19 May 2010
He Didn't Laugh Part 2
)Published on May 19th, 2010 @ 04:45:32 pm, using 1273 words, 46 views
I had been buying in and honestly participating in this early morning race to ocean. As I was looking over the controls and dropping the motors in I saw Dave get a little nervous.
“You are a fishing guide and you don’t know ANYTHING about operating a powerboat? Then how do you go fishing?”
“Hold on Dave, I need to figure this out.”
Just then I accidentally hit the throttle and shot towards the dock and Dave starts screaming.
“Whoa, WHOA, Reverse, Reverse, Reverse!!!!”
Just in the nick of time I pull back and stop short of crunching the dock, but I hanged to long on the reverse move which sends me rocketing towards the ocean wall and Dave starts wailing again about hitting forward.
I get the boat stopped and returned to its heaving position in the dock area and now Dave has turned into a worried boat owner.
Dave - “Maybe I should take her out. You don’t seem to have safe grasp of the controls.”
Me - “I’ll get it eventually, besides this boat looks tough.” I pounded the throttle in neutral for effect.
Dave - “No really, please slowly, slowly bring her around and I’ll jump in.”
Me - “I don’t think I could live with myself bringing bad luck to your new boat on its maiden voyage.”
Dave - “Well, uh, there are exceptions to that rule, and I am making one.”
Me - “You Texas boys are nervous bunch,” And with that I trimmed up the motor and slammed the throttle down in the no wake zone through the tight exit from the Marina. I was like a submarine surfacing and intercontinental missle launching- this warboat had balls.
If this is some Southern test of manhood I am going to show how a Montana boy gets it on. The best policy is always to call a bluff, so I put the “virgin” boat through its paces with a chop eating face spraying sprint across the dark bay right past Devil Dust Dewey’s alleged lair and not a single warning shot was fired from the single wides or the high school kids partying by the bonfire. For effect I came screaming in to the dock and stacked her on a bow wave and kissed up to the dock.
Dave - “First time in a powerboat, huh?
Me - “I guess I’m a natural.”
Dave - “Very funny, now give me back my boat.”
Me - “How about an extra life jacket first.”
He tossed me one with about as much feigned grudgery as what came with the drain plugs. Dave took the wheel and gingerly took us out towards the Texas City Dikes. Along the way out he came clean on the history of the boat - this was an old Coast Guard boat he bought at an auction and he had restored it on the weekends for the last year. The 50 caliber shell stayed aboard for effect even though the empty turret holes were for a search light. The bullet holes were real, but from some vandal kids shooting .22 at it while it wash in auction storage, but the shot pattern gave him some story leverage and made the deal that much cooler for him.
Our first stop was on the leeward side of a big sea wall. Not having done this before I just kept quiet until he told me where to cast. Dave eased us back towards the rocks and then hucked a cinderblock with some frayed rope attached into the rip rap and tied off the boat. Odd to not use an anchor I thought so I asked.
Me - “No anchor Dave?”
Dave - “Why spend $30 on some fancy smancy anchor, when you can find old cinder blocks any where for free.”
Me - “Yeah, I guess so if it works.” Just then I felt the boat pull off its homemade anchor and we started to drift.
Dave - “Hold on, I will try again”
Well we spent the better part of an hour chucking the cinder block over board, coming loose, haul it back in, chuck, repeat. After about the second cycle this part of the boat work became the job of the crew of which I was the only member. Salt soaked and hands raw my last heave found a crevise in the rocks and we held.
Dave - “See, those things work like a charm. Look at all those dumbasses with their fancy anchors fishing up the bank from us.”
Joe - “Exactly.”
Dave - “What was that?”
Joe - “Nothing, just rigging up” and I grabbed rod and started think through how a southern angler might rig up live bait.
Dave quickly explained how to hook the trebles through the shell of the live shrimp and slowly bounce it up tide through the rocks. And away I went - a dry fly junkie from Montana chucking live shrimp into the ocean for fish we were going to club and eat tonight.
I finally figured out about what pace to reel so it stayed above the rocks and still in the fish, only after burning through around a three dozen sinker, bait, leader, treble outfits. After I saw the program I could rig my own setup so I quietly went to re-rigging after each break off. As many flies as my clients go through in a day this seemed to be about right on the learning curve. Dave was so involved his own fishing he didn’t notice. These losses had depleted the small rigging box Dave had given me to work out of and not being able to find more I had to ask the Captain for more iventory.
Me - “Dave, where is the rest of gear?”
Dave - “It’s in the box I gave you.” He didn’t turn his head from the water.
Me - “I used all of that.”
Dave - “Very funny.”
Me - “I am not kidding, its all gone. It was a small rigging box.”
Dave - “Really, that’s all brought for you.”
Me - “What about sharing out of your rigging box there by your foot.”
Dave - “I brought those for me in case I break off. They are specially made for my casting style, they may prove dangerous with your lack of style. This stuff ain’t cheap.”
Me - “I guess that makes me a spectator.”
Dave - “Yeah, but I always perform better with an audience. Plus, we are going to need to have something to fry for dinner and you look to be short on that skill. You do throw that cinder block like a champ however. Stick to your strengths. Maybe this fishing thing isn’t for you.”
Me - “I am fishing guide for a living Dave.”
Dave - “So people pay you to teach how to fish like I just saw you do?, Wow, good work if you can get it.”
Before I flared about the the lack of art belying this particular redneck bait chunking trip in a war boat Dave threw me his rigging box. Just as I made my next cast to get back in the game and I noticed smoke coming from Devil Dust Dewey’s console.
Dave - “She does that, it will go out eventually.”
Me - “Drowning, not burning is downside of torched boats.”
Dave - “Boy, you Montana boys can whine.”
Just then the console makes a loud boom and Dave’s attention lept from fish to flames and he starts in on the Dewey’s boat like an ex-wife at a alimony hearing.
Remember Joe, he didn’t smile.
Part 3 coming soon.
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