Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Crazy Lady at Work

I've spent the past two mornings cleaning up at my go-to fishing spot.  It looked like this...
Looking west toward the entrance to the parking lot.
Looking north at the exit to the parking lot.
 The parking lot, as you can see, is underwater.

I spent about 90 minutes straight yesterday cleaning the flotsam out of the exit.  I spent about 2.5 hours alternately fishing* and cleaning this morning.  All the logs are moved to the side of the exit.  Most of the logs are moved to either side of the road to the entrance.  Except the ones I couldn't manage alone.


Hubs was working, so no aspersions cast on him.  No aspersions cast on anyone, really.  Except maybe those who wait for someone else to come in and clean instead of rolling up their pantlegs and wading in.

I did this because I love to fish.  And I love my fishing spots.  This one has been abandoned by whichever government entity owns it.  The concrete picnic tables are all smashed.  The bathroom is locked and overgrown.  The only people who take care of this place are people like me - the fishermen, the nature lovers, the dog walkers who want someplace pretty to wander through on a spring afternoon.  We're the ones who pick up garbage year-round.  And before now, they were the ones who cleaned up after the floods.  Now I'm one of the cleaner-uppers of flood damage, too. 

Some people came down to the park while I was there.  I'm not sure if they came to stare at the receding flood waters or to stare at me.  I don't care.  Come and stare at the crazy lady with her sweatpants rolled up to her knees and her t-shirt tied up under her ribcage acting like a lumberjack, tossing limbs and branches and rolling logs.  Sweat-soaked and stinky and covered in dirt. 

I did it.  And I'm pretty damned proud. 

I'd go and clean up my other favorite spot, except the government has locked the gates there.  Liability, I'm sure.  Protection from the numbnuts who would run amok inside, perhaps.  (Lord knows that during the winter when the park isn't watched, some idiot decided to offroad in part of the park, tearing huge grooves in the lawn.  Asshole.)  I'll wait and let the official park personnel do their jobs - because I have to not because I want to. 

Tomorrow, maybe, I'll attacked the go-to spot from the other end of the submerged road.  I'll need to bring a saw.  A couple of trees had fallen across there before the flood even began, when we had that EF0 tornado in the area, and if those are above the water line, I'll need to get those out of the way so I can work.  We'll see.

All I know right now is that I can fish at my favorite place again because I didn't wait for someone else to clean it out.  Maybe I can't fish all the way out on my standin' rock, but I can't make the water recede any faster.  I'm good, but I'm not that good.  ;o)

* I didn't catch anything, but the fish were jumping and I did get some bites.  I'm blaming not catching on getting used to the new-old rigs.


  1. Good for you! I always admire well-kept parks, but I don't think about the volunteers who keep them looking nice.

    Of course, I don't get out to even vaguely wild places anymore. I miss them!

    Thank you for being one of the rescuers!