Saturday, April 16, 2011

Sail Away

Well, we've started seeing lots of king mackerel, sharks, and other species including sailfish.  Take a look at the picture below.  I haven't had the opportunity to meet the fisherman so I don't know his name.  Sorry.

This sailfish seemed to have been attacked by a large predator.  It was also sick and very slim for a sailfish this large.  I heard that it was approximately 7-feet long and only weighed around 35lbs.

It was caught in the skinny water (shallow water) on Navarre Beach at the pier.  A day later we saw a healthy happy one swimming near enough to the end of the pier that many of us got a couple of casts at it.  No bites though.  Maybe next time.

Photo courtesy of Navarre Beach Pier at http://www.fishnavarre.com/.

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This morning (04/16/2011), the wind almost kept me from staying more than 15 minutes.  As usual, I made one more cast and BAM!  Spanish mackerel.  I fought him a few moments and my line went slack.  Crap, I thought.  I slowly retrieved my line and BAM AGAIN!  This time I set the hook hard.  Suddenly my line went slack again.  Really!?!  I felt something like my lure was fouled up, just not pulling through the water right.  As I reeled in, I saw that I indeed had a Spanish mackerel, or part of one.  It would have went 14-16 inches, but something big came along and bit him off, cleanly I might add, right behind the gills.  All I pulled up was his head.  Can you belee dat?!

I cast a few more times and BAM-BIGGITY-BAM-BAM!!  The biggest fish I had ever hooked so far.

I swear to God on the Holy Bible.

I fought whatever it was for a good 15 minutes or so.  Two of us saw the fish and could not tell if it was a small king or a humongous Spanish.  Either way, ten pound line and a six foot Ugly Stik was no match.  The fish came to the surface a few times, caught a glimpse of the big ugly mug at the other end of the line (me) and hauled ass each time.  The last time, it darted around a pylon and SNAP!  Line broke, Ugly Stik still intact (you can't break them things).

Yes sir-ree, Bob.  That is my "big-fish-that-got-away" story this week.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

The Queen of Kings

This is Ms. Pat - the woman, the myth, the legend.  She caught two fish on her first three casts today.  One is this 20+lb. king mackerel.  I heard stories about Ms. Pat being a king catchin' pro.  Watchin' her put the heat on this fella, I know the stories are true.  Time for some of Ms. Pat's Mack Salad.

Ms. Pat - The Queen of Kings

Friday, April 8, 2011

Penn 850

They say the pen is mightier than the sword.  My Penn 850.
I wonder if it is mightier than a swordfish.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Stranded


“Jeeezuuus.  Is anyone there?  Heeellp!”
In the near distance, he heard voices amid the popping sounds of burning.  “Hey.  I hear someone over there.  Keep hollerin.  We’re comin.”
“Please help me.  I can’t move.”
Daylight poured inside the remnants of the cockpit as the roof lifted away.  A huge silhouette reached in, touching, probing.  Pain shot through his leg.
“Stop.  Please stop.”  He saw a man’s face.
“Hold on.  We gotta get that outta there.”  The big guy pointed somewhere underneath the pain.
“Oh my.  That’s...oh my,” said a female.
“OK, buddy.  This is gone hurt.  Just get ready.”
The big guy leaned in and POW!  The pain before that moment was nothing.  Now it was vicious.
“Help me get’m out,” he said.
A few yards out of the wreckage, pilot Todd Garrison finally saw the damage.  A older woman kneeled next to his head.
“Young man, I’m a nurse.  You are going to be alright, but you must stay awake.  We don’t want you succumbing to shock.”
“Stay here.  I’m gone see what I can find,” said the big guy.
“Hurry.  He is losing blood fast,” she said.
“I can’t feel my legs.  How bad is it?”
She tallied the damage and said, “It’s not good.  If we don’t get you patched up, you’re going to lose your leg.”
“Jesus.  How many more are alive?”  Endorphins started kicking in.
“Just you, me, and Carl so far.  I’m Susan.”
“I don’t know what happened.  I lost all my gauges, then no power.  I tried.  I really tried.”
“Don’t upset yourself now.  Save your strength.”
She began wrapping torn fabric around Todd’s leg.  Carl walked up.
“I found these.”  He held scissors, a computer keyboard, and a watch, maybe a stopwatch.  “How is he?”
“Better than he was.  I need the cord off that keyboard.”
Carl jerked the cord out of the keyboard and handed it to Susan.  She tied it around Todd’s upper leg.  He winced each time she tugged.
“As long as we don’t move him, he should be fine.”
“Hey, buddy.  Names Carl.  You gone be fine.”
“I can hear her, and my names not buddy.  It’s Todd.”
“My bad.  Didn’t mean nothin by it.”
“Gentlemen, please.  We need to stick together to get through this.”
“Sorry, Carl.  I didn’t mean to snap.  The pain...”
“It’s all good.  We gone make it.  Right, Ms. Sue?”
“We made it this far.  I don’t intend to quit now.”
“Hey, Carl.  Did you happen to see a bright orange box?  It’s got a cylinder on one end.  The flight recorder.  It should send out a signal so they can find us.”
“Naw.  I’ll go look again.  How big?”
“Couple of feet long.”
Carl took off.  Susan looked at Todd and smiled.
“Do you think they’ll come?”
“If the flight recorder is intact, they should.  Those things don’t always make it though.”
Her smile faded.
Minutes passed.  Carl yelled in the distance.
“I think I found it.”
As he approached, Susan’s stomach tightened.  Carl was carrying what she thought was the box, but in two pieces.
“Oh my,” she said.
“Is this it?” asked Carl
Todd looked it over.  It was definitely smashed.  His training kicked in.
“OK.  You need to do exactly what I say.”
Carl nodded.
“See if you can get that cover off that piece.”
Carl took the scissors out of his pocket and began turning screws.  In moments, the cover was off.
“Good.  Now bring it down so I can see.  Hmmm.  You see that there?”
“The blue thang?”
“Yeah, the blue thing.  If we can energize the blue thing, it should start signaling again.”
Carl thought for a moment.  He picked up the keyboard and smashed it against the ground.
“Carl!  What are you...?”
“It’s alright, Ms. Sue.  I’m gettin some wire.”
Then he removed the battery from the stopwatch.  He connected the battery to the blue thing with a short length of wire.
“Who are you, MacGyver?  Good thinking, Carl,” Todd said.
In no time, the blue capacitor energized and a small red LED began flashing inside the box.
“Is that right?” Carl looked at Todd.
“That’s exactly right....buddy.”
Carl smiled at the joke.
Susan let out a huge breath. “Thank God.  Now what?”
“Now we wait.”

Monday, April 4, 2011

Pole Breaker

The large Spanish mackerel on the end went right at 24" long and over 3 lbs.  This guy (or gal) fought like hell.  So hard indeed  that he, or she, broke the tip of my Penn rod.

I shall get my revenge by way of the dinner table.  Oh yes.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Spanish Mackerel

I caught five Spanish mackerel this morning at the pier.  This was the big fella.  He's gonna make a great sandwich.  I mean, he's not gonna make a sandwich.  He's gonna be on a sandwich.  Whatever.

Nice Spanish Mackerel caught 03-26-11 from Navarre Beach Pier.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Mountain Surprise

They said it couldn’t be done. And so far they’d been right. Search parties were sent out for the first two teams attempting to do it. No luck--for the teams or the search parties.
That really didn’t bother me much. I loved the challenge. What bothered me was being away from my family for so long. It was gonna take weeks to ascend that rocky face. The only company I’d have would be Harry. Harry was my best friend. I was there for him when Linda died. And now, he’d be there for me when I needed him most.
After all the interviews and cameras and doctors touching here and probing there, we set out for the top of Mount Winkbackatcha. The first ten thousand feet were easy. The second, not so much. Around twenty-five is when I lost Harry.
I only heard him leave the world. Kinda glad now. I’d hate having a visual memory like that. The terrifying scream trailing down and away was bad enough.
Rest in peace, Harry, my friend.
I was by myself. Me and the snow-covered rocks. The air so thin, I thought I would give up with each step. But I kept going. For Harry. For my family. For me.
When I pulled myself over the last ledge, nothing happened. No band playing. No photos. No interviews. Just me and the thin air on top of Mount Winkbackatcha. In my head, I had imagined a larger feeling, having just completed what no other man on Earth could do. Nothing.
I began to look around, through the clouded air for a place to camp. I nestled in on top of that glorious peak just before nightfall on the nineteenth day. I was so tired, I can’t remember setting up camp. But, I will never forget what happened next.
Middle of the night on top of a mountain is very quiet except for the wind. So when I heard the ticking, I immediately jumped to my feet. The dark was a thick as black fabric. I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear it. I’d jerk my head looking for where it was coming from and then it would be behind me. I could hear it. Clipping, ticking sounds. I wanted Harry. But not so much that I wanted his ghost up there on that mountain scaring me silly.
“Who’s there?”
Silence answered me. I figured my imagination and lack of oxygen was getting to me. Then I heard it again.
Clip.
Clip, clip.
Tick.
What in the...
That’s when I saw it. Where the noise was coming from. I could not believe how my eyes deceived me. Is that...? No, It couldn’t be. I’m going crazy.
“You are not crazy, my son,” said the most beautiful voice I’d ever heard.
“Are you...,” I said, hoping I was crazy.
“Yes. I am the Way and the Light. I am Love and Life. I am...”
“God,” I said.
I couldn’t believe I was talking to God. Then I saw Him bend His head down. I jerked mine down as well assuming that is what you do when God is bowing His head.
Then the ticking started again. No praying, just clip, clip, tick, clip.
I opened one eye to see what He was doing.
Oh my, is He doing what I think He’s doing? Is He.... He IS!!!
God was clipping His toenails in my presence.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Booth or Table?

     “Would you like a booth? Or a table?” asked the young woman.
     “Don’t matter.”
     She led us to a table near the corner, a red candle in the center. Other patrons ate and talked quietly nearby. Place was packed.
     “Your server will be right with you.”
     “Thanks.”
     We sat. Ellen reached for the menu. I reached for the beer list. I felt her looking.
     “Don’t say a word. It’s my birthday and I’m having a beer.”
     “I didn’t say anyth…,” she said.
     “You didn’t have to.”
     “Please don’t be that way. I wanna have a good night.”
     “Me too.”
     “Then don’t drink.”
     The back of my neck got hot. I hated when she said crap like that. I know I haven’t been a saint in the past, but c’mon. I only drank on special occasions now. And when she didn’t know.
     “Hello. Welcome to Florence’s. My name is Candy and I’ll be your server this evening. Can I get you something to drink, maybe an appetizer?”
     “Yes. I’ll have a Guinness.”
     “OK. And for you, mam?”
     “Just water, please.”
     “Alright. Can I interest you in some cheese sticks or Florence dip?”
     “No thanks,” I said.
     “OK. Be right back with your drinks.”
     Candy walked away, shaking her rear back and forth like a high school girl can. A young couple was being seated in a booth along the wall. Guy was the tall, dark, and handsome type, probably made of money. Girl was kinda cute for a goth chick. Skin pale, black everything else. We made eye contact. She smiled. I smirked.
     “You gonna do that all night?” Ellen asked.
     “Do what?”
     “You know what,” she said.
     “Just decide what you’re gonna eat and leave me alone. I ain’t hurting nobody.”
     “You’re hurting me, Jerry.”
     I let it go and looked around the room. Ellen gently put her menu on the table and crossed her arms, not really looking at anything. I could tell we were heading down the same one-way like always. Don’t do this. Don’t do that. Why don’t you love me…blah…blah…blah. I hated it.
     “Here you go.” Candy placed our drinks on the table. “Are you guys ready to order?”
     “I’ll have a Caesar salad,” Ellen said.
     “Is that it? C’mon. Eat something,” I said.
     “I’m fine," she pouted.
     “Suit yourself. Mam, I’ll have the filet, rare, baked potato, loaded."
     “OK. It’ll be out shortly.”
     We waited in silence. I pretended to gaze back and forth around the room. I glanced back at the goth chick. She was gone. I turned to Ellen, knowing she probably caught me. The goth chick was sitting across from me.
     “Can I help you?” I asked her.
     “Funny,” she said, pursing her black lips. “If you’re gonna get drunk, I’d rather just go home. I’m in no mood.” She grabbed Ellen’s purse.
     “Whoa. What are you doing?” I grabbed her arm. “That’s my wife’s purse. You need to leave this table.”
     “Stop it, Jerry,” she said, now obviously upset.
     I stood up. “Look. I don’t know who you are, but I’m about to call the cops if you don’t get up and leave us alone.  Where's my wife?” I said, glancing around her.
     “Please stop,” she pleaded. “Let’s just go home.”
     I looked over at the guy. Sitting there across from him was Ellen.
     “Ellen, what are you doing?” I asked, walking over, grabbing her arm.
     “Hold on there, buddy. Don’t touch my wife,” said the guy.
     “Your wife? This is my wife. Ellen, get up. Let’s go.”
     He stood up and approached me the way a guy about to kick someone's ass might approach. “Dude, I’m getting pissed. Unhand my wife before I drop you!”
     “Let’s go, Jerry, you’re drunk,” yelled the goth chick behind me.
     Then, as fast as it all went wrong, I remembered. I looked at Ellen. She was scared, shaking. I let go of her arm. I looked back at the goth chick. She was crying, black running down her cheeks.
     Ellen, I thought. She is Ellen. The goth chick is Ellen. It came at me like a rush of cold air.
     “Let’s go, please,” she begged.
     “Listen to your wife, buddy,” said the guy.
     “I’m sorry. I…I……don’t know what happened.” I felt everyone in the restaurant looking at me. Slowly, I began walking away, wondering what the hell just happened. The little goth chick, Ellen, my wife, grabbed my hand and led me out.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Dog Red Rum


He had finally made it back home. Whether he believed the events that had transpired or not, they had happened. Sitting less than comfortably in his favorite chair, he was sure of that. The proof physically hurt in his extremities. The scars of the final fight would irritate him forever.
He lit another cigarette.
Flames in the fireplace bounced dim light about the room. He wondered if it might be a sign of his eternity. After all, he had led them against the Almighty. He was trained and unleashed against Him for the benefit of mankind. Now, doubt seemed more blasphemous than the act of saving the world from God’s Armageddon.
He puffed his cigarette.
Until now, saving the world was necessary. Briefly, even exciting. Suddenly, even with everyone still alive, the world felt empty to him.
He pulled another lung full of smoke. Relax, he thought. It’s over. It’s all over now. God and His army have fallen at the hand of man.
There is no one left to fight.