When Everything Goes Wrong (And Why That’s Okay)

It’s been one of those Murphy’s Law sort of weeks—the kind where if something can go wrong, it surely tries to. But when you work really hard at believing that everything works out perfectly, sometimes you just might get a beautiful, if not chaotic, blend of both.

This week certainly tested that theory. Between a hornet infestation, tearing into a wall to fix a leaking faucet, and discovering our six-year-old had “washed” a load of gravel in the laundry house (bless his helpful heart), the universe seemed determined to keep us on our toes. But the standout drama? Our rental boat engines. 

We’ve been nursing along a few aging 25HP Mercury motors for years, and this week, low water and a few unfortunate encounters with hidden rocks sent us on three separate five-hour round trips to the repair shop in Baudette.

But we have the best guests, and they’ve helped us turn a stressful week into one we’ll always remember. Three folks from the wilds of Ohio were out in one of the rentals, fishing the weeds of the creeks. They know these close waters and our fickle-shifting engines, so when their motor suddenly wouldn’t start, these resourceful farmer folk tried everything before throwing in the towel and pulling out the cell phone.

With Tony already en route to Baudette (again), I rallied Gail Anderson, a longtime summer regular, for the rescue mission. After a frantic search, I found him working away in the garden, phone nowhere in sight. But off he took without a moment’s hesitation.

By the time Gail reached the creek, the Ohio boat had drifted further, and he couldn’t spot them. From the Post, I watched him double back, checking their usual fishing holes up the Inlet near Bear River, Poplar and Harrison. My stomach sank—*should’ve made sure he had his phone*—but the Ohioans? They’d taken the delay in stride. When I called to update them, the line erupted with shouts and laughter. 

Turns out, Janice had just landed a muskie nearly as big as she was. 

Gail circled back to our channel as the Ohioans relived the story. Once we pieced together their actual location—farther up the creek—Gail fetched them, towed the boat home, and the Mercury took yet another trip to Baudette.

But that muskie? That’s the story that’ll stick.

So here’s the takeaway: When you’re up a creek without a motor (or a Minnesota limit), keep fishing. Because somehow, it all works out ...and the best tales often start with things going sideways.