Monday’s rain was a welcome event. Seldom are there unwelcome July and August rains in these parts. We sometimes have a surplus of rain in the spring or fall but summertime is different. We are more likely to have summer rain shortage. Summer rains are most always welcomed in farm country.
As welcome as this week’s rain was, it made a difficult week for this writer. It didn’t rain out a single event I planned to cover. I was able to go wherever I needed to go without getting wet. The rain brightened the countryside, was good for the crops and gardens, and cooled the blast furnace temperatures of the preceding days.
But thanks to the rain, I had a difficult time concentrating on my Monday work. I wanted to regress to my childhood and do something different. Way too frequently, I looked out the window and wished for a reason to go someplace.
I’m not sure where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do, but I couldn’t keep focused on the task at hand. I surely didn’t want to go for a walk in the rain for I did that when I went out at 7 a.m. to check the rain gauge. At that time a cold rain was falling and I was glad to get back inside. Not wanting to walk to work in the rain, I broke normal practice and drove instead.
The only way I could explain my desire was to say I wanted to go fishing.
When I lived on Blauvelt’s Hill and helped my father and grandfather with their business, rainy days were my favorite for they offered a break in our work.
When rain kept the farmers out of their fields and shut down other outdoor projects, the business often had a surplus of help. Regardless of the weather, business volume fluctuated from day to day, but on most slow days we had projects. In the summer months there were always weeds to cut and things to paint. Since that kind of work couldn’t be done on rainy days. Dad and I often were able to get away and do other things.
Some times we went fishing. Other times we visited relatives or went to another town to see something we were curious about.
Dad said rainy days made fish easier to catch. That was certainly true when it came to the fish in Lovewell Lake.
When the White Rock was pouring water into Lovewell Lake, we liked to fish off the county road bridge two miles west of Highway 14.
Often times the bridge was lined with people trying to catch fish swimming upstream and finding in the water flowing into the lake what they considered to be tasty tidbits to eat. When I caught a fish while standing on the bridge deck, I couldn’t just reel it in. If I tried to from my spot on the bridge, the fish would flop and twist as it came up out of the water. Often it flopped free or the line broke. Either way the fish feel back into the water. Instead I had to make my way to the end of the bridge. This was done by passing my pole under the poles held by the other people fishing and hoping our lines didn’t get tangled.
Once at the end of the bridge, I carefully made my way down to the water’s edge and tried to land the fish.
I never heard of anyone falling in but I suspect it was possible. Especially because of the rain slickened trail down to the water.
Fifty years ago this month, this newspaper published a story about the rescue of a woman who had fallen on the rocks at the Lovewell Lake inlet. I suspect there were times when people fell as they made their way down the creek bank near the county bridge. I either didn’t see their fall or have forgotten about it.
I’ve seen people fall into the lake though I don’t remember anyone being seriously hurt though their pride often suffered.
Once I was with a male friend who slipped and fell on a moss slickened boat ramp. Other than skinned knuckles, he was okay and hoped I was the only one to see his fancy maneuver.
I was with my parents one night fishing in Lovewell’s Montana Creek. Our boat was small and light and we normally carried it from the pickup to the water and back. That night we were coming into shore planning to take the boat out and call it quits for that day.
As Dad nosed the boat up to shore, Mother attempted to step out onto the bank. She didn’t plan to get wet. As she stepped onto shore, she pushed the boat back into the water, did the splits and fell kersplat into the lake. Mother liked to fish but she was very particular about never getting her hair messed up and a fall into Montana Creek was not among her evening plans.
Another time, I had been sailing my Windsurfer in the water off the state park area. It was getting dark and I had sailed into a cove east of the swimming beach. As I was loading up my equipment, a motorboat came into the cove. The driver cut the motor and the boat slowly glided toward the shallows.
Because of the lateness of the day, I suspect the occupants of the boat were also planning to take it out of the water. Most likely the women were to drive the tow vehicle and boat trailer to the marina ramp to facilitate the loading of the boat.
As the boat glided to a stop in the shallow water, the women stood up. The first over the side of the boat, lost her footing on the slick mud and went down in the water.
The second woman hastily went over the side, apparently planning to help her friend up out of the water.
As she stepped onto the bottom of the lake, she also lost her footing and joined her friend thrashing about in the water.
The guys, quickly shifted the boat into reverse and left as their soaked companions got up and waded out of the lake.
I may laugh about some of the mishaps that involved Lovewell Lake water, but 50 years ago this paper printed a story that wasn’t so funny.
We reported on a motor vehicle accident involving two drivers from Colorado. Apparently they knew one another, perhaps worked for the same company.
The driver of a semitrailer truck was east bound on Highway 14 as he approached the Third and Bloom Street intersection. The driver of a Chevrolet Corvette was trying to get the first driver’s attention and pulled along side the truck as the truck driver was attempting a turn.
The truck driver didn’t see the Corvette and his trailer ran over the high-priced sports car.
There were no injuries but it was high priced way to get the man’s attention.
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