We went boating on Lake Mitchell last night with our friends Brad and Dez, and their little girl Lexi. It was a beautiful evening for boating. We sped around the lake for a bit and then shut it off for a while to just relax.
Brad decided he wanted to go water skiing, so he did that. Then Bryan got in the water to give skiing a try.
Ready, set....no go. The boat wouldn't start for anything. The people onboard who knew something about engines and motors deduced that we had a dead battery for some reason.
Of course, we were on the far side of the lake from the dock, pretty much as far away from it as we could get. There were no other boats around us...only one jet-skier that would zoom past every now and again, but he was still quite a ways away. Every time he would come close, we would stand up and wave our arms. He appeared to see us but didn't slow down.
The guys decided to try rowing back but discovered there was only one oar aboard. Finally, Mr. Jet-Skier headed our way again. I stood on the back of the boat and waved both arms frantically. This time, he slowed and came toward us! He said, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were trying to flag me down." (Did he really think we were just being friendly!?!) He agreed to pull us back to the dock. Thus began the longest boat ride of our lives. When the guys tied the rope between the boat and the jet ski, they doubled it for extra strength. This, however, made it a very short rope. Thus, all of the water that the jet ski sprayed up behind him came directly down into the boat like a full-blown downpour.
As Bryan, Kyla, and I huddled beneath a towel as best we could, Bryan just started to laugh...and laugh some more. I'm so glad I married a man who can laugh when being utterly soaked in a dead boat. I had to join in...what else could we do? Everything in the boat, including ourselves, was getting totally drenched, and there wasn't a thing we could do about it.
I had no idea that lake was so big. It's huge. At least the size of Lake Superior.
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