Eye of the Storm
Things look different after dark
Robbis Storm

A former Lampasan, Robbis Storm is a world traveler and restaurateur. He can be contacted via e-mail at RStorm453@aol.com.

You knew the boat was in trouble.

Lake Buchanan can be treacherous at night. After dark, no one dares steer that close to the bank -- not if they know what they're doing. Not if they know the lake and realize how many granite boulders, rock ledges, and sawed-off tree stumps lurk just below the surface. Not if they know the lake and remember how many unlighted fishing docks extend out from the bank.

These guys obviously didn't know our lake. Then we heard the words, shouted above the wind and surf into the night air. "HELP! We're lost! How do we get to Thunderbird Resort?"

It can be a scary thing to be out on the water at night, even when you think you know a lake like you know the nail on your own right thumb. I go out after dark fairly frequently, and I have a few key lights that I depend on for landmarks.

My system generally works -- I almost never get lost. And nowadays, when most of us have a GPS in our boat, we can generally pinpoint precisely where we are at all times. But I remember one night a few years ago. I had taken a small foot-powered pedal boat from our house in Morgan Creek. It was a nice cool evening and my legs felt strong. There were no other boats on the water so it felt safe.

It's so easy to lose yourself in the sounds of the night -- the owl hoots, coyote howls, slaps of beaver tails, etc. I pedaled on and on, first west out of our cove and into the main lake, then south, staying fairly close to the shore.

When I reached the Rocky Point peninsula, I turned west again. When I finally stopped at the end of the point, I was about five miles from home. It was getting late, so I decided to take a short cut. The plan was to go north across open water, then turn east into Morgan Creek cutting at least a mile off my trip back to the house. That was the plan.

When you're on the water at night everything changes. In the dark distances deceive you. Waters that seemed familiar become uncharted territory. Landmarks that were once old friends suddenly become strangers.

So I headed north, still enjoying the pleasures of the night. But after a while my legs began to tire. This was taking far longer than I had planned. The first clue that something was amiss came when I saw the headlights of a distant automobile in a place where there were no roads -- at least not on the map I had laid out in my mind.

And then I saw it. How interesting, I thought, from a distance, that house over there looks exactly like Steve and Kathleen Palmour's house in South Silver Creek. Of course that's impossible.

I pedaled closer. Then came another surprise. There was an excellent reason it looked familiar -- it was the Palmour's house. I'd missed the turn and pedaled past the mouth of Morgan Creek. Quite a goof! I was now farther away from home than when I decided to take the shortcut.

When I finally got to bed that night, my legs were so tired it was hard to stand. But I did get home.

I don't know what happened to the lost boat we saw the other night.

Miriam and I had eaten dinner and watched a movie at our friend Heike Jackson's house. It was just after 11 p.m. and we were walking out to our car when we saw the bow and stern lights far too close to the shore and heard that call for help.

I wish I could have boarded the boat and guided the lost fishermen back to Thunderbird, which is only a mile up Morgan Creek from our dock. But the wind and the surf made it impossible for their bass boat to land. From a distance we shouted instructions and pointed them in the right direction.

I don't know whether or not they made it back before morning, but I do know one thing that all of us who love the water should remember: Be careful on an unfamiliar lake -- especially at night. It's all too easy to get in trouble.