We went out to fish on Lake Eerie
Not a bite, but we ended up cheery
With hours suddenly free
And nowhere to be
And we wonder why we’ve been leary.
Synopsis: I’m a Family Practitioner from Sioux City, Iowa. In 2010 I danced back from the brink of burnout, and, honoring a 1 year non-compete clause, traveled and worked in out-of-the-way places in Alaska, Nebraska, Iowa, and New Zealand. After 3 Community Health years, I took temporary gigs in Iowa, Pennsylvania, Nebraska, Canada, and Alaska. Since the pandemic started, I did telemedicine in my basement, staffed a COVID-19 clinic in southeast Iowa, visited family, attended funerals, worked at the Veterans Administration in South Dakota, and held a part-time position close to home. After 2 months of doctors’ appointments and telemedicine in the basement, I found a part-time position in Pennsylvania, to be close to our oldest daughter and her family.
My son-in-law and I blocked holes in our schedules and booked a fishing trip on Lake Eerie, less than 3 hours out of Pittsburgh. We drove out the night before and stayed in a motel.
A bed bug kept Winfred out of his bed, he spent the night working on his computer. In the next room, I spent an hour finishing documentation and another 45 minutes on clerical tasks for my next gig.
In the morning, we drove through the town of North East, Pennsylvania, past well-tended vineyards and orchards, to the marina where we met our captain.
Just before we got into the boat, Winfred got out his earbuds, and assured us he was on mute.
Our guide brought the boat to a spot he’d marked on his GPS, and deployed the fishing tackle (if you must know, down-riggers with spoons). After 20 minutes of gentle trolling, he started calmly reeling in the lines. He had to check something, and we wouldn’t be out of the water but a few minutes.
I attributed the hasty trip back to a personal need on the part of the skipper, but when we stepped onto the dock he explained that the boat had been taking on water.
While he pulled the boat out, I enjoyed the dramatic low clouds, watching the slanting sun playing on the lake.
Winfred finished his meeting. We watched a good-sized fish swimming slowly in shallow water, and agreed that we’d at least seen a fish.
Then hilarity descended on our mood as we drove into town to find a Charming Little Bakery.
We did improvisational comedy over coffee and baked goods. We marveled at the captain’s calm and professionalism.
We have both been in crunch situations, when unexpected bad things happen, and we know what personal qualities it takes to maintain one’s cool.
Then both of us had work to do and we got out our computers.
At about 11:00 the guide called. He found us a replacement fishing guide, if we wanted, 3 hours out. We agreed.
We strolled a couple blocks, past the town square, to the Chinese lunch buffet.
I used the pitiful small remnant of my Mandarin to say hello and ask about pork.
We ate at leisure. The star of the meal was the Shanghai chicken. We talked about matters serious and light, from slavery to water temperature. We swapped patient cases. The improvisational comedy continued.
I asked Winfred the last time he had 3 free unstructured hours. In private practice and in community health I would go for decades without, but now I don’t work full time, I take lots of 2-week vacations, I have such intervals regularly, but this one came as a surprise. It had been years for Winfred.
The skipper called again while we wondered what part of the lunch buffet was good enough to justify seconds. The replacement captain’s boat trailer’s wheel bearing had seized 45 minutes out. Our trip was canceled.
I don’t know why, but when the call finished we laughed.
And we kept on joking and laughing while we took our time finishing the meal.
On the drive back to Pittsburgh we agreed that we had had a great fishing trip, just not the one we’d planned.
It was all part of the adventure.
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