It really got exciting when Don H said, 'No sweat, Rich, I'll get it free'

Last Thursday, I spent the day at Pyramid Lake with two of my fishing partners: Don Hettrick of Carson City and Rich Bachle of Fernley.

The three of us were in Don's big new boat and we had traveled to Pyramid Lake to troll for Lahontan cutthroat trout.

Don Hettrick is my permanent fishing partner and is hereafter identified in this column as Don H so as to avoid any confusion with Don Q.

Having fished with Don H many times in the past, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this would be another interesting day in the outdoors.

If you have followed our adventures in the past on this Outdoors page, you are keenly aware that many zany things happen whenever the two Dons are together. Last Thursday was no exception, and here's why:

Let me begin by stating that there is no way on God's green earth that Don H can steer his boat in a straight line for more than 12 feet. That's a fact, Jack!

We traveled in all kinds of weird patterns that looked like "B's," "D"s," "O"s," "P"s," "U"s," "V's" and "W's."

While trolling those patterns, we were either in 2 feet of water or it was more than 200 feet deep. We trolled anywhere from Mach 10 speed, all the way down to an absolute dead stop.

On one occasion, we probably set a new national record when in about 2 feet of water, Don H snagged up all three of our downrigger balls, all three of our lures and polished off the props of the trolling motor in that shallow sand.

The three of us had a heck of a time connecting Don H's brand new electronic fish locator to its two wires and putting it on the mount. He had made the wires too short and we finally had to take the mount apart to attach the two wires.

Then once the fish locator was working, Don H did not know how to operate it because he had left the operating instructions back home.

On the downrigger that Don H was using, he had a new clamp, which releases the fishing line from the downrigger cable when a fish hits.

Unfortunately he had the wrong type of clamp, and it would have taken a minimum of a Great White Shark to pull his line out of that clamp. It required both of us working together to pull his line out of the clamp whenever a fish struck his lure.

On countless occasions, Rich or I would shout a loud, urgent warning to Don H like:

"We're getting too close to that other boat," "You're cutting across the back of that other boat," "You're trolling across the front of that other boat," "You're headed right for the middle of that other boat," "We're going in a circle," "Our lines are going across the motor," "You're heading right for shore."

One time, Don H was running the boat way too slow and Bachle's lure dropped to the bottom and got snagged.

Then, it really got exciting when Don H said "No sweat, Rich, I'll get it free."

He backed up the boat at about Mach 3, ran over Bachle's line, wrapped it around the prop, snapped off the line and lost the lure. Yep! He got it free!

Near the end of the day, the motor was running rough, sputtering, coughing, missing and belching out enormous clouds of white smoke. You could barely see Don H through the dense smoke.

Bachle suggested replacing the spark plugs. Don H said there were some spares in the compartment on the side of the boat. Bachle found two spark plug boxes, opened one and pulled out an oily, black and dirty-looking plug. A confused Bachle asked Don H if these were the spares. Don H replied that they were the two that did not work the last time he changed the plugs, and he had saved them for spares!

About the time Don H was having trouble with the motor, he told us that we were running out of gas in the portable tank.

I asked if he had a spare tank.

He replied "Well, of course, I have a spare tank and it's full of gas. But I left it home."

When we finally limped back to the dock, Rich and I helped Don H put his boat back on the trailer and snug it down for the long trip back home.

The very last task of the day was when the three of us put the canvas cover on the boat and snapped all of the cover snaps to the boat.

Unfortunately we had to do it twice. The first time, Don H got himself snapped inside, under the cover, and had to be freed.

Finally, before you ask the obvious question, "Yes, we caught fish. Rich and I each caught 9 and Don H had 6."

• Bet Your Favorite Pigeon

Bet your favorite pigeon he can't tell you who caught the biggest fish of the day.

If he grins and says, "Rich and Don Q each caught a 23-inch Cutt," he might have been watching our zany antics.

• Don Quilici is the Outdoors editor for the Nevada Appeal.