Trying to convince my wife that getting a boat would save space, because I could store all my fishing gear in it, was not successful.

My brother owns a canoe that he lets me borrow for weekend trips to the Uintas, but I'm a little canoe-shy after a paddling mishap on a river in Virginia last summer.

I remember, not so fondly, trying to use those cheap little blow-up rafts as a fishing vessel while a kid, but Huck Finn I am not. There is a vague memory of a large hook puncturing the side of the raft while in the middle of the lake.

The closest thing I've ever owned to a boat is a float tube I bought 15 or so years ago, used a total of five or six times and now in the rafters of my garage collecting dust.

I'm not against boats, or other floating contraptions, but I learned early that they can be a major pain in the behind. There's that whole backing-up-the-trailer thing, which still makes me feel like a 5-year-old every time I try it.

My best friend's family had a ski boat during my teenage years. I think I even managed to get up on those wide planks a couple of times while being dragged through the water behind it, but the real value in a boat, as everyone surely knows, is being able to fish in places you can't when stuck on shore.

Of course, fishing can often be just as good from shore as it is from a boat, but there is a widely recognized perception that you will catch more fish if you're standing on a piece of wood or fiberglass, complete with a motor.

One of the worst - no, the worst - sunburn I ever got was on a fishing trip in my friend's boat to Soldier Creek Reservoir before it became part of Strawberry.

We had a tiny trolling motor attached to the back of the ski boat, but no way to steer it other than to have someone sit at the back of the boat bent over in a torturous position. As the guest on the trip, I felt obligated to contribute to our day's success. So I sat down and steered. Multiple line tangles and about four hours later, my back - I was a teenage boy; of course I took off my shirt - looked like the hood of a cherry-red fire engine.

During a trip to Bear Lake on the same boat, I experienced a moment that gave me nightmares for months. I was asked to throw the anchor off the front of the boat. I did so and watched as the tangled line raced off the side. At some point I noticed that the other end of the rope was not attached to the boat and tried to grab the line.

My arm got tangled in the rope and, if my friend hadn't been there to grab me, I may have been pulled into the water and become permanent buddies with the Bear Lake monster.

Not all of my boating memories are so traumatic. There have been an amazing number of trips without mishap - and some on which we even managed to catch some fish.

As long as I have buddies willing to put up with me being a tag-along, I'll continue to let them be the boat owners.

brettp@ sltrib.com