolute limit
of your ability to remain on your feet you are a girl’s blouse or worse.
These guys, and from the names, it was guys, believe
it is some kind of rite of manhood, and proof of your devotion
to fishing, to risk all to reach that pool that is out of reach
of ordinary men. Seems to me these guys have lost the fishing
plot – the objective of fishing is to catch fish.
Still I guess there are others in this sport of
ours that misinterpret the basic aims of wetting a line. Those
who believe that adding self-imposed handicaps, rituals, and dogma
somehow ennoble the sport. Fanatics are those who having lost
sight of their objectives redouble their efforts.
But dancing on the cusp of death to catch a fish
– that is taking it just a tad too far.
There are a number of fishermen out there, myself
included, that need a reminder now and then, that waders were
invented to keep water out, not necessarily to increase the depth
that waders could wade.
Wading deep in fast flowing water is silly –
and dangerous.
The deeper you wade the greater the buoyancy provided
by the waders – both from the air between the waders and
you body, and in the case of neoprene waders – from the neoprene
itself. So the deeper you wade the less effect your body weight
has to anchor you to the bottom.
Couple that with the fact that very often the strongest
currents are where the water is deepest and maintaining balance
and a foothold becomes even more tenuous. The distance between
safety and disaster often becomes just one step – one step
too far.
If you must wade deep, try these tips. Wear a belt
over your waders, it helps trap air in the legs. But walk into
the water with the belt loose, and while it is still safe allow
water pressure to expel some of that air, then tighten the belt.
This will reduce buoyancy when wading, but not enough to endanger
you if you tip up. Better still invest in one of those suspender
type buoyancy aids. They are not bulky when un-inflated.
Better still just do not get yourself into a position
of danger – I have yet to find a fish worth dying for.
Still on reflection it may be that extreme
power wading may have one advantage. Today’s rivers are becoming
more and more crowded. Extreme power wading could make a significant
contribution to decreasing the crowds. For every swing there is
a roundabout.