I was miserable; I was sore. I had broken a reel and my inflatable life jacket had burst open when it got wet by mistake. Then my phone went off, notifying me that my Day 2 partner in the St. Croix Bassmaster Open at Wheeler Lake was Clay Dyer.
Let me rewind a bit. I have lived in the Tennessee Valley for 19 years, and Wheeler Lake was the first place I fished after I moved here in 2004. I have a love/hate relationship with the place. Don’t get me wrong, the fishing is improving, and the Decatur flats were producing for many anglers. It just didn’t produce for myself and my Day 1 partner, Jason Lambert.
Lambert is an excellent fisherman and is known as a Tennessee River hammer. He belongs on the Bassmaster Elite Series but has struggled so far this season in the Bassmaster Opens EQ field.
It was no fault of his that I had a tough day. I had a negative attitude going into the event with the lack of fish I was catching. Then, the pounding we took when a storm moved in late in the day that had beaten me down further. And to make matters worse, the hotel we were staying in didn’t exactly meet expectations. I was totally defeated.
But I drew Dyer for Day 2 of the event. It was as if God said, “You think you have problems, fish with this dude for a day.”
For those of you who don’t know, Dyer was born without legs or a left arm and only a stub of a right arm. He beat these ridiculous odds to become a professional angler complete with a full list of sponsors that most would envy.
I’ve known Dyer for years, he has appeared on three of my radio shows (Bassmaster Radio), we have hosted weigh-ins together but we have never fished together. And we weren’t going to at Wheeler because I was headed home to Winchester, Tenn. I was ready to pull out of the event.
My wife and I checked out of the hotel, and we were headed home when I saw I had missed a couple of calls from Dyer. I explained to her that not only was I sore, but I was also hopeless. To be honest I wasn’t totally comfortable fishing with Dyer since I had no idea how he did what he did on the water. I was being totally selfish. Then I called him and that energetic, upbeat voice blared through the speakers of my truck, “Hi, buddy!”
I explained to Dyer that my back was killing me, and I might not make it in the morning.
“Wow, I hate that for you, and I will be praying for you,” said Dyer.
At that moment I felt so convicted. As we said goodbye Dyer’s phone was still open, and we heard him say, “I think I just lost another co-angler.”
At least that’s what my wife heard, and when I looked over at her she was crying and overcome with emotion.
I asked her what was wrong and she said, “You’re complaining about your back and feeling sorry for yourself and Dyer is praying for you.”
Oh, man. I was wallowing in my own self pity, and the guy with no legs and half an arm was praying for me? I called him back and arranged a time to meet in the morning “if I felt better” buying some time of my own. My wife wanted me to go back to the hotel, but I told her it was only an hour and a half from the house, and I could just go from home if I was going to go.
“You better go fish with that man,” this was now spiritual for her.
Yet, I was still concerned about being on the water with him not knowing how he ran the boat or fished other than what I’d seen in videos.
The alarm was set for 3:30 a.m., and I woke up at 1:30 a.m. to get a drink and talk to God for a minute. And the decision was made. I would be such a coward to not go. I would never forgive myself. This was no longer about the fishing.
I arrived at the ramp at 5:17 a.m. but couldn’t get Dyer on the phone. Then his dad called and said Dyer’s phone was acting up. He was there to go out with Dyer that day because he didn’t like him going out alone especially on big water.
“I’m here,” I said when I first saw Dyer.
And moments later, I was in the boat joking with him as numerous fishermen in the basin at Ingalls Harbor motored over to wish him luck and bust his chops.
“You want some, come get some,” Dyer would say.
Everyone would laugh. He was the life of the basin, encouraging others to have a great day. Then we took off and I would just glance over to see how he had put his boat on plane and how he handled the boat.
Dyer was doing all of that with half an arm and no hands. With his permission, I videoed him and sent a clip to my sons.
“How is he driving the boat?” came one response. “I don’t know, I’m terrified to look over.”
He drove the boat for some 30 minutes until we settled into the Elk River to fish. By the way, the Elk is known to be very treacherous area with timber all around.
And then there was the fishing. And as I watched Dyer struggle to do the simplest things whether it be tying a knot or cutting a lure off with scissors in his mouth, I was overwhelmed with the amount of dedication this man had to his craft. How much do you love fishing or anything to put that much effort into doing it? And by the way, his casting was amazing. Not out in the open water, but to shoreline targets and skipping wacky rigs under low hanging trees.
This day was not about the fishing. We talked about life, faith, his speaking schedule and family. I was honest with him about my hesitancy to get in the boat with him, and I thanked the Lord that I did. We caught nothing and left with empty livewells, but my heart was full.
Dyer is one of the most amazing people on the face of the planet. And I’ll never forget those eight hours in the boat with him.
