Seneca tells us that, “Luck is when preparation meets opportunity.” This saying is often aptly appropriate for outdoor expeditions. Many veteran outdoors folk have a list of conditions that they prefer to have in place before even considering going afield.
The first consideration is the weather. A Westerly wind is desirable, while an Easterly wind should be avoided. The following wind directions are all good: Southwest, West, Northwest, and North. The undesirable directions are Southeast, East, South, and Northeast. Warm fronts are good,while cold fronts are bad. Fishing through a thunderstorm can be incredibly productive, but downright dangerous. Those with the wisdom of past experience venture out after the storm has passed. After a fresh rain, rising waters often bring the big fish out on a feeding spree. Overcast skies, mixed with spotty rain, can also trigger heavy feeding.
Indeed, clouds play an important role as well. Low light and heavy cloud cover are good. Bright sun seems to make fish spooky. Yet sunny days may trigger a hatch and allow the fish to easily see the fly. High parallel clouds known as cirrus clouds, often referred to as a “mackerel sky,”may mean it is time to fish. Puffy low cumulous clouds signal fair weather and good fishing. Rapidly approaching, anvil shaped, cumulonimbus clouds, signal thunderstorms, and give warning to take cover. Heavy cloud cover, a steady rain, and an East wind means it may be time to head home. Do you wait for ideal conditions or go afield whenever you have the time? One must choose carefully.
An outing from the distant past comes to mind…
Canoeing a scenic river can be a relaxing way to spend the entire day observing nature at it’s finest, if the weather cooperates. The weather had been dark and stormy, with frequent thunderstorms. The day trip had already been postponed once, due to threatening weather. The travel group was growing antsy. The weather front blew through, the rain stopped, the river was up. We decided to go on the river the next day. The forecast stated that there was a 50/50 chance of thunderstorms. Many in the group were quite street smart, yet very novice outdoors people. Some asked if we would see tigers. Others asked if there were snakes in the trees. None showed any sign of many deeply hidden fears. We all were excited to travel down the river. After a short drive North, we finally loaded our boats and commenced our float.
In our excitement, we had not noticed the changing weather. The wind had died down, the air felt thick with humidity, the heat was a stifling 90’F. In the distant West you could hear muffled thunder. Yet,the river carried us onward into the hidden forest realm. What would we see around the next bend? Nobody knew. Everyone enjoyed being on the water on a nice warm day. The river was clear, with a bottom showing a mosaic of multi-colored stones. Deep woods of mixed conifers lined the shore. Occasionally in the river, one would see a boulder or sunken log. Fish darted about. Herons flew from the trees at our approach. Wood Ducks splashed up, squawked loudly, and streaked away from us. But all was not well.
The sky was growing darker by the minute. The birds became eerily silent. The air was humid and hot. Everyone was sweaty. The distant rumbles grew ever closer. A few small concentric circles of rain appeared on the water’s surface. Something was about to break loose. Suddenly, a gust of strong wind blew up out of the West. The wind carried dust and leaves that stung our eyes and skin. Large pelting rain drops followed. The flashing lightning and thunderclaps were too close for comfort. It was time to take shelter.
We quickly pulled into shore at the foot of a steep bank. After exchanging some loud, colorful, language, the canoes were turned on edge, swamped with river water, then tied securely to the bank. We took shelter under a large rootball from an upturned tree. Then, the full brunt of the storm was upon us. Heavy rain pelted our bare backs followed by stinging marble sized hail. Overhead, the wind blew the rain sideways, carrying leaves, dirt, and branches with it. We hung on tightly to the tree roots for dear life. Torrents of rain poured down. The river rose into a swift current of brown muddy water dotted with leaves and branches. Finally, the lightning and thunder became distant. The rain tapered off to sprinkles. The wind laid down. After forty five minutes, the storm was over.
The air was noticeably cooler. Bright sunshine shone on wet trees and smiling faces. We could hear a chorus of sirens in the distance. One siren sounded different from all the rest- it was a tornado siren. We carefully emptied our boats and returned to traveling down the river. Indeed, a tornado had touched down nearby. Many trees were uprooted. Some houses and vehicles were damaged. A few barns were blown down. Nobody had been killed. We had witnessed Nature’s fury first-hand and had been spared. Life was good.
So when venturing out, you go when you can and hope for good weather. Often enough, you just go…
A story is told of two experienced Alaskan hunters who chose the shore of a remote lake for their base-camp. They planned to do a little fishing and hunt for moose. It was mid-September, in the interior region of Alaska, a few hours North of Anchorage by floatplane. They hired a pilot, loaded their gear, and were dropped off on the lakeshore. They had fall clothing, ample food for a week, rifles and fishing gear. They did not hire a guide. The first few days were warm, sunny, and pleasant. Moose sign was abundant. The fishing was good for artic grayling, dolly varden trout. They shot a few ptarmigan. The living was easy. Then the weather took a bad turn
The wind shifted due North bringing rapidly plunging temperatures, followed by a foot of snow. Overnight, the lake acquired a hard layer of ice. The wind blew strong between twenty and fifty mph. for several days. When the wind stopped, the thermometer read: -25’ F. and stayed there for many days. They were effectively marooned with inadequate clothing and a growing shortage of food. Much of their time was spent shivering in their sleeping bags. Frostbite quickly developed on any exposed skin, especially the face. Performing bodily functions proved damn risky. They struggled to eat enough food to keep their bodies warm. Tempers flared and conversations grew short. They were trapped, unprepared, with little opportunity of escape.
Their pilot in Anchorage attentively watched the weather radar over the lake. High winds made flying very risky. The surrounding mountainsides were strewn with airplane wreckage from previous fatal flights. He would have to wait for more stable weather. Five days later, the wind calmed. The next of kin had been informed, the pilot had rented a helicopter. It was time to go pick up two bodies.
The two hunters were wrapped in their sleeping bags when they heard the whop, whop, whop, sound of the chopper blades. It seemed to approach nearby, then slow down. They were too cold to move and too incoherent from exposure to cry out. Maybe what they heard was a dream. The pilot ran to the tent and shook the door to free the snow on the zipper. He unzipped the door and saw two sleeping bags. Then he looked into two sets of sunken eyes surrounded by red faces with frost-bit cheeks and noses. “You guys got five minutes to dress, grab your guns, and get to the chopper. Otherwise, you’re gonna be staying here.”
The pilot watched them shake and stumble up to get dressed. Their speech was garbled. They both shook uncontrollably. He helped them climb into their sweet chariot for home.
The flight to Anchorage was eerily quiet. They had narrowly escaped an unpleasant fate. The heat was very comforting. Thawing skin burned like fire. In the next few days, blisters would form on their noses, cheekbones, and ears. Where the frostbite was severe, the blisters would burst, the skin would turn black, then slough off. Thereafter, the frostbit area would be sensitive to cold. They called their relatives. Their speech was babbling incoherence. With warm food and plenty of rest,they would slowly recover from exposure. In a few days, they boarded the long flight for home. The two hunters would never speak to each other again.
Many of us routinely check the weather forecast before venturing off the beaten path to the deep woods or rippling waters. Waiting out a thunderstorm, in the big woods, is a scary, yet exciting experience. Challenging cold weather can rattle even the most seasoned woodsman. One very cold night spent in a log cabin at -38’F comes to mind. When immersed in the deepest of wilderness settings, one tends to feel small and insignificant. Indeed, this can be a very humbling experience with lasting impact. Go forth, be strong, and remember the forces of Nature are stronger still.
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