Hold your horses Mr.
Before I move onto paradise in Maryland, I need to say a few more words about my first 7 years of life---first of all--I don't remember the first 3--which were spent in a place called Baileys Cross Roads-sp?-Va.-in a little brick house--which my parents bought right after dad got home from the war--WW2--
They sold that house when dad started his own business--in D.C
If things were rocky around our house with the arguments etc--they were tempered by the pure enjoyment of going to my Grandparents house every Sunday after church--thank God for Grand Parents!!!
I loved them to death--there house there yard, their dogs--Rusty and Chico--the fun and excitement they stirred in us with stories and teaching us things and--Grandad allowing us to make money doing chores and always he was handing out 50 cent pieces---and the food--let me tell you--I may have had a spartan existance Mon -Sat--with mom being the worlds worse cook--but come Sunday Grandmother C--would serve the worlds greatestmeals and desserts----she even let us help snap peas and lick the bowl of cake batter--I'm going to go into a lot more detail about the Grandparents influence on us and the joy they brought--and salute them right now---they are both gone from this earth but not from my heart or memories-------- Rick The Codger
Thursday, April 30, 2009
My Favorite Place
Part way through 2nd grade at Walter Reed Elementary in Arlington Va. in 1952--dad got a new job in Edgewater Maryland--and we moved from the red brick apts. called the Waldorf--and it was the most memorable move in my young life--I was moving to paradise!!!
First we went there to hunt for a house---and after I saw the place--I didn't care what we lived in--it was on the water--almost every house had a dock or a boathouse--Mom and dad narrowed it down to two houses--the first place was on the far side of the cove--2 story with knotty pine paneling throughout--fire places a basement--large guest room upstairs--with 10 beds for company----cots but--looked like a dorm---they said ya get a lot of company here.
There was a long boatdock and at the end of it was a cabin cruiser that came with the house----oh brother!!!PLEASE PLEASE-PLEASE---the parents liked it but felt it was a little steep--for them--and then we looked at the other house---------and behind curtain number two--our house in Paradise---
Let me describe this house--it was a single level house sitting on 2 1/2 acres--with huge trees--it was large--with hardwood floors throughout--and a massive porch across the front--and a basement--the innner walls close to the porch came down to allow seabreeze into bedroooms--the cove was across the st. and down the bottom of a dirt road--and there at the bottom was our own boat dock//let me rephrase that--our own Boathouse--it had stalls for two boats,under roof--it had picnic table on it--benches across the front and railings in the front for fishing--under roof-had a fish cleaning table---and the cove was fishing grounds central----the yard had a lattice work like tunnel that went in a L shape around a lot of the yard--and it had lillies of the valley growing all over the outside of it and every so often there was a benches area and little gazeebo for relaxing with your sweetheart------I just thought about fishin in those days--
There was a 6 foot tall privacy hedge across the entire front of the yard---and just to the side of the house was the most beautiful Scotch Pine tree you have ever seen--it was at least 85 feet tall--with giant pine cones and with thick needles that tree had you could sit under it in a rain storm and stay pretty dry.
My life was about to get a whole lot more interesting-----more later--The Codge
Part way through 2nd grade at Walter Reed Elementary in Arlington Va. in 1952--dad got a new job in Edgewater Maryland--and we moved from the red brick apts. called the Waldorf--and it was the most memorable move in my young life--I was moving to paradise!!!
First we went there to hunt for a house---and after I saw the place--I didn't care what we lived in--it was on the water--almost every house had a dock or a boathouse--Mom and dad narrowed it down to two houses--the first place was on the far side of the cove--2 story with knotty pine paneling throughout--fire places a basement--large guest room upstairs--with 10 beds for company----cots but--looked like a dorm---they said ya get a lot of company here.
There was a long boatdock and at the end of it was a cabin cruiser that came with the house----oh brother!!!PLEASE PLEASE-PLEASE---the parents liked it but felt it was a little steep--for them--and then we looked at the other house---------and behind curtain number two--our house in Paradise---
Let me describe this house--it was a single level house sitting on 2 1/2 acres--with huge trees--it was large--with hardwood floors throughout--and a massive porch across the front--and a basement--the innner walls close to the porch came down to allow seabreeze into bedroooms--the cove was across the st. and down the bottom of a dirt road--and there at the bottom was our own boat dock//let me rephrase that--our own Boathouse--it had stalls for two boats,under roof--it had picnic table on it--benches across the front and railings in the front for fishing--under roof-had a fish cleaning table---and the cove was fishing grounds central----the yard had a lattice work like tunnel that went in a L shape around a lot of the yard--and it had lillies of the valley growing all over the outside of it and every so often there was a benches area and little gazeebo for relaxing with your sweetheart------I just thought about fishin in those days--
There was a 6 foot tall privacy hedge across the entire front of the yard---and just to the side of the house was the most beautiful Scotch Pine tree you have ever seen--it was at least 85 feet tall--with giant pine cones and with thick needles that tree had you could sit under it in a rain storm and stay pretty dry.
My life was about to get a whole lot more interesting-----more later--The Codge
Night Fishing--a world of it's own
Night Fishing--part #2
The colorful lights from shore and the star studded sky helped create an artistic master piece upon the black velvet canvas and the ripples born from a slight night wind accent the surface beauty,giving it a shimmering appearance.The trees with brached arms outstretched,stand as staunch sentires,guarding the lake.There is a brilliantly lit cathedral spire casting its likeness upon the waters face,and the lights of aircraft skim the surface unimpeded,flashing across the teflon plain on wings of silence and then disappear into the night.
The sound of wind on wings spirited over head as a bird flashed by on his way to full-fill an agenda known only to him.There are bright flood lights at docks ends that pierce the shadows and attract a storm of insects who fall easy prey to the birds and bats above and the hungry fish below.
The attack upon the bait we cast may only be a tap,but it shudders through graphite,through our hands and to the brain,signaling a STRIKE;lower the rods tip,take up the slack and prepare to set the hook,but into what?,a fat and sassy Bass,or some powerful creature you have just awakened from a million year slumber,such are some of the possibilities in the world of dark imagination and a reality found in the world of night fishing.
When you catch fish at night you may not view your quarry right away,but you can hear him, the blast of water thrown skyward,the surface commotion and feel his violent gyrations as he tries to shake your hook.
These bass may stay deep for a while or blast from the water like a rocket,their huge cavernous mouth looks as big as a wash tub as they clear the water,your heart pounds--his size and your embellishment make him a 20 pounder before he comes to net and light.
Night fishing offers adventure and memories so remember---there's an old moss backed monster waiting along some darkened shore or lying beside a cayon wall or benneath the brush through a small pot hole, tap tap, it's a strike,rod tip down and prepare to set the hook when the sun goes down and the fish and imagination turn on. The end-Eric
The colorful lights from shore and the star studded sky helped create an artistic master piece upon the black velvet canvas and the ripples born from a slight night wind accent the surface beauty,giving it a shimmering appearance.The trees with brached arms outstretched,stand as staunch sentires,guarding the lake.There is a brilliantly lit cathedral spire casting its likeness upon the waters face,and the lights of aircraft skim the surface unimpeded,flashing across the teflon plain on wings of silence and then disappear into the night.
The sound of wind on wings spirited over head as a bird flashed by on his way to full-fill an agenda known only to him.There are bright flood lights at docks ends that pierce the shadows and attract a storm of insects who fall easy prey to the birds and bats above and the hungry fish below.
The attack upon the bait we cast may only be a tap,but it shudders through graphite,through our hands and to the brain,signaling a STRIKE;lower the rods tip,take up the slack and prepare to set the hook,but into what?,a fat and sassy Bass,or some powerful creature you have just awakened from a million year slumber,such are some of the possibilities in the world of dark imagination and a reality found in the world of night fishing.
When you catch fish at night you may not view your quarry right away,but you can hear him, the blast of water thrown skyward,the surface commotion and feel his violent gyrations as he tries to shake your hook.
These bass may stay deep for a while or blast from the water like a rocket,their huge cavernous mouth looks as big as a wash tub as they clear the water,your heart pounds--his size and your embellishment make him a 20 pounder before he comes to net and light.
Night fishing offers adventure and memories so remember---there's an old moss backed monster waiting along some darkened shore or lying beside a cayon wall or benneath the brush through a small pot hole, tap tap, it's a strike,rod tip down and prepare to set the hook when the sun goes down and the fish and imagination turn on. The end-Eric
Expressions
Potpurri
My dad, rest his soul--had various expressions--for instance "For Crying Out Loud"--now dad was born in 1923--another was he called strangers when addressing them---hey Chief--which is one I can't stand for some reason--another was hey Mack--not especially courteous but used by a lot of people.---another favorite of the masses--hey buddy.
He liked to say that things didn't amount to a hill of beans--tell that to the baked bean guy and his dog!!
Certain things strike my funny bone--for instance--your driving along and see a sign that reads " Draw Bridge"--have you ever seen someone with an easel and a chair sittin there drawing the darn thing?
Here's another---slow children--well help um out for cryin out loud--or give um some geritol to speed um up!!
Another biggie-----Stop A Head---I've never seen one yet--have yall?
Deer Crossing??? I've seen football players thanking the powers to be for their good fortune to make a touchdown but never have I seen a Deer crossing himself or herself or well you know----You Know!! night yall---Codger alias Eric
My dad, rest his soul--had various expressions--for instance "For Crying Out Loud"--now dad was born in 1923--another was he called strangers when addressing them---hey Chief--which is one I can't stand for some reason--another was hey Mack--not especially courteous but used by a lot of people.---another favorite of the masses--hey buddy.
He liked to say that things didn't amount to a hill of beans--tell that to the baked bean guy and his dog!!
Certain things strike my funny bone--for instance--your driving along and see a sign that reads " Draw Bridge"--have you ever seen someone with an easel and a chair sittin there drawing the darn thing?
Here's another---slow children--well help um out for cryin out loud--or give um some geritol to speed um up!!
Another biggie-----Stop A Head---I've never seen one yet--have yall?
Deer Crossing??? I've seen football players thanking the powers to be for their good fortune to make a touchdown but never have I seen a Deer crossing himself or herself or well you know----You Know!! night yall---Codger alias Eric
Load Specialist--who are they?
Did You ever wonder?
I think about off the wall things--like who are the incredibly skilled people that load the big trucks--I don't mean front to back with square boxes--I mean those huge heavy weird loads on flat bed trailers--where it seems a computer must come into play so that balance and placement are cruical--one shift and people could be killed--and to the people that pack the items-so that they arrive unscathed.It seems there must be a special science involved with just the transport of the super heavy cumbersome highly expensive items--If some one would enlighten us with info on that subject --first my hats off to folks who do it--and do it well----Eric
I think about off the wall things--like who are the incredibly skilled people that load the big trucks--I don't mean front to back with square boxes--I mean those huge heavy weird loads on flat bed trailers--where it seems a computer must come into play so that balance and placement are cruical--one shift and people could be killed--and to the people that pack the items-so that they arrive unscathed.It seems there must be a special science involved with just the transport of the super heavy cumbersome highly expensive items--If some one would enlighten us with info on that subject --first my hats off to folks who do it--and do it well----Eric
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
He viewed me from his 1 dark eye as I lay on the bed
Monster on the Wall
Monster on the Wall
By day he was eight feet of motionless stone cold beauty mounted on the wall behind the bed, a magnificent creature frozen in arching leap,having died in a fierce battle fought years before.
To a young boy he came alive at night,rising from a sea of twisted branches and mysterious shapes that danced across the walls in the moonlight.There was an ominous look to his one dark eye and his
cavernous mouth was open wide to consume his prey.----
Monster on the Wall----part 2
I was 4 years old in 49 when I first saw the Monster behind the bed. I was frightened fascinated and tired when they layed me down to sleep,the Monster in quiet patience poised as darkness engulfed the room. I lay below him on the bed.I eased myself below the covers to avoid his icy stare!
When the daylight came I scrambled to the doorway and looked back on his awesome form,even in death he looked alive and hadn't I seen him stir and play with the shadows of the night?
That morning I learned the Monster was a sailfish,caught by my Grandad in a place called Florida.My Grandad described to me the fierce fight the creature had waged,his powerful leaps from the ocean,and how he appeared to dance across the oceans surface on his tail in a frantic attempt to break free.Grandad was proud of his catch and said someday I might catch one.
In the years that followed my dad taught me how to fish and I became as passionhate about the sport as hewas. We fished the rivers lakes and ponds around Va.,and each trip was an adventure.I caught Blue Gill and small Bass and by ther time I was 5, a 3 lb. bass had succumbed to my expertise.
When I was 8 years old we moved from Arlington Va. to South River Park, in Edgewater Maryland.Our house was on Wharehouse cove just off the South River and the opening to the mighty Chesapeake Bay.This incomparable home of my youth was a veritable paradise for a growing boy, a land of adventure,water and a wide variety of fish to challenge an egar angler.
I spent my days catching delicious blue clawed crabs by the bushel,hauling in eels,golden croaker,spot,perch and fought the powerful bluefish in the bay.
Dad surprised me one day and said I could take the rowboat out on my own-to fish the cove. There was such a huge variety of fish to catch-I honestly cannot remember even one boring day at that beautiful place by the water.
We spent 5 wonderful years in Edgewater and just after my 13th birthday dad announce we would be moving out of state--I was crushed untill I found out we were moving to Florida--Orlando Florida, thousands of lakes and the Atlantic Ocean and Gulf of Mexico-some of the best fishing in the country, alligators palm trees and the memory of my youth---Sailfish-------
Monster on the Wall part #3
We moved to Orlando in the summer of 58 and by the fall had fished many of the pristine lakes near our home,catching the largest bass of our lives.
Our first Christmas in Florida was spent at my Grandparents home in Delray Beach on Floridas southeast coast--a 180 mile journey south from Orlando-well worth the wait it was-- sugar sand beaches-pastel colors--art deco designs--coconut trees flowers of every description--and water as blue as it gets--jeeze what a place--just the weather and appearance put you in a good mood--the mornings were fresh--just cool enough to invigorate-then warmed up nicely around 11.
It was during this memorable trip that I first laid eyes on Boynton Inlet---a channel to and from the sea,protected on north and south by jetties of rock and concrete--this opening to the Atlantic was not a docile one but a churning cauldron of huge waves and flying spray.
The inner portion of the inlet,behind the protection of the beach was amove with the incoming tide.The sun easily penetrated the rich green water and the colorful forms of countless fish could be seen moving in from the open water.
South of the inlet was the harbor,home to the sport fishing fleet, a nest of powerful sleek wave warriors made of wood and glass. Twice daily their engines would roar to life,and they would leave their safe haven and venture to the blue water,where excited fishermen would try their luck and test their skill against some of the oceans swiftest and strongest game fish,King Mackeral,Wahoo,Bonito,Amberjack,and the most prized quarry of them all,the acrobatic powerful Atlantic Sailfish. ----
Monster on the Wall part # 4
The docks that day were crowded with eager fishermen preparing to leave on their offshore charters. The boat captains and their mates worked feverishly loading supplies of ice and bait as their departure time rapidly approached. Relatives and onlookers wished them luck and at one o'clock the once placid harbor was churning as water boiled from the sterns of those awesome craft.The strong lines that tethered the sleek beast were cast aside and in a procession of power and grace the boats moved past cheering waving crowds on their parade to the sea.It was an impressive sight as power and skill met the watery turmoil at the mouth of the jetties.The fleet easily broke the bond and plied forward toward the fish rich waters of the gulf stream.
I could only imagine what those lucky fishermen might experience and hope that someday I might have the same opportunity. I had now seen the waters where the Monsters roamed, the boats that hunted them and was at least one step closer to the dream of catching my own.--more tomorrow----
Monster on the Wall part #5 Back to Full Blog
Monster on the Wall--part #5
My chance came much sooner than I could have hoped for, a year had passed and we were again preparing to visit Delray for the Christmas hollidays but this time dad had a big surprise.MY Uncle Robert and his new wife Gail were chartering a sport fishing boat out of Boynton Inlet and dad and I were their invited guest.I could hardly contain my enthusiasm--and the trip south seemed to take forever.
It had been 10 years since I had first seen Grandads Monster on the Wall and with each passing mile I was closer to a chance that lady luck might shine on me-and make my childhood dream a reality.
We arrived in Delray late at night,stayed up for a while visiting with my grandparents and talked about the next days adventure.
I really had a hard time falling asleep because I was so keyed up.I was awake, envisioning a huge sailfish rocketing into the sky. I was holding tight to the rod as the huge billfish crashed back into the sea,the whine of the drag blended with the sounding alarm clock and I heard a voice saying Ricky wake up,it's time to start getting ready.
The day I had waited for-was at hand,this was certainly no ordinary fishing trip,it was the gulfstream where the big fish roamed--and I would have my chance--we made final preparations and it was time to go.
Dad and I rode with Robert and Gail,the rest of the family would follow to see us off. Robert told us that the boat he chartered was the "My Sweetheart",captained by Homer Adams,one of the most experienced Skippers in the fleet and he often found fish when conditions were not favorable.
We turned onto A1A heading North toward the inlet,the Atlantic waters were blue and docile,only a few puffy white clouds floated high in the sky.We arrived at the inlet,the parking lot was abuzz with activity and filling up fast. We made our way onto the dock past a number of boats and suddenly there she was,The My Sweetheart,long and graceful and pure white--she sparkled in the mid-day sun.
Captain Adams spotted Robert and said "welcome folks,it's a great day for fishing",I could not have agreed more.
The mate then helped us on board,we stowed our gear,then watched the mate prepare the tackle and the special ballyhoo baits we would be using.The Captain invited me to join him up on the flying bridge for the trip out to the fishing grounds.The elevated vantage point was great. I waved to the family as the Captain fired up the engines.The mate walked about the boat walking the gunnels with sure footed ease,casting off the lines.
The boats propellers agitated the water a frothy white and we began to move,the Captain skillfully manuevering the boat from its snug berth.The engines low gutteral throb became a more audible roar as we made the turn into the current and green water of the inlet.We all waved again at family and the huge throng of people lining the seawall,the blue waters of the Atlantic lay just ahead. WE reached the rough water and Captain Adams,sensing my concern just smiled and said"no problem"-he then pushed the throttles forward and the My Sweetheart powered through the cross currents with ease and we were on our way.-------
Monster on the Wall part # 6
The ride to the fishing grounds only took a few minutes.I quickly climbed down the ladder taking my place in the forward swivel chair facing aft on the starboard side. Aunt Gail took the chair opposite me.
Our lines were attached to out riggers, which ran our baits far to the sides. Dad and Roberts lines were trolled directly behind the boat.
I remember wondering how a fish could take a bait skipping so fast across the water. I would soon find out that it was no problem and would in just a few moments be introduced in grand style to blue water fishing.
We watched the ballyhoo skim across the surface,we were loaded up and it was time to get it on and we didn't have long to wait!
A LOUD SNAP--Cracked the air as Gails line released from the outrigger,the slack line disappeared,the sharp hook SLAMMED HOME,her rod bowed with the strain,she SCREAMED the drag WHINED--and the FIGHT was on!!!
The mate shouted instructions as she fought the unseen creature. I didn't get to watch her battle as a hungry Kingfish attacked my bait so fierce'ly that his momentum carried him 6 feet in the air,my line released from the outrigger and disappeared along with the fish beneath the waves.I now had my hands full with the strongest fish I had ever fought.We landed our fish,both Kings in the 15 pound range.
The afternoon had just begun and I had already caught the biggest fish of my life.
Everyone else soon joined in on the action which continued hot and heavy for the next 2 1/2 hours. The four of us boated 28 Kingfish,one Bonito and a pilot fish. I was exhilarated and exhausted and had clearly had the finest fishing day of my life,catching 9 of the Kings,the largest being about 20 pounds.
The excitement for the day was far from over. Robert had been trolling a live Blue runner baitfish in deep water and suddenly had a massive strike,it was a heavy fish.He fought the powerful denizen till he finally turned him toward the boat. Captain Adams shouted from the bridge that it was a big Wahoo maybe a 60 pounder.Our cheers were short lived however as a huge Porpoise took the Wahoo in his mouth and headed North at a blistering speed,the line melted from Roberts reel and then broke,its separation split the air like a rifle shot.
Whew--what a day--and then Captain Adams spoke the words that were music to my ears--" hey folks lets spend the last hour in deeper water and see if we can't raise a sailfish to a bait!
The Monster on the Wall part #7
We appreciated the run to deeper water,it only took a few minutes but just to relax was a big help--the wind sun and fighting fish had taken a bit of a toll on us.
We arrived at the spot and the Captain said that on the previous day they had raised a large sail but he didn't take the bait.We now had about thirty minutes to troll before we would head back to the docks.
The lines were put out and I was just sort of day dreaming when someone shouted, SAILFISH!!,I turned to locate him,and there he was,slashing through the water towards Roberts bait.Roberts rod plunged forward,he hollered but suddenly his line went slack.This awesome fish would not be deterred as he cut through the water towards my dads bait,again he missed!
The mate jerked the rod from my hand,quickly released the line from the outrigger,reeled in the slack positioning the bait directly in front of the trailing Blue Monster.The fish lunged as the mate set the hook solidly and all hell broke loose.He handed me the rod and I was jerked forward by a force and power like I had never felt--the reel screamed,like some demon from the underworld had been loosed.
The mate hollered --FISH ON--and my rod was bent double and it was all I could do to hang on--the mate said let him run--like I had anything to do with that--he tore 400 yards of line from my reel.
My huge fish blasted from the ocean high into the air in an incredible display and even from such a distance he looked huge and then my quarry made 4 more leaps into the afternoon Florida sky-dancing across the ocean--I really thought he would break free or he would cut the line with his tail.
My dream fish had taken 1200 feet of line and I had not yet retrieved any.He finally went deep and I began the hard work of retrieving line a few feet at a time. I would pull back on the rod with all my might and then push it forward winding in slack as quickly as I could-a chore repeated over and over-till my muscles were nearly shot.Everyone was shouting encouragement-and truthfully it was the hardest challenge I had ever had-to that point in my life--this fish was so strong.I was intent on the job at hand and oblivious to the transformation going on around me.The smaller swivel chairs had been removed and a large fighting chair was put into place in the center of the deck and I was moved to it. It was more comfortable had a big harness which was very comfortable and a large foot rest which really helped.MY hard work began to pay off as I reclaimed line lost in the start of battle. What had been a vivid childhood memory was a reality at the end of my line, 20 minutes had passed and the beautiful sail was nearing the boat--I found myself relaxing thinking I had survived the challenge--but my adversary had other ideas.He viewed the boat with his dark round eyes and began to create his own senario.The mate yelled "He's not ready yet" and then the huge predator charged away from the boat like a runaway freight train,tearing 300 yards of hard earned line from my reel and again capped this marvelous run with with skyward leaps showing amazing power.---
Monster on the Wall part#8
He not only took 900 feet of line but also a bit of my heart. My arms felt like rubber and I was nearly spent.They offered me help but again I refused--he would win or I would-there would be no other way.
The Captain and mate were discussing how unusual this fish was--that most sails were caught in 15/20 minutes--as I began the arduous now painful task of retrieving so much line.I had to fight for every foot as this beautiful fish cut me no slack-his head was turned away from the boat as he fought with all he had.
Gail rubbed my shoulders,they poured cool water on me and the reel and the mate then tightened the drag to put increased pressure on the fish.Once again I slowly pulled in this ultimate challenge to my resolve. I was sick from the sun and drained physically but doggedly kept pumping and retrieving line--until my beautiful Blue Monster from the sea neared the boat once more--the struggle was an hour long and for the first time his long lithe body could be seen below the surface---He was an 8 footer just like Grandads-the mate stood by the transome with gloved hands waiting to grasp the leader when this marvelous Blue Dynamo did what would seem impossible--he lurched away and was at full speed in a second or two--the reel played its mournful tune and the mono disappeared along with the fish--only to reappear 300 yard away--blasting from the ocean like a rocket bound for heaven-in one last almost suicidal attempt at freedom.
This beautiful fish had more heart than seemed possible--and with that last frantic attempt--his head turned toward the boat for the first time--and the mate screamed at me to reel fast and take up the slack or I would lose him.
I couldn't feel my arms anymore--could barley turn the handal--and at last the mate grabbed the leader and pulled him to the boat--and said my God he is foul hooked in the top of his head--making his capture far more difficult--1 hour 28 minutes---They ask if I wanted to let him go--I kept my mouth shut-all I could think of was showing grandad,
there would be no mercy from me this day-but there should have been.
This all transpired in Dec-1959---in 1992 I finally wrote a story about it--this one.
P.S
I sent my Aunt in Delray a copy of the story and she contacted Captain Adams home and found out that he was dying of cancer--they went to the hospital and read him the story and he cried from happiness to have been rememberd for what was his livlihood-I am so glad to have brought some joy to him.
I also thank my father for teaching me to enjoy the outdoors,my Uncle for inviting us,may he rest in peace and to all that release their prey to fight another day-- The Codge
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Monster on the Wall
By day he was eight feet of motionless stone cold beauty mounted on the wall behind the bed, a magnificent creature frozen in arching leap,having died in a fierce battle fought years before.
To a young boy he came alive at night,rising from a sea of twisted branches and mysterious shapes that danced across the walls in the moonlight.There was an ominous look to his one dark eye and his
cavernous mouth was open wide to consume his prey.----
Monster on the Wall----part 2
I was 4 years old in 49 when I first saw the Monster behind the bed. I was frightened fascinated and tired when they layed me down to sleep,the Monster in quiet patience poised as darkness engulfed the room. I lay below him on the bed.I eased myself below the covers to avoid his icy stare!
When the daylight came I scrambled to the doorway and looked back on his awesome form,even in death he looked alive and hadn't I seen him stir and play with the shadows of the night?
That morning I learned the Monster was a sailfish,caught by my Grandad in a place called Florida.My Grandad described to me the fierce fight the creature had waged,his powerful leaps from the ocean,and how he appeared to dance across the oceans surface on his tail in a frantic attempt to break free.Grandad was proud of his catch and said someday I might catch one.
In the years that followed my dad taught me how to fish and I became as passionhate about the sport as hewas. We fished the rivers lakes and ponds around Va.,and each trip was an adventure.I caught Blue Gill and small Bass and by ther time I was 5, a 3 lb. bass had succumbed to my expertise.
When I was 8 years old we moved from Arlington Va. to South River Park, in Edgewater Maryland.Our house was on Wharehouse cove just off the South River and the opening to the mighty Chesapeake Bay.This incomparable home of my youth was a veritable paradise for a growing boy, a land of adventure,water and a wide variety of fish to challenge an egar angler.
I spent my days catching delicious blue clawed crabs by the bushel,hauling in eels,golden croaker,spot,perch and fought the powerful bluefish in the bay.
Dad surprised me one day and said I could take the rowboat out on my own-to fish the cove. There was such a huge variety of fish to catch-I honestly cannot remember even one boring day at that beautiful place by the water.
We spent 5 wonderful years in Edgewater and just after my 13th birthday dad announce we would be moving out of state--I was crushed untill I found out we were moving to Florida--Orlando Florida, thousands of lakes and the Atlantic Ocean and Gulf of Mexico-some of the best fishing in the country, alligators palm trees and the memory of my youth---Sailfish-------
Monster on the Wall part #3
We moved to Orlando in the summer of 58 and by the fall had fished many of the pristine lakes near our home,catching the largest bass of our lives.
Our first Christmas in Florida was spent at my Grandparents home in Delray Beach on Floridas southeast coast--a 180 mile journey south from Orlando-well worth the wait it was-- sugar sand beaches-pastel colors--art deco designs--coconut trees flowers of every description--and water as blue as it gets--jeeze what a place--just the weather and appearance put you in a good mood--the mornings were fresh--just cool enough to invigorate-then warmed up nicely around 11.
It was during this memorable trip that I first laid eyes on Boynton Inlet---a channel to and from the sea,protected on north and south by jetties of rock and concrete--this opening to the Atlantic was not a docile one but a churning cauldron of huge waves and flying spray.
The inner portion of the inlet,behind the protection of the beach was amove with the incoming tide.The sun easily penetrated the rich green water and the colorful forms of countless fish could be seen moving in from the open water.
South of the inlet was the harbor,home to the sport fishing fleet, a nest of powerful sleek wave warriors made of wood and glass. Twice daily their engines would roar to life,and they would leave their safe haven and venture to the blue water,where excited fishermen would try their luck and test their skill against some of the oceans swiftest and strongest game fish,King Mackeral,Wahoo,Bonito,Amberjack,and the most prized quarry of them all,the acrobatic powerful Atlantic Sailfish. ----
Monster on the Wall part # 4
The docks that day were crowded with eager fishermen preparing to leave on their offshore charters. The boat captains and their mates worked feverishly loading supplies of ice and bait as their departure time rapidly approached. Relatives and onlookers wished them luck and at one o'clock the once placid harbor was churning as water boiled from the sterns of those awesome craft.The strong lines that tethered the sleek beast were cast aside and in a procession of power and grace the boats moved past cheering waving crowds on their parade to the sea.It was an impressive sight as power and skill met the watery turmoil at the mouth of the jetties.The fleet easily broke the bond and plied forward toward the fish rich waters of the gulf stream.
I could only imagine what those lucky fishermen might experience and hope that someday I might have the same opportunity. I had now seen the waters where the Monsters roamed, the boats that hunted them and was at least one step closer to the dream of catching my own.--more tomorrow----
Monster on the Wall part #5 Back to Full Blog
Monster on the Wall--part #5
My chance came much sooner than I could have hoped for, a year had passed and we were again preparing to visit Delray for the Christmas hollidays but this time dad had a big surprise.MY Uncle Robert and his new wife Gail were chartering a sport fishing boat out of Boynton Inlet and dad and I were their invited guest.I could hardly contain my enthusiasm--and the trip south seemed to take forever.
It had been 10 years since I had first seen Grandads Monster on the Wall and with each passing mile I was closer to a chance that lady luck might shine on me-and make my childhood dream a reality.
We arrived in Delray late at night,stayed up for a while visiting with my grandparents and talked about the next days adventure.
I really had a hard time falling asleep because I was so keyed up.I was awake, envisioning a huge sailfish rocketing into the sky. I was holding tight to the rod as the huge billfish crashed back into the sea,the whine of the drag blended with the sounding alarm clock and I heard a voice saying Ricky wake up,it's time to start getting ready.
The day I had waited for-was at hand,this was certainly no ordinary fishing trip,it was the gulfstream where the big fish roamed--and I would have my chance--we made final preparations and it was time to go.
Dad and I rode with Robert and Gail,the rest of the family would follow to see us off. Robert told us that the boat he chartered was the "My Sweetheart",captained by Homer Adams,one of the most experienced Skippers in the fleet and he often found fish when conditions were not favorable.
We turned onto A1A heading North toward the inlet,the Atlantic waters were blue and docile,only a few puffy white clouds floated high in the sky.We arrived at the inlet,the parking lot was abuzz with activity and filling up fast. We made our way onto the dock past a number of boats and suddenly there she was,The My Sweetheart,long and graceful and pure white--she sparkled in the mid-day sun.
Captain Adams spotted Robert and said "welcome folks,it's a great day for fishing",I could not have agreed more.
The mate then helped us on board,we stowed our gear,then watched the mate prepare the tackle and the special ballyhoo baits we would be using.The Captain invited me to join him up on the flying bridge for the trip out to the fishing grounds.The elevated vantage point was great. I waved to the family as the Captain fired up the engines.The mate walked about the boat walking the gunnels with sure footed ease,casting off the lines.
The boats propellers agitated the water a frothy white and we began to move,the Captain skillfully manuevering the boat from its snug berth.The engines low gutteral throb became a more audible roar as we made the turn into the current and green water of the inlet.We all waved again at family and the huge throng of people lining the seawall,the blue waters of the Atlantic lay just ahead. WE reached the rough water and Captain Adams,sensing my concern just smiled and said"no problem"-he then pushed the throttles forward and the My Sweetheart powered through the cross currents with ease and we were on our way.-------
Monster on the Wall part # 6
The ride to the fishing grounds only took a few minutes.I quickly climbed down the ladder taking my place in the forward swivel chair facing aft on the starboard side. Aunt Gail took the chair opposite me.
Our lines were attached to out riggers, which ran our baits far to the sides. Dad and Roberts lines were trolled directly behind the boat.
I remember wondering how a fish could take a bait skipping so fast across the water. I would soon find out that it was no problem and would in just a few moments be introduced in grand style to blue water fishing.
We watched the ballyhoo skim across the surface,we were loaded up and it was time to get it on and we didn't have long to wait!
A LOUD SNAP--Cracked the air as Gails line released from the outrigger,the slack line disappeared,the sharp hook SLAMMED HOME,her rod bowed with the strain,she SCREAMED the drag WHINED--and the FIGHT was on!!!
The mate shouted instructions as she fought the unseen creature. I didn't get to watch her battle as a hungry Kingfish attacked my bait so fierce'ly that his momentum carried him 6 feet in the air,my line released from the outrigger and disappeared along with the fish beneath the waves.I now had my hands full with the strongest fish I had ever fought.We landed our fish,both Kings in the 15 pound range.
The afternoon had just begun and I had already caught the biggest fish of my life.
Everyone else soon joined in on the action which continued hot and heavy for the next 2 1/2 hours. The four of us boated 28 Kingfish,one Bonito and a pilot fish. I was exhilarated and exhausted and had clearly had the finest fishing day of my life,catching 9 of the Kings,the largest being about 20 pounds.
The excitement for the day was far from over. Robert had been trolling a live Blue runner baitfish in deep water and suddenly had a massive strike,it was a heavy fish.He fought the powerful denizen till he finally turned him toward the boat. Captain Adams shouted from the bridge that it was a big Wahoo maybe a 60 pounder.Our cheers were short lived however as a huge Porpoise took the Wahoo in his mouth and headed North at a blistering speed,the line melted from Roberts reel and then broke,its separation split the air like a rifle shot.
Whew--what a day--and then Captain Adams spoke the words that were music to my ears--" hey folks lets spend the last hour in deeper water and see if we can't raise a sailfish to a bait!
The Monster on the Wall part #7
We appreciated the run to deeper water,it only took a few minutes but just to relax was a big help--the wind sun and fighting fish had taken a bit of a toll on us.
We arrived at the spot and the Captain said that on the previous day they had raised a large sail but he didn't take the bait.We now had about thirty minutes to troll before we would head back to the docks.
The lines were put out and I was just sort of day dreaming when someone shouted, SAILFISH!!,I turned to locate him,and there he was,slashing through the water towards Roberts bait.Roberts rod plunged forward,he hollered but suddenly his line went slack.This awesome fish would not be deterred as he cut through the water towards my dads bait,again he missed!
The mate jerked the rod from my hand,quickly released the line from the outrigger,reeled in the slack positioning the bait directly in front of the trailing Blue Monster.The fish lunged as the mate set the hook solidly and all hell broke loose.He handed me the rod and I was jerked forward by a force and power like I had never felt--the reel screamed,like some demon from the underworld had been loosed.
The mate hollered --FISH ON--and my rod was bent double and it was all I could do to hang on--the mate said let him run--like I had anything to do with that--he tore 400 yards of line from my reel.
My huge fish blasted from the ocean high into the air in an incredible display and even from such a distance he looked huge and then my quarry made 4 more leaps into the afternoon Florida sky-dancing across the ocean--I really thought he would break free or he would cut the line with his tail.
My dream fish had taken 1200 feet of line and I had not yet retrieved any.He finally went deep and I began the hard work of retrieving line a few feet at a time. I would pull back on the rod with all my might and then push it forward winding in slack as quickly as I could-a chore repeated over and over-till my muscles were nearly shot.Everyone was shouting encouragement-and truthfully it was the hardest challenge I had ever had-to that point in my life--this fish was so strong.I was intent on the job at hand and oblivious to the transformation going on around me.The smaller swivel chairs had been removed and a large fighting chair was put into place in the center of the deck and I was moved to it. It was more comfortable had a big harness which was very comfortable and a large foot rest which really helped.MY hard work began to pay off as I reclaimed line lost in the start of battle. What had been a vivid childhood memory was a reality at the end of my line, 20 minutes had passed and the beautiful sail was nearing the boat--I found myself relaxing thinking I had survived the challenge--but my adversary had other ideas.He viewed the boat with his dark round eyes and began to create his own senario.The mate yelled "He's not ready yet" and then the huge predator charged away from the boat like a runaway freight train,tearing 300 yards of hard earned line from my reel and again capped this marvelous run with with skyward leaps showing amazing power.---
Monster on the Wall part#8
He not only took 900 feet of line but also a bit of my heart. My arms felt like rubber and I was nearly spent.They offered me help but again I refused--he would win or I would-there would be no other way.
The Captain and mate were discussing how unusual this fish was--that most sails were caught in 15/20 minutes--as I began the arduous now painful task of retrieving so much line.I had to fight for every foot as this beautiful fish cut me no slack-his head was turned away from the boat as he fought with all he had.
Gail rubbed my shoulders,they poured cool water on me and the reel and the mate then tightened the drag to put increased pressure on the fish.Once again I slowly pulled in this ultimate challenge to my resolve. I was sick from the sun and drained physically but doggedly kept pumping and retrieving line--until my beautiful Blue Monster from the sea neared the boat once more--the struggle was an hour long and for the first time his long lithe body could be seen below the surface---He was an 8 footer just like Grandads-the mate stood by the transome with gloved hands waiting to grasp the leader when this marvelous Blue Dynamo did what would seem impossible--he lurched away and was at full speed in a second or two--the reel played its mournful tune and the mono disappeared along with the fish--only to reappear 300 yard away--blasting from the ocean like a rocket bound for heaven-in one last almost suicidal attempt at freedom.
This beautiful fish had more heart than seemed possible--and with that last frantic attempt--his head turned toward the boat for the first time--and the mate screamed at me to reel fast and take up the slack or I would lose him.
I couldn't feel my arms anymore--could barley turn the handal--and at last the mate grabbed the leader and pulled him to the boat--and said my God he is foul hooked in the top of his head--making his capture far more difficult--1 hour 28 minutes---They ask if I wanted to let him go--I kept my mouth shut-all I could think of was showing grandad,
there would be no mercy from me this day-but there should have been.
This all transpired in Dec-1959---in 1992 I finally wrote a story about it--this one.
P.S
I sent my Aunt in Delray a copy of the story and she contacted Captain Adams home and found out that he was dying of cancer--they went to the hospital and read him the story and he cried from happiness to have been rememberd for what was his livlihood-I am so glad to have brought some joy to him.
I also thank my father for teaching me to enjoy the outdoors,my Uncle for inviting us,may he rest in peace and to all that release their prey to fight another day-- The Codge
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Night Fishing the Winter Park Florida Chain of Lakes
Night Fishing
I went bass fishing with my dad often at night and wanted to write a short story to describe what the experience is like--the following is that offering.
NIGHT FISHING
I backed the sleek bass boat down the narrow ramp into the ebony stillness of the lake,and the sudden displacement of water by fiberglass and steel,sent a surge of waves rolling out into the darkness.These waves would meet their deminished demise lapping up against the distant shore.
The powerful Evinrude outboard roared to life,and this sudden violation of what had been a tranquill moment sent a flock of ducks into a panic and the flutter of their wings and race to gain flight was clearly heard from a darkened region of the lake. There was a whisp of white smoke from the motors exhaust--which hung suspended for a moment in time and then was whisked away by the soft night breeze.The Sling Shot Bass boat slid easily from the trailer and rested comfortably upon the black satin plain,the mysterious sable depths below and the star and moonlit heavens above.
We knew the lake well by day but with the setting sun and ensuing darkness,came an air of mystery that stirred the imagination.
The canal to our left was shrouded in a veil of fog--this scenic pathway to another lake now a twisting highway into a blackened void.
The familiar landmarks and terrain along shore now were reduced to shadows peppered by points of light.The light bulb which lit the ramp area was nearly obscured by a swarm of insects, attracted by its luminous beckoning and warm radiance.
The pounding beat of rock and roll could be heard from a lively party somewhere across the lake, an oldie that stirred memories of younger days.
We moved away from the ramp area to the strains of " The Little Old Lady from Passadena",the rythmic slap of water on the bow kept time,and a moonlit pathway lay before us.The music whailed,go granny,go granny go,the motor whined,the bow rose in the air,hesitated a moment then settled down,rose briefly one more time as the motor gorged itself on fuel and in a burst of power the boat hugged the mirrored surface and we were screaming across the lake at 50 m.p.h the sounds of rock and roll obliviated by a cresendo of noise from the maxed out motor and the sound of water as it shed itself from fiberglass.The sudden rush of wind caused tears to well in the eyes,the deafening roar of the motor carried on the wind and through the water,turtles dove for the bottom,bait fish scattered in every direction and fish leaped from the water in a race to escape the speedy predator that had entered their realm, a predator bearing gifts,tantalizing lures to entice the wary and also a predator pocessing keen electronic eyesight,capable of penetrating the ink hued aquatic regions,revealing the mountains,caynons and plains and the fish that lived there.
We crossed the lake to within a few hundred feet of the shore,turned off the motor and began to stalk our prey,the more quiet hum of the trolling motor propelled us through grass beds as we cast our fishing lines toward shore presenting artifical worms toward appealing spots just visible in the moonlight.
The driving beat of rock and roll again pierced the evening solitude,War,what is it good for?,Absolutely Nothing!,say it again,War,and below the plain where light diminishes and mans unaided eyes cannot see,the creatures in the watery hidden shadows fed on the weak,the carnage imaged only by the limits of our own imaginations.Without clear vision you focus on sounds , a crash in the grass near shore, a sudden swirl of water, as larger faster life consumes smaller slower morsels--the survival of the fittest a never ending drama--above and below the the waves.-----more later
I went bass fishing with my dad often at night and wanted to write a short story to describe what the experience is like--the following is that offering.
NIGHT FISHING
I backed the sleek bass boat down the narrow ramp into the ebony stillness of the lake,and the sudden displacement of water by fiberglass and steel,sent a surge of waves rolling out into the darkness.These waves would meet their deminished demise lapping up against the distant shore.
The powerful Evinrude outboard roared to life,and this sudden violation of what had been a tranquill moment sent a flock of ducks into a panic and the flutter of their wings and race to gain flight was clearly heard from a darkened region of the lake. There was a whisp of white smoke from the motors exhaust--which hung suspended for a moment in time and then was whisked away by the soft night breeze.The Sling Shot Bass boat slid easily from the trailer and rested comfortably upon the black satin plain,the mysterious sable depths below and the star and moonlit heavens above.
We knew the lake well by day but with the setting sun and ensuing darkness,came an air of mystery that stirred the imagination.
The canal to our left was shrouded in a veil of fog--this scenic pathway to another lake now a twisting highway into a blackened void.
The familiar landmarks and terrain along shore now were reduced to shadows peppered by points of light.The light bulb which lit the ramp area was nearly obscured by a swarm of insects, attracted by its luminous beckoning and warm radiance.
The pounding beat of rock and roll could be heard from a lively party somewhere across the lake, an oldie that stirred memories of younger days.
We moved away from the ramp area to the strains of " The Little Old Lady from Passadena",the rythmic slap of water on the bow kept time,and a moonlit pathway lay before us.The music whailed,go granny,go granny go,the motor whined,the bow rose in the air,hesitated a moment then settled down,rose briefly one more time as the motor gorged itself on fuel and in a burst of power the boat hugged the mirrored surface and we were screaming across the lake at 50 m.p.h the sounds of rock and roll obliviated by a cresendo of noise from the maxed out motor and the sound of water as it shed itself from fiberglass.The sudden rush of wind caused tears to well in the eyes,the deafening roar of the motor carried on the wind and through the water,turtles dove for the bottom,bait fish scattered in every direction and fish leaped from the water in a race to escape the speedy predator that had entered their realm, a predator bearing gifts,tantalizing lures to entice the wary and also a predator pocessing keen electronic eyesight,capable of penetrating the ink hued aquatic regions,revealing the mountains,caynons and plains and the fish that lived there.
We crossed the lake to within a few hundred feet of the shore,turned off the motor and began to stalk our prey,the more quiet hum of the trolling motor propelled us through grass beds as we cast our fishing lines toward shore presenting artifical worms toward appealing spots just visible in the moonlight.
The driving beat of rock and roll again pierced the evening solitude,War,what is it good for?,Absolutely Nothing!,say it again,War,and below the plain where light diminishes and mans unaided eyes cannot see,the creatures in the watery hidden shadows fed on the weak,the carnage imaged only by the limits of our own imaginations.Without clear vision you focus on sounds , a crash in the grass near shore, a sudden swirl of water, as larger faster life consumes smaller slower morsels--the survival of the fittest a never ending drama--above and below the the waves.-----more later
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