As a kid, I was always drawn to the water and into it. We were fishing the Columbia in Canada right below the mountain. The last thing my mom said to me was " whatever you do, don't go on those logs!" She had a friend drown there and never really like me going. I had no intention of going onto those logs, 1/4 way out the river until I saw Grandpa on them. He wasn't falling off them and he was old so why would I? When he moved off the spot, I moved in. I was sure I'd get a nice Dolly in this prime spot. I go to make a huge cast and apparently forgot to open the bail. The hook hooked the log behing the one I was standing on and my huge cast propelled me into the icy fast Columbia. I must have yelled going down as when I bobbed up gasping at the cold, my dad and uncles were pulling me out. I knew I was busted, but it got worse. My dads fishing rod was in the river. I was more afraid of his rath over losing a rod than I was of that freezing water. I told him I'd jump back in and get it. Lucky for me, the hook was still in the log and they just pulled up on the line and the pole came in. They drove my freezing cold body back to the house and my mom took one look at me in disgust. "You went on those damn logs, didn't you?" I escaped my dads anger as he knew I'd get it from mom.

So, not a hooking me story, just hooking the log story.