Gone Fishing…. From the memory files
The weather has become most pleasant in Carolina of late, barring a few bad storms. When it’s like this it really puts me in the mood for a little fishing. Alas though the rod and reels are still in storage and the line has yet to be changed, but nonetheless it reminds me of a fishing trip many years ago….the following is an abbreviated memory….I hope you (catch) a laugh out of it…pun intended.
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I was all of ten years old and it was 5am that summer morning. The darkness outside kept me in a partial slumber despite the smell of bacon cooking on the Coleman stove outside the tent. I could hear my dad rummaging through his tackle and muttering to himself “This one, nah…maybe this one”. I knew from previous trips that he was looking for that lucky lure that was sure to land one big enough to provide supper for the three of us. When I say three, I mean so by it being me, my dad and my dad’s friend from work who we had in tow; they called him Jonesy. He was really a quite likeable fellow although he had a tendency to hit a bottle early in the day, and today was to be no exception. Never could I imagine someone washing down bacon and eggs with Jim beam.
There was one thing about fishing with dad and that was he wanted to be on the water by the time the sun broke the horizon. So there I am half asleep trying to eat breakfast and remain interested in where we were going to go and how we were going to fish that one great spot. I didn’t fully awake until we shoved off in the small rented boat. The morning’s breeze slapped me awake like a bad dream. I remember dad leaning over at the back of the small boat and pulling the rope of the 5HP Johnson motor. It was on the 4th or 5th pull that it sprang boisterously to life startling the birds in the nearby trees that were still asleep. With the motor humming along we headed out of the cove near the campground and out into the open water of Santee Cooper which is down in the lower part of the state. (here is a link for those who are interested in seeing more about the lake…be sure to click on the photo gallery)
For those not familiar with Santee and don’t want to go to the website I will give you a few clues. For one it is huge and two, its coves and cypress stumps made wonderful fishing. Thirty or so minutes into the ride, dad steered the small boat in the direction of what looked like a small river feeding into the lake. Dad explained that it was at the mouths of these tributaries that some of the best fishing could be found. The sun was just barely up and I could see the glint of a pint bottle sticking out the back of Jonesy’s back pocket. Dad killed the motor and this is where I came in to do my part with the paddle (the noise of the motor scares the fish).
I made a line towards the shallows like dad had said to do. I watched Jonesy take another hit off the now almost empty pint and shove it back into his pocket. The smell of swamp and decay hit me strong as we approached the mouth of the river. Cypress knees jutted out of the water like little pointed fingers and Spanish moss hung in long garlands from the low overhanging branches. Dad and Jonesy pulled their rods and began to cast using top water plugs. I sat silently admiring my surroundings when without warning there was a loud thud. I rather large black snake now shared the small boat with us.
It apparently had fallen from one of the low hang trees and landed directly in the boat with us three. I froze as I watched the monster slither back and forth trying to escape his new home. That was when I saw Jonesy who was already half lit reach into his other back pocket. This time instead of a pint bottle, it was a revolver. Without saying a word other than…( and I will not repeat that here), he began to open fire on the poor creature. POW…POW…POW, then dad yelling…”stop it you idiot, you are going to kill us all” Dad then grabbed the paddle from me and lifted the snake from the bottom of the boat which by now was taking on water due to three pretty good size holes left by the bullets. With the snake now happy and swimming away, dad moved us all to the back of the boat and cranked up the old Johnson. This was done in an effort to keep the running at a tilt to keep the water from coming in. The good news is we made it back to camp albeit without the catch of the day. The good thing I guess that came of this was…Dad never let Jonesy go hunting with us.
J. Allen Wilson © 3/2208
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Keep loaded weapons from firing? Keep a watch for snakes? Just kidding, wonderful memory and thanks for sharing...
Be always safe,
Karen
You've told a good 'un - no whopper here! Glad you're safe - we had massive flooding rains yesterday, be careful, headed your way.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.