The Night the Bear Ate Goombaw by Patrick F. McManus

Author:Patrick F. McManus
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.
Published: 1990-05-15T07:00:00+00:00

Water Spirits

My first encounter with water spirits occurred at a high mountain lake in northern Idaho. Dr. Mike Gass and I had grunted and gasped our way up the steep, rocky trail to the remote lake on the basis of rumors that large, savage cutthroat trout abounded there.

As soon as we arrived, Mike set up operations on a snow slide at one end of the lake, the only good casting area. I wandered around the lake trying to find a place I could cast from, but the shore was wrapped with a thick fir collar right up to the water’s edge. Finally I came upon a slender log extending thirty feet or so into the shallows. I did a balancing act out to the end of it and frantically began tying on a fly.

Mike yelled gleefully about a big strike he had just had. Glancing up to see if any fish were rising around me, I noticed a V form near the middle of the lake, a V such as a shark fin makes cutting the water, only tiny. The V swept in a wide half circle and—much to my astonishment—came right up to my feet! I stared down into the V to see what was making it, expecting a fish or maybe a large water bug of some sort. But there was nothing there! Nothing visible was making the V!

“Jeepers criminy,” I said to myself. “There’s nothing there.”

While contemplating this curiosity, I glanced again out into the lake. Another V had formed. This one, too, swept in a wide half circle, only in the opposite direction. And it, too, came right up to my feet! I stared down into the V with considerable intensity, protruding my eyeballs for a better look. There was nothing in this V, either.

Being of a scientific bent, I carefully analyzed the situation, taking into account all possibilities for what might have caused the Vs and what could account for each of them to zoom right up to my feet. This process took no more than three seconds and led me to the only logical conclusion.

“Water spirits! Water spirits!” I yelled, rushing past Mike on my way to the trail.

Mike is a calm, practical, no-nonsense man, not easily budged in the direction of panic. Thus it came as no little surprise when he thundered past me on the trail, his fly line snapping like a whip in the wind. He claimed later that he didn’t for one moment believe there were actually water spirits present, “because any person with an iota of intellect knows they don’t exist.” His haste, he explained, was due merely to the fact that he didn’t want to be caught after dark in the mountains with a crazy person. It was clear to me that the lake contained water spirits, but I had no idea there was also a crazy person in the vicinity. Neither of us has returned to the lake since.

Several years passed without my having further confrontations with water spirits.

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