When the peace of fishing leads to a scary situation, say a prayer

I was thinking about Mountain Lake Camp in Fannettsburg. That’s where I spent two months each summer growing up. I was 9 years old my first summer and 15 my last.

Looking back I wish I’d attended another year or so. But, you know, when I was 16, I got a car.

It was a used 1960 Corvair … bright red with black and white upholstery. With the car came independence and a feeling of being too grown up to go to summer camp. Like so many decisions in our lives that we wish we would have made differently, I chose a car over another year or two at camp.

One of the things I liked to do at camp was to fish below the dam that formed the lake. The dam is a couple hundred feet long and maybe 20 feet high. As the water spills over the dam it flows into a riprap of rocks. This was a great place for fishing.

In those days the riprap was teaming with bluegill, falls fish, largemouth bass, catfish and chain pickerel.

The shallow water was filled with mussels. It was easy to pick up a mussel, take it to shore, smash it with a rock, carve out the solid part, attach it to a hook and bang. Fish after fish.

The best place to stand was on the base of the dam. This area was about 3 feet wide, flat and made from concrete. The base was about a foot above the water, except after heavy rain when the water was treacherous.

To get to the base of the dam, there were three ways. Swim. Go to the right of the dam or go to the left.

On the right side there was a skeleton of a long-abandoned grinding mill. However, it was at that time home to abundant water snakes that seemed to thrive in the reeds and partially submerged rocks at its base.

On the left side of the dam there was a hill cut from gray shale. Over the years some of the shale had washed out creating foot and hand holds which made it possible to climb along its side from the shallows, across the water expanse and onto the base of the dam.

That was my favored way of maneuvering to the primo fishing spots.

Once I got a car, I would wait until fall when the place was closed and then drive to the camp. I would park my car outside the gate, walk along the dirt road that led through the camp, down the hill to the woods and to the creek. I would then make my way across the shale creek bed to the base of the dam.

As I got older I would wear hip boots so I would no longer have to make the precarious climb. I discovered a few places where I could stand comfortably in thigh deep water to fish.

One very warm early fall day that I remember very well, I decided to visit the camp. Walk through. Stir up some memories. And catch some fish.

So, I drove to the camp, put on my hip boots and made my way to the fishing spots. Once I got in the water, I trudged to the right side of the dam. Several snakes were sunning themselves. I made my way to the left side of the dam. It was clear. No snakes. Fish were feeding.

I maneuvered myself into the water. I was the only person there. It was beautiful in the late afternoon with blue sky and a few puffy clouds. I got lost in my thoughts. The water was running over the dam and the sound was soothing. I was standing comfortably in about 2 feet of water with my feet apart for balance. I’m not sure I was fishing so much as I was just absorbing the day.

Just as I was reeling in, I saw something out of my peripheral vision. I looked down and lying on the water was a large, thick and muscular water snake. It was protruding a foot or more from between my legs and lying still on the water.

If that were not enough, I could now feel that the snake had wrapped some of its body around my left leg for support. I panicked.

Water snakes are not venomous, but their bite is painful and can cause a lot of bleeding. And when they feel threatened, they can strike and bite, strike and bite, strike and bite repeatedly.

And where this snake was located between my legs … was not my idea of a good day on the water.

I did the only thing I could do. Nothing. I closed my eyes. I prayed. I opened my eyes. The snake had not moved. Apparently it was enjoying its day. No longer was I having such a great time.

So I stayed still. I moved nothing. I tried not to breathe.

I do not know how long I stood there. I was willing to wait all night if necessary.

Finally, I felt the snake squeeze my leg as it began to uncurl and move forward in the water.

This was a big snake — 4 feet or more. Thick body. Likely a female. Maybe full of eggs. I thought it would never swim far enough for me to make a safe escape.

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