Joined: 25 May 2009 Posts: 615 Location: somewhere on 130 miles of beach
Posted: Wed Mar 02, 2016 2:27 pm Post subject: PINS Feb 21 to March 1
"Don't look so sad, I know it's over
But life goes on and this old world will keep on turning
Let's just be glad, we had some time to spend together..."
--Ray Price, 1970
"Who's gonna fill their shoes?
Who's gonna stand that tall?"
--George Jones, 1985
"I feel my life has reached an early sign of autumn
In my heart the leaves are falling love is cold
And everything that once was warm and new is gone now
Leaving nothing but this hunger in my soul."
--Ray Price, 1971
"I almost felt you touching me just now
I wish I knew which way to turn and go
I feel so good and then, then I feel so bad
I wonder what I ought to do
If I could only fly, if I could only fly
I'd bid this place goodbye to come and be with you
But I can hardly stand and I got no where to run
Another sinking sun and one more lonely night
The wind keeps blowing, somewhere, everyday
Tell me things get better, somewhere, up the way
Just dismal thinking on a dismal day
And sad songs for us to bare..."
Merle Haggard, "If I Could Only Fly" album, 2000
Ralph Wade, 1942, freshly joined up in the Navy.
Ralph Wade, 1944, top left.
My grandpa, 1945
Grandpa after boot camp.
Grandpa's graduating class.
USS Walker, Grandpa's ship.
One confirmed sub sunk, one Kamikaze attack, and multiple planes taken down.
USS Walker
Sleeping on deck in harbor with the fleet.
Playing cards.
The late afternoon sun shone through the back window shades into the back room where Ralph had his office and bed and tv set up. The rest of the house was shut up just about. Living alone and all. And the longer I watched each ray of light, I could see the dust in the room just floating in the air, suspended. It was mighty hot outside and I'd just come in from a few days on Island and Ralph wanted to hear all about it. "Hey! You want some sweet tea!" "Sure Ralph", I responded, "You know it." Off he would ramble on to the kitchen. Back he would come, "Hey can you see? Read this da*n stack of bills for me so I can pay the things!" I guess those days are gone now. Yeah, I guess they ain't coming back, and there's no way around it now. The last couple of months haven't been too fun, with now both grandpas passed and gone, and now Ralph too. And funny thing is, even with all the time to prepare for the inevitability of things, I haven't found myself a day yet that I'm not missing Ralph and grandpa both. 11 years is all I got with Ralph, that's it. And it wasn't enough. You see, my daddy gave me some advice one time, that I do believe he picked up in Vietnam. Half of it anyway. "Son, potheads-they hang with potheads! Beer drinkers-they hang with other beer drinkers! And folks like you, well they gotta find someone more or less like them or else they're up and gone!" And I can still hear Ralph the day we met..."Well he*l, we're friends ain't we!? Come on by the house later on, you know where I live right!" And for every month after that, when I would be off the towboat, I would always stop by and eat pie and drink tea with Ralph, and talk fishing, the beach, people, and life.
And now it's all gone. All I have is memories and a feeling of loss, that every day returns anew. So I headed on down to the beach, all the new truck stuff done and the gear all ready to use.
And headed south pretty late in the evening.
And Yarborough darn near blown in.
Alone and hurting, I set up a camp late, and waited for daylight under a full moon and the stars overhead.
And I sat out in the middle of the beach away from camp, alone in the dark and just watching and thinking about things.
And morning came and so did the fog.
And as it shut in around me, I wouldn't run baits yet, and was almost relieved to disappear. That's all I wanted. No one around and no one but me and the rawness of my loss.
And I would fish my way south, and play with the bonnetheads for a while.
But the fog would lift later in the day, and having decided to fish only, I would leave the Naked Indians and all over the dune activities for another day and straight fish.
And marinate such a devilish beast for those that lurk in the deep.
In fact, I rigged quite a spread. Nothing wrong with that.
And for a moment, I felt ok, just staying busy and all.
"Dawn Patrol?" More like night patrol. Thanks wind and wave for all the wetsuits over the years!
And it felt darn good to put 'em out and put em long and short in a beautiful pattern, ready for the night.
It had been so long, while fixing the old truck, then selling it, and then replacing it with this one! But here it is again!
BAM!
And of course, a casted bait, like always.
Even the old Alan Tani upgraded Daiwas got put to use! This one is spooled with Jerry Brown solid core, 100lb. So far-so good. I can honestly say not one breakoff has occurred on this reel yet.
And the beach was mine, nobody around but Oz several miles away. And as the sun set, I hoped high for the both of us.
I had about a 25 minute reprieve after setting out the spread, and then the first rod was hit just as the moon came up over the water. This greedy chump nailed a jack head laid just over the bar for bigger fish, but nevertheless.
And there I was, breaking in the new rack.
And as that fight played out, the GRRRRR of one of the Avets dropped deep deep deep with another jack head hand rung out. The fish would pick the bait up, and slowly take it out to sea, then drop it. 10 minutes later, the same would reoccur. This bait happened to have NO float on it, which is rare for me, but something I was trying out. Just as I shot a photo of the first fish, the reel took off for China, and I tossed that craptip over the bar and ran to the rack to do war with what I hoped would be a big tiger just "slow rolling" me. Knowing the drop was around 1500 yards out, the cards were stacked against me.
After strapping up, the fish charged the beach, I reeled the slack at warp speed, and then he turned back offshore again. But what he didn't know, was this old boy just NEEDED to a war to fight this night. We caught up to each other just in time for him to feel me, proclaim "Oh He** no!!!" and pick up the pace to warp speed for the Florida Keys. The 50 was pretty shortly darn near spooled and I had to make the choice to lock down on him with all the Avet had. I slowly brought the lever drag all the way up, but then......the dreaded......"BINK." Yep-that's what I call it. "BINK" means that's it, kaput, no' mo'. It's over. It's happened before to me, and it just happened again. Once again 100lb Power Pro did the "BINK" maneuver, and caused me to immediately throw up and throw a log over the dune, followed by the "Woo-Saaaaaah" ear rub maneuver. GONE. We'll never know what broke me off because I didn't run a float on this one. And honestly-there's MANY times where my float is history and I'll search and search in the boat in vain, but it's gone, the fish having decided Corpus sucks and the city council is full of morons, time to move back to somewhere cool like Cuba.
Meanwhile, as I kept replaying this "BINK" BS over and over in my head.....one of the 900H's sounded off....and the ensuing 20 minute war of wills brought this dynamic duo onto the sand.
Greedy @#$#@@#$@ fiting over one single bonita that I brought from my frozen bait stash of deep freeze death and double hooked with 12/0 J's.
Ya'll two got some doggone eating disorders ya'll need to get straightened out. One at a time at the table doggonit.
Having decided that it was ON...I lit a campfire and sat down in the dirt just waiting on my last rod to sing.....a 17 pound southern marinated in fun-fun oil and brined throughout the afternoon sunshine and dropped about 1,600 yards out.
And the night got cold and the wetsuit colder, but I'd just lay closer to the flames and wait.
And think.
And wait. Ahh, the life of a shark fisherman. Discomfort and adventure and a wetsuit filled with cold....errr, no need to go there.
And around 1045, you guess it. That ray dumped out into the deep, with most of the belly of the line hauled back, and a super short topshot just TOOK OFF. That 50W dumped line from a blistering run that hit and happened so fast I about fell UP the rack ladder just trying to get to the rod. The run never slowed, and totally unlike the last lost fish, there was no warning, no pick ups and drops, just a blast off like Nasa had strapped an afterburner to a hammerheads back and slapped him goodbye.
The reel almost dumped, I locked down on whatever it was with about 50 lbs of drag, and yep....you guess it again. "BINK!!!" The line lay down and touched the water. And like always when you've got maybe 1800 yards of line out and it's broken off, you just hope the resistance is the fish charging the beach. But alas, the result was a part in the topshot about 20 feet up from the leader. And topshot damage in several places nearby. Sometimes these bigger fish are swimming with a mate or a partner or whatever, and when one is in distress, the other circles and here's the result....I wish I was wrong, but it's happened before, and it's gonna happen again until I get some coins together and jump up to the next line class and quit fooling with this 100lb garbage.....so once again, I went and found a big log and chunked it over the dune, then invented some new words.
Feeling pretty feisty, I went on ahead and dared to cook dinner now that all the rods were out of commission until morning.
Not bad doggonit.
And the next morning, with a gale warning forecast for later that day/evening, I headed to the house to wait it out.
And returned a day later once the blow had subsided and all possible waterspouts were a done deal.
And the island had reinvented itself like it does, and there was healing in it's waters.
And me and that old diesel manual 6 speed just rode on and on that day.
And I felt Ralph's presence in every wade pool and pinch.
And bait arrived.
And I swam on out to the next bar just because. And took a few shots.
And went home, and reloaded, and restocked, and returned.
I vote we remove the turtle, since a certain species is certainly NOT native to this little stretch of God's shoreline, and instead place the following man's image.
A true hero, his image should be preserved for future generations to know and experience.
And I observed the county's new rules and regulation signs on the old GLO land that they somehow pilfered from the park system at the last minute. Guess me hiking is out of the question back here now?
And after a quick stop at HQ, I was off.
Back!
And watching lines of pelicans.
South....
What a gang of pelicans here...
And my favorite, the white ibis...
And the driving was pretty HORRIBLE after the weekend's festivities compared to a few days earlier after the Wednesday storm.
Watchdogs!
And I sat and thought about Ralph's ashes and how he's no longer gonna be there every month to talk and visit with...
And I felt like this cormorant, just adrift in a maelstrom...
And I reached the spot that I wanted to fish...
And out the baits went...
And the Indians stayed in the dunes watching...
As dinner was SERVED.
And having used my zodiac as a battering ram, I stood on the rack and just let my arm hair raise up, knowing...that here I was, beaten, kicked, and pushed down, but back again and never backing away from the war that this Gulf provides a man....one of you and one of me, let the war machine keep turning, tonight would be the night....
You're not supposed to set baits in a blow this bad, but here it is...
And like always, I climbed up on the dune to watch and listen for those Indian flutes of Billy's that I know I could hear in the far reaches of my mind....
But nothing but Ralph's navy observation tower that he always talked of taking the glass from...more memories of my old friend...
But the island was quiet.
Only one Indian here tonight, and he's wearing his war paint...
All quiet, I made a dinner.
And watched the moon and stars.
And morning arrived eventless. That's sharking for ya.
And as the day broke, another blacktip.
Running on fumes after a long night of 25 knot gusting South winds, I searched the blown sands...
And found some Golden Cockles.
And after running out and pulling the traces, I hit the road.
Time to troll lures and hit the snapper holes.
But only grander Spanish were cooperative.
But there's always something so special about me and the old boat....alone and adrift off our shoreline, it's just a surreal experience and a pretty darn good way to see what's going on off the beach, which sometimes helps understand what you're experiencing at your tiny little camp...
Not bad.
Love those colors and I love Parmesan encrusted cast iron mackerel...
TEETH!
And as the pelicans began to circle way up high in the skies, I knew the next big storm was on its way....
And the snapper areas yielded.....!!!
So after about 6 hours out there, I came in to go for a swim.
And reset the drops, and pretty quickly discovered the reason for the season....the daytime shark bite was hot, night....was not.
This guy knocked the float so hard it literally SMASHED it's way around the 1st gut...
And here's just for you Albert....you SAID this new fancy pants wind on leader would look a certain way...and I asked why...and you said, you'll see...it just looks cool. And it does! And it DOES pass through those guides like no other.
And the day was beautiful.
So it became beach burger time.
And having to get back to pack up and get ready to head back to do another kind of battle on the Mississippi River, it was time to go, leaving them biting...
And before I left, I went and picked up this Cockle again and thought about how unlike this shell, we can be broken, we can be hurt, we can feel and think but we can come back stronger than before. And in that instant I realized maybe that was the day's lesson. And once again, Padre taught me something.
And hours later, there I was.
I'm terribly sorry for the length, but at least I stayed outta the dunes this time for ya'll and actually did some fishing, right? I suppose we are all gonna miss the Ralph's and Henry's in our lives when they're gone, whoever they may be. And I know I for one have no idea how I'll ever stand as tall as those great men of World War II did...So let's cherish each moment we have with eachother and be good to one another. And for God's sake, no getting naked and trying to set sail on the Corpus replica ship. Did I find the solace I sought down on that Island? I dunno, but staying busy sure helps one get through these sorts of things. And that in and of itself has helped. And I suppose time will take care of the rest...
Ya'll take care and catch some fish for me. I tried, but the pomps, and reds, and the like just weren't having it. Tight lines and fair seas.
--Colin _________________ Protect Padre at all costs for future generations to use and enjoy and never forget our freedoms aren't free.
Joined: 04 Mar 2014 Posts: 131 Location: Lewisville, Tx
Posted: Wed Mar 02, 2016 7:26 pm Post subject:
Thanks Colin, for another great write up! _________________ Career and Technology Teacher, because all individuals should have a career path other than a four year education.
Much as I enjoy the wandering the dunes report, enjoy the narrative of a fishing tail even more. I never met Ralph, but obviously a great man that will be missed. RIP Ralph...
Joined: 22 Jan 2011 Posts: 10 Location: West Texas
Posted: Wed Mar 02, 2016 10:41 pm Post subject:
Sorry to hear about the bad news TT. Im sure you already realize this, but he has provided you with a gift that will last your whole life. All the time it sounds like you spent with him was time well spent. He filled you with fishing information, and many a history lesson with first hand experience! Not many people have that opportunity, and its yours forever! Thank you for passing along your gift to us through your fishing reports and postings. I hope to see you on the beach again at some point, but until that time comes, just keep those lines tight!
Great report as always. My favorite part was hearing that reel...
You are right about the island and good times, loss and good memories. While a close friend introduced me to the island, the man who taught me that island, Eddie Pavlovski, had his ashes spread at Green Hill too. We had 50+ friends and family down island for the service. Eddie and his dad, uncles and brothers have been going down since the late 50's. The stories of the LONG trek to Big Shell back then--when Big Shell actually had the BIG shells--are epic. Old Willys Jeep burning as far as the gas could take it and then waiting on Uncles or Dad to bring the spare can down. And of course, more redfish than you could eat (stories of literal truck beds full) and the old 200 pound ice block literally thrown in the bed of the truck that would last darn near a week.
When I was down there with him, Eddie used to sit around the camp fire with his old yellow radio, a little Crown and a Macanudo-- and when Billy would drive by (early 2000s, when Billy would still come down darn near every day with a charter or two) Eddie would give him the finger and Billy would return the favor. And I can still hear Eddie yelling at me heading up Yarborough, "keep your da*n foot IN IT!!!"
There is always something cathartic about being down there. And while sometimes you're glad to see those dumpsters after a trip ("whew, made it again!"), there is also that feeling of loss ("da*n. It's over"). And the new memories made. Anyway, thanks for sharing. It brought back memories I hadn't thought about in a while. And here's to Eddie-- FISH ON brother. _________________ Fish ON!
Joined: 22 Jan 2011 Posts: 10 Location: West Texas
Posted: Thu Mar 03, 2016 12:49 pm Post subject:
HungerBuster wrote:
There is always something cathartic about being down there. And while sometimes you're glad to see those dumpsters after a trip ("whew, made it again!"), there is also that feeling of loss ("da*n. It's over"). And the new memories made.
This part is SO true, when we hit the pavement, those 2 thoughts run through my head and hit hard!! LOL...great stuff.
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"BINK" 
Did I find the solace I sought down on that Island? I dunno, but staying busy sure helps one get through these sorts of things. And that in and of itself has helped. And I suppose time will take care of the rest...
