Some well-grounded advice

The state of Florida is known for having the most lightning strikes in the country. So, what does this have to do with fishing and hunting activities?

Well, some years ago, friend Roger and I would be on Wauconda's Bangs Lake several times a week during the summer months. Actually, we would get out there for the early crappie run and keep at it until the lake warmed and the largemouth bass were willing to cooperate.

At that time we fished out of Roger's 18-foot aluminum boat rigged with a 35-horsepower outboard. I don't remember the month, but it was definitely midsummer because the sun came up early.

We were having a blast catching bass on every third cast or so when I noticed the sky getting very dark.

"Looks like storms coming," I said to Roger.

He looked at the sky and agreed.

It was like I had snapped my fingers 30 seconds later. The sky opened up and hail began to pelt us. On went the rain gear as a couple more largemouth engulfed the Little Action Mac plastic worms. We kept fishing because the action was hot and heavy.

We made simultaneous casts to a weed line when a lightning bolt hit a dock close by to us. The adrenaline factor reached an alarming high point at that moment, but we kept fishing. We made two more casts and just as the line unspooled from our spinning rods another lightning bolt hit even closer.

Instead of our lines going down to the water, they shot up vertically in to the air above the boat. I yelled to Roger to drop his rod and immediately get down to the deck. We remained there for several minutes until the storm moved eastward. It was a very close call.

Because we were using graphite rods we in reality had what I believed were two, quasi-lightning rods. I took the boat to shore and we both ran for cover under an old building, staying there until the rain and hail stopped. We were very lucky.

A similar incident happened while I was fishing a south Florida waterway. Down there, rain storms come out of the always-present puffy clouds which hang around the area.

Paul and I were tossing spinnerbaits to fish hanging around a small dam located on one of the freshwater canals near West Palm Beach. Heavy rain came pouring down on us as if we were standing under garden hoses.

"Let's go," I urged Paul.

"Nah, it will pass in a moment," he replied.

But it didn't.

A band of very dark clouds moved toward us in quick time. Lightning bolts shot from those clouds. It was the bolt that hit about 100 feet from us that was the convincer for Paul. He started the motor and we raced to the shoreline, jumped out of the boat and became one with the swampy terrain. Another too-close-for comfort experience for me.

The last major electrical scare happened on Lake of Egypt in southern Illinois. Mike Seeling, myself, a local named Boogie Goodman and tourism guru Larry Bowman were crappie fishing right at sunset. A heavy-duty electrical storm was brewing so I suggested we get off the lake. Goodman, in his typical southern Illinois drawl just looked up and said, "it ain't nothing."

Goodman sat in the bow of the boat perched on a tall seat. A lightning bolt hit some trees less than 100 feet from us. Boogie calmly said, "boys, I think it's time to go."

I noticed his entire body twitching as if someone touched a cattle prod to his skin. We just made it to shore when the sky opened up.

Some of us do not use common sense when it comes time to exiting a lake or river when lightning makes its presence known. Every year I hear and read stories about anglers getting zapped and barely living to tell their tales. Others never make it.

This column wasn't written to make you laugh, but rather to serve as a reminder to use your heads and get off the water when storms show up on the horizon.

angler@mikejacksonoutdoors.com