If you’re having a hard time figuring out what’s going on in the image above, that is an airplane. In my local bass lake. Completely submerged in about 15 feet of water. A Cessna 182 to be precise. Last weekend I was en-route for a little largemouth and carp action on the fly when I received an excited phone call from my brother, who’s a pilot. He told me he had just heard that a plane had gone in the lake we fish. Granted, this lake is at the end of our local general aviation runway, but still…

I arrived to find some sheriff’s deputies, a couple of boats on the lake and some airport employees all standing around with looks on their faces that said, “uh, what do we do now”? I couldn’t get an exact story, but after the crash apparently the guy got himself out of the airplane, swam to shore and headed to the hospital. One gentleman I know who fishes the lake quite a bit mentioned that he saw the whole thing, and had watched another regular angler leave the spot where the plane hit less than five minutes before it happened.

I proceeded to put my little Jon boat on the water, loaded up my rods, trolling motor, battery and beer, crossed my fingers in the hope that no more errant planes would be crash landing that afternoon. I was about to shove off when the Sheriff’s deputy asked me what I was doing. I looked at the boat, looked back at her, and calmly said, “going fishing” and away I went.