I had a fairly uneventful Fourth of July, unless you consider trying to cut off one's own hand an event worth reporting. Perhaps that is a bit of an exaggeration, but I suppose it bears retelling.

It all started Friday night. I decided that I would take off on a wild ‘catfishing' adventure. Anything is more adventurous than sleeping. You don't pay for it until the next day.

A wild 'catfishing' adventure includes taking a borrowed fishing pole and a tub of livers to the river, along with a bucket of worms and a large stringer. I can remember what my grandpa used to say, "Catfish are like most young people, boy. They don't ever feel like doing much until after dark." I guess he had a point. Anyway, a friend and I went down a little after midnight to try our luck on the banks of New River. With the moon just a sliver in the sky and the cool mist rolling over like waves of fog, it was about as dark as I ever remember seeing it. I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. To beat all, we didn't even have a working lantern.

So, we improvised. We used the parking lights on his Mercury Sable to help see the poles. A Sable has a long light bar right along the front end that really does a good job lighting up anything that is nearby. Just don't try to get too far off to the sides.

I was also wearing an outfit that would be more appropriate for the middle of the day — a thin T shirt, shorts and tennis shoes without socks. It got pretty cool out after sitting still for awhile.

Back on the subject of lights, my friend also brought along his ‘Jurassic Park' flashlight, which has the head of a dinosaur on the end and pseudo scales on the handle. It makes a roaring noise if you hit one button and lights up inside the dinosaur's mouth if you hit the other. I felt like an idiot every time I tried to use it. I always hit the wrong button and it makes that roaring racket.

Nonetheless, there we were, flashlight and all. As for being near the river at night, despite my inappropriate attire, there is nothing that feels better than the cool evening mist off the water. It cools the body, but it also seems to do something for one's soul.

So, in between all this soul soothing, I decided that I better get a campfire going before I caught pneumonia. I had no paper, no accelerants and no wood prepared. It was a fairly typical evening for me. Why is it that the times I go completely unprepared for something are the times I enjoy myself the most? I guess I expect too much if I plan a whole lot. I'd rather just go and take what comes with a grain of salt, rather than have to worry about it and then go through it, too.

I went off down the bank of the river in search of deadwood for a fire with the Jurassic Park flashlight leading the way. I was praying that I wouldn't see anyone I knew. It wasn't long before I had gathered a couple of armloads and plenty of twigs to get the thing going in between roars. I was also thankful that we were in a fairly secluded spot, what with my dinosaur flashlight and inappropriate attire. As a matter of practical safety, I will point out that the place where we were sitting was a dirt area surrounded by fields of corn, with little or no chance of fire going anywhere (unless you count ‘out' as going somewhere). I try to be careful with fire around any kind of woods, especially as dry as it's been.

It turned out that there was no danger anyway, because after a few minutes of coaxing and work, the fire went out. By this time, my friend had decided his shorts and flip-flops weren't going to cut it. He went to the trunk of his car, removed a roll of paper towels and a roll of black tape and proceeded to make himself look like the Michelin man. "It's keeping my legs warm," he said. I replied, "So would a horse's rear end, but I don't see you putting your legs there."

He ignored me as he continued to tape himself. He also had a black and red nylon coat in his trunk. I hadn't brought anything but a rag and a heavy rope stringer. At least he had someplace to wipe his hands after that and didn't have to keep stealing my rag. I was using it like granny's lap blanket. When you don't have much, it means more to you.

I then proceeded to ask him why he didn't offer me paper towels to help start the fire. After realizing that he had an entire roll of paper towels and other accelerants in his trunk, we had a blazing fire going in just a few minutes. Things were more comfortable after that. After a few hours, I hooked into a really nice catfish, about 30 inches long, and wrestled it onto the bank. Soon afterwards, I called it a night. It was almost 5 a.m. by the time I got to sleep. If you want to know how old you are, stay up all night and then get up about four hours after you lie down. By Saturday, I went from feeling like 21 to feeling like 106 and sickly. I always feel bad when it's time to clean the catfish. In case you don't know, you have to skin a catfish just like you would a furry critter, only it's more difficult and slimy. As far as I know, it is the only fish you have to skin. I was taking off one of the fins when my hand slipped off the fish and my pocket knife sliced through the muscle just below my thumb on my left hand. Instead of filet of fish, I guess I was trying for filet of hand.

After rounding up some paper towels and more black tape, I had my hand in good shape to finish the job. You can do almost anything with paper towels and black tape, I have decided. We finished cleaning the fish and got them cooked up about two hours later.

In retrospect, fishing is something that is more rewarding while you are doing it than it is the day after — and that's a distinction usually only reserved for things you aren't supposed to be doing.

Get more tongue in cheek commentary this week's issue of the Alleghany News!

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