Lloyd and I are actually in Branson visiting family right now and having a great time, but I have to tell these other stories from the weekend so I don’t forget them.
The big rain that caused the flooding in the bunkhouse actually did a number on the whole area. The lake was flooded so much that the beach where we usually hang out was underwater, and the dock/slide that is anchored in the bay had broken free and floated away. Some kind soul down the lake found it and tethered it, so Rachel, Sam, their daughter Anna, their friend Kirk, Sam’s brother Doug and little ol’ me went on a recovery mission. We took the pontoon and drove along, avoiding the sticks and debris floating on the water, and also trying to avoid the logs in the water.
The nice people who tethered it were very helpful. The guys had to figure out how it was anchored, which meant that Sam dove underneath the dock in that filthy water. That was super brave. They had to unfasten some bolts and then haul up – by hand – three concrete-filled five-gallon jugs. It was a miracle that no one got rope burns. Wha did I do this whole time? I watched. Go, me.
With the anchor on top, they tied the dock to the boat and we crawled very, very slowly back to camp. I sent a text to Lloyd asking for a warrior’s welcome, but he just took a photo. Humph.