37 MARCH 2025 WorldWide Drilling Resource® The Un-Comfort Zone II by Robert Evans Wilson, Jr. Just When I Thought No One Was Looking . . . Continuing with stories of weird things that have happened to me, I recollect two which occurred when I took my family camping in the early 2000s. My wife, two sons, dog, and I had a favorite camping site in a state park on one of the big reservoir lakes in Georgia. It was at the base of a quiet cove that offered safe swimming, canoeing, and fishing. Along one side was a string of camping sites on a point of land which extended out into the main part of the lake. With an excellent lake view, it was the most popular section in the campground, and was always booked with large groups of campers. The other side of the cove was dense woods with no camping sites. One afternoon, I canoed out to the middle of the cove and fished. My canoe has cushioned seats and seat backs which are perfect for a lazy afternoon of fishing. I was completely relaxed - meditatively casting my line, reeling it in, and contemplating life - when something large hit my bait. Suddenly, my reel was spinning and shrieking in a high-pitched whine as the line rapidly pulled out. I quickly added some drag to slow the rate at which this denizen of the deep was taking my hook farther away from my boat. Relaxing was a forgotten dream; I was now fully attentive to the adrenaline-stoked task of landing that monster. My flexible rod was bent into an upside down U shape belying the size of the fish below. Eventually it stopped racing away, and I started the process of bringing it in. I reeled in a bit, then felt it pulling away again; so I let the fish pull out more line, then once it stopped, I started reeling in again. This back and forth went on for more than ten minutes as I tired it out. Then, I felt it getting closer to the boat, until I was able to lift it out of the lake. It was a nine-pound catfish, and as soon as I had it out of the water, I heard a resounding round of applause that echoed about the cove. I snapped my head up to see a crowd of two dozen people who had gathered to watch my progress, giving me a standing ovation. I waved to my admirers, then held up the fish for all to see. I was rewarded with some “Woo-hoos!” before releasing it back into the lake. The following year, we were back in our favorite camping site. The kids were swimming in the cove while my wife and I sunbathed nearby. Two ducks waddled past our lounge chairs and my dog excitedly gave chase. Trixie ran to the end of her leash, then managed to pull her head out of the collar. She was now free and chasing the ducks at full speed. The ducks broke into flight and within seconds landed in the lake comfortably out of my dog’s reach. Undeterred, she leaped into the water and started swimming after them. I called her repeatedly, but she was caught up in an instinctual hunting behavior and ignored me. I ran along the shore, clapping my hands and calling, but she refused to turn around. The ducks were leading her out into the main basin of the lake where motorboats were speeding all around. Once she left the smooth surface of Wilson Cont’d on page 38.
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