The cry of the loon echoed across the lake: "He's going to die, he's going to die."

I was threading my rod, preparing to launch my float-tube. My buddy, Jim, had gone ahead, paddling my canoe. He was experienced in fishing from a canoe, but I assured him anyway, that the pontoon floats we'd attached would allow him to stand and cast.

"Heck, you can even stand on the gunwale and pee over the side", said I.

The loons on the dock repeated their cry.

Dropping my rod, I looked to the lake. Indeed, my canoe appeared to be upside-down. Indeed, it was upside-down and Jim was clinging to it.

Reacting instinctively, I looked for his rod. He had it in hand so I knew we could salvage the situation.

The pontoons were still attached to the boat, so I knew he would float. The question was, how cold was the water and could he kick to shore?

The cry of the loon increased in volume, and sent a new message: "You gotta go get him".

I contemplated kicking the tube the several hundred yards to the canoe and then trying to tow it. It didn't seem like a likely solution. Besides, I couldn't get the flippers on with the loon shouting in my ear.

Racing to the car, I grabbed my rescue throw-bag. I'd intended to give it to him to use for anchoring, but neglected to do so.

Reaching the shore, I gave a mighty throw. Fifteen feet of line unravelled, the rest trapped in the bag. I drew it back and gave another mighty throw. All fifty feet lay like a streak of sunlight across the water, about half-way to where he was.

The loons were fleeing the lake, muttering to themselves.

Reaching the line, Jim relaxed and enquired if anyone had seen a red bag he'd had earlier.

"There's three Hardy reels and a thousand flys in that bag," he said.

Searching the waters, all we could see was his cap.

We dragged Jim from the water and turned over the canoe. Underneath were the paddles and Jim's red bag.

We would have a good day after all.

No we didn't catch any fish. Jim dried out as best he could and took the canoe out, without the floats. Spent the afternoon being blown around the lake by a wind that comes up every afternoon.

I got a look at my Adams from a trout, which gave me the encouragement to continue fishing drys even though there were no rises.

Jim fished leeches and wooly-buggers to no avail.

Nobody we talked to had a fish.

Great time, good story.

- There are no steelhead.