Friday, August 7th, 2026 – The Boat
One thing I didn't mention yesterday...
Bass Canyon Campout III actually started long before anyone arrived at camp.
It started with a promise.
Years ago, I had promised my daughter we'd get her 46-year-old boat back on the water.
It hadn't touched the lake since 2016.
What better time than Bass Canyon Campout?
So Tuesday evening I recruited three friends—Tom, Brian, and Chrystal—and we headed to Deer Creek Reservoir for the maiden voyage.
Would it float?
Would it run?
Would it strand us somewhere in the middle of the lake?
There was only one way to find out.
We backed it into the water.
The engine started.
Victory!
...for about thirty seconds.
As soon as we pulled away from the trailer, I discovered the steering would only turn right.
Not left.
Well...
This should be interesting.
Fortunately, after working it back and forth for a few minutes, everything loosened up and suddenly we had full steering again.
Off we went.
And it was glorious.
The sun was setting.
The air was hot.
The lake was glass.
We laughed.
We swam.
The boat ran beautifully.
Everything seemed perfect.
Until 10:30 that night.
Pitch black.
Last people on the lake.
Time to load the boat.
I hit the switch to raise the inboard drive.
Nothing.
The whole drive unit—the part with the prop—refused to come up, leaving the prop dragging on the concrete boat ramp.
I will admit...
I had a few dark thoughts.
"How the hell am I getting this thing out of here?"
The marina was closed.
Nobody around.
Then Brian had an idea.
"Let's let almost all the air out of the truck tires."
So we did.
Then Tom and Chrystal climbed onto the back of the truck, using their weight to lower the trailer tongue just enough to lift the prop off the concrete.
It sounded ridiculous.
It worked perfectly.
We got the boat onto level ground.
Then we all looked at each other.
"Now what?"
There was no way we were driving home on the highway with about an inch of clearance.
So Brian climbed into the boat.
I walked back to the inboard drive.
And I swear...
I became Han Solo.
I smacked it.
Kicked it.
Shook the whole thing like I was trying to get the Millennium Falcon into hyperspace.
BAM.
The motor came back to life.
Up came the drive.
We all just started laughing.
And that's when it hit me.
The challenges were...
...kind of fun.
Not because I enjoy broken equipment.
Because I wasn't facing them alone.
Every problem became another puzzle.
Another story.
Another memory.
Fast forward to Thursday.
The plan had been to take campers out on the lake throughout the day.
In the end...
Nobody showed up.
Just me, Tom, and Brian.
No disappointment.
We had made a promise that the boat would become part of the Camp Offering.
So we kept the promise.
We took turns driving.
Brian, naturally, carved some wonderfully aggressive turns.
We swam.
Floated in the sun.
Laughed some more.
Then...
The engine wouldn't start.
Of course.
And that's when I realized something.
God wasn't trying to ruin our day.
Life wasn't punishing us.
It was simply handing us another opportunity to solve a problem together.
Eventually we figured it out.
The old boat had one more personality quirk.
It had to be in neutral...
But in a very particular neutral.
Apparently the old girl has trust issues.
Once we learned her personality...
She started every time.
We cruised back to the dock.
Loaded the boat without incident.
Returned it safely to storage.
Packed the last of our camp gear.
And finally drove out to camp Thursday evening.
And let me tell you...
That first cold Corona beer was well EARNED...
...and well ENJOYED. 🍺