Sarley: The journey home from this fishing trip didn’t go as promised

To continue my Green Bay misadventure, we decided to head back to the dock in hopes we’d get back in time to not be disqualified.

I knew the hopes were never going to be met. My pro fired up his 225-horsepower engine and headed back in the direction from whence we came. He said we’d get back faster than we came.

I knew that was a physical impossibility. You can only drive a boat at the same speed as the waves are traveling. You just can’t outrun the water. Now we were headed in the direction of the waves and common sense told me that we could not drive any faster than the waves would allow us. We’d never get back in time. He kept assuring me that all would be fine.

The pro actually did a good job of running the boat. He zigzagged back and forth constantly, trying to keep the boat on top of the crests. Actually, he did a fantastic job, at least until we got to a point about 25 miles from port.

As we were riding on top of one wave, our nose began to tip down slightly as our tail lifted into the air. I then saw the scariest thing I have ever encountered in my life. We were headed, nose down, directly into the bottom of a swell between two waves. A wall of water was about to have a very close encounter with our craft. This maneuver is called “spearing a wave.”

I remember seeing George Clooney in “A Perfect Storm” and couldn’t believe I was going to soon have something in common with Mr. Oceans Eleven. Our boat speared through a gigantic wave at full force. We were like a shallow-running submarine.

We were completely engulfed in water. I was wearing a waterproof snowmobile suit, but I was soaked from head-to-toe by the time we came up from being covered by the wave.

We had actually passed through a wall of water. Thousands of gallons had washed past us and streamed over the boat’s stern. Standing calf deep in water, my pro figured that the craft was holding about 400 gallons of water, “But it is guaranteed to hold 800 gallons before it sinks,” he proudly proclaimed. Well, lucky me.

We had blown the boat’s fuses when we dove underwater and had no power for our bilge pumps. My pro rummaged through a glove compartment that was messier than my kitchen’s “junk drawer” while I silently prayed that he’d find a fuse before we were swamped by a renegade wave. He did and the situation was rectified when I stripped wires and rewired the bilge pump. To this day I still cannot believe that we were not swamped and sank.

I knew we’d never make it back in time, so I released the walleye. We were beyond fishing. I only wanted the safety of shore and to get out of my soaked clothes and the fierce winds. I was freezing.

We got the motor going and started our journey again. I was concerned that we had enough gas in our tank to finish the return trip. My pro told me to quit being a worry wart. He swore that we were in good shape.

I look forward to giving you the incredible ending to this epic misadventure when we get together again next week.

• Daily Herald Outdoors columnist Steve Sarley can be reached at sarfishing@yahoo.com.