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Down at the Bridge

Jacob has been doing a lot of imaginary fishing lately. Every walk we take, he finds any little stick and declares it a fishing pole. Then he finds another stick and brings it to me saying, “Here’s a fishing pole for you, Daddy. Do you wanna fish with me?” So I figured he would like a real fishing trip.

On Saturday, he and I went fishing down at the Birch Creek bridge. I put his car seat in the front seat of the Trooper. I wouldn’t do it in town, but here in Circle it’s safe enough. The boys very often go car seat free as we drive to the store, the post office, or the river, and I enjoyed having Jacob’s company as we drove.

Birch Creek is a pretty spot with almost guaranteed fish; I pulled out a small pike on the first cast. Jacob was fascinated with the fish and the teeth in its mouth. But his fascination was short lived. After a dozen more casts with no fish, he was ready to move on to our picnic. We had crackers and cheese and lemonade and mosquitoes.  Being a dad is great. I love those boys and enjoy spending time with them.

On Monday night, after another full day of packing, the boys and Stephanie were off to bed. I wanted to take advantage of the last few opportunities to take some late night pictures of Birch Creek and the old iron bridge that crosses it. It only gets dusky this time of the year, so I had plenty of time.
After about 45 minutes of shooting various angles, I was getting ready to leave when a boat came off the river and pulled up beside the bridge. Two guys got out and loaded the boat onto the trailer, and proceeded to pull it out of the water. They had a two wheel drive van, and almost immediately got stuck in the muddy bank.

The driver of the van wasn’t very bright. He backed himself out of his hole, and turned to drive along the muddy bank and got himself truly and totally stuck. At that moment, I really wanted to say, “Good luck, guys. I’m going home.” But I didn’t feel like I could. We stood around and looked at the rig from various angles and thought about how best to get it unstuck. I didn’t want to say it, I didn’t want to offer, but I finally said, “What you need is a come-along and a length of chain.”

They asked if I had one. I said I did, but that it was back in Circle, about thirty minutes away. Thirty minutes there, thirty minutes back, and it was already 1:30 AM. On the way, I saw a big bull moose in the road. He was still there when I came back the other way. Good to see.

When I got back with the come along, a tow strap, and what chain I could find, we were still about ten feet short of the nearest qualified tree. We found a length of old rope in the boat to close the gap, but the old roped seemed to do nothing but stretch. So with each six foot length of pull that the come along could muster, we moved the van and boat about two inches. Repeating the process over and over to move the van the ten or so feet it needed to move took most of the night.

When we did finally pull it free, the guys were pretty grateful. I was glad to help, and I hope I’m banking some help from the universe for the next time I get stuck.

Posted on Wednesday, June 4, 2008 at 02:09PM by Registered CommenterBrian Rozell | Comments3 Comments

Reader Comments (3)

that bridge looks familiar. wish i was on the bank with you and the rozell clan tonight.

June 10, 2008 | Unregistered Commenterwatson
Is this the car story Steph mentioned the other day?
June 10, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterDad (Opa)
You are a good man, Brian Rozell. You're one of the GOOD GUYS, and there are so few of you left.

Thank you for the lovely postings. I cannot impress on you how much I enjoy reading about your family and your life.

Much love for you,
June 11, 2008 | Unregistered CommenterLizabeth Marr (Mom)

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