Dave Gourley Survived

I was in hopes that the scar would be with me until my last days, you know one of those conversation starters with the grandkids that would start out with one of them asking "what happened to you there grandpa" ?  Over the past few years the scar is all but gone and I will have to start the story without the scar provoking a question from others.

     In the carribean I was enjoying the last of a ten day adventure with a good friend. We had had a great trip to date catching bonefish and permit in the isolated waters in Mexico near the Belize border. No other anglers in sight for almost 10 days. Nothing but clear water over a beautiful saltwater setting casting to tailing bonefish and permit. On this day the tide was rapidly changing and the permit on the flat were active and could be seen in every direction. The sight of a permit swimming and eating in shallow water is utopia for a saltwater fly rod casting angler wading in a flat.  Deer hunters can get a condition known as "Buck fever" when they encounter a big buck causing the hunter to lose common sense that leads to behavior that prevents them from the task at hand like shooting straight or even walking. On this morning I experienced the flats fishing version of buck fever. I lost my skill set and was wading around the flat frightening fish and worse yet my casting suddenly turned to shit so when I found a permit that was not alerted to my presence I could not make even a simple cast. Simply put I was a mess.       

     One of the rules that I have always lived by while wading in a saltwater flat is to walk gently by sliding your foot steps on the bottom rather then stepping trying not to disrupt the water that consequently alert fish of your presence. Not only is the sliding  method a way to keep your presence stealthy it is also a known method of wading to help prevent one from stepping on a stingray that in turn will whip it's tail with barb down on the intruder. To date I have always taken great pride in one that could find fish without scaring them, two cast a fly in front of them and yes three being prudent on how I slipped thru a flat without stepping on a sting ray. Today I struck out.   

          Bang !  I was shot in the heel with an Ak 47 round from a pirate or even a cartel gangsta. The round had gone thru my wading boot and had lodged deep into my heel bone. As I was falling to my all fours in knee deep water my mind thought the next shot would be certainly to my head. When I looked down in the water my thoughts  changed from being shot to the familiar sight of a stingray. When I fell the culprit scurried away. I was frozen with pain and disbelief. I was on all fours trying to process what had just happened. Questions started racing thru my mind. Can I walk ? Is the sting ray barb stuck in my foot ? Is there a gringo hospital within 6 ours drive ? Will I lose my foot ?  Will I fall to the same fate as the famous crock hunter Steve Irwin ?  My friend looked at me with a true WTF is wrong with you stare as I stood up and staggered to the shore line. I informed him of what had just happened and he said nothing  to insure the outcome. He was talking immediately about infection and amputation less we got to a hospital fast. I could barely get my wading boot off fighting the pain. When I finally got the boot off my foot I noticed about a one quarter inch hole in my heel. It was not bleeding that much at all so I opened the wound to see if the barb had stuck in my heel. Lucky for me it appeared to be just a hole and nothing else.                              

       In the past  I marveled and even commented as I have watched a few of the local spear fisherman with feet of steel walk barefoot over the coral and thorny sharp landscape. I felt I was soft as my Idaho bare foot took each step towards the car over the coral and rocks. In the car we drove back down the coast to the village where we had rented a room from some of our favorite Canadian to Mexico Xpats.  

        To make a long story a little shorter with some hot soapy water and some neosporin I survived this deadly encounter. I had lived while others had not. I lived to be able to hopefully tell the "You ain't going to believe this shit story" to my grandkids. I survived. It is a damn shame the conversation starter scar will be long gone to help with the lead in to start of the great story.                                                                                           Cheers .