Corpusfishing.com

[Towboat Trash]

"It was a beautiful fall evening and the Golden Monarchs were in full migration as the late day Padre sun was setting the first time I ever saw Billy Sandifer. I was QUITE proud to be running an old rusty carbureted 1980 Jeep CJ-5 on the beach, and even prouder of how loud it was due to its true dual exhaust with glasspacks, its 4 speed manual transmission, and its 33's. Truly, no one could have been as old school cool or as rebellious as myself. As I packed a fresh lip of Skoal and lit the first Marlboro Red out of a new pack just because I could, (two is always better than one, right?) I heard a loud rumble from behind. From out of nowhere, the nastiest, rotted out, broken down, but also carbureted Chevrolet Suburban I had ever seen came flying by my camp with no other than Willie Nelson behind the wheel, and a pile of touristy folks hanging out the back windows. There was a slight nod of confirmation given by Willie there, and then a second look of mild curiosity before they blasted back off. The first emotion I remember feeling was that I had been OUTDONE, this vehicle was not only LOUDER, but it was almost as old as mine and at least half as rebellious! The second emotion I felt was that I had found my new haunt in South Texas, as certainly none of the bay fishermen could ever be as cool as whatever ole' fart had just driven by with fish blood all over his shirt and a necklace of shark teeth hanging around his neck.

Looking back, I miss those days. I think we all do."

--Some fella named Colin R. Davis, written in July 2017 on the http://www.padreislandexpeditions site.

"GOOD LORD ABOVE IT'S HIM!!!!! SWEET BABIES IN HEAVEN!!!" Quite audible gasp followed by the quick straightening of the buttons of a hot pink Columbia fishing shirt. "Ahem, uh, BILLY! BILLY! BILLY! OVER HERE! CAN LITTLE JIMMY SHAKE YOUR HAND??!!" Little Jimmy's face read a pout in only a way that a 9 year old boy's can. "EWWWW!! I DON'T WANNA SHAKE HIS HAND!" Massive flash of anger followed by an order. "You WILL shake BILLY SANDIFER'S HAND AND YOU WILL LIKE IT!!!!!" From the boy, "NO! EWW! NOT GONNA DO IT!" Dad turns back to Billy and stutters, "So sorry, so sorry, so sorry! I'm so sorry Billy!" Billy answers, "It's ok dude." Dad hisses like a cat, "LITTLE JIMMY SHAKE BILLY'S HAND NOW OR I WILL TAKE AWAY YOUR GAME STATION!" The answer, "EWW! NO! NOT SHAKING HIS HAND!" From across the crowd Billy's eyes deadlocked on mine, and I just shook my head, "TSK, TSK, TSK.... SHAME! Out here like the "Great Ayatollah." From across the packed Sharkathon awards ceremony crowd I saw him mouth back at me in a hiss similar to Little Jimmy's dad there, "Conn-Linn I will slit your throat and you will die!" Big grin back over the crowd's heads, I had gotten him again.

--Just another Sharkathon awards ceremony, circa 2008 or 10.

"Cone-Lee WHY and WHAT are you DOING whatever it is that YOU ARE DOING!!! WHY ARE YOU NOT FISHING FOR TROUT!!!!" Billy yelled as his Suburban pulled up to the greatest trout hole of the early June Island. I took another bit of a hot ticket of watermelon slice that the old lady had cut up for me. "YOU KNOW HOW I BE DOING WHAT I BE DOING WHEN I BE DOING IT!" An exasperated gasp followed with "NO! I do NOT know how you DO whatEVER it is that you DO, whatever that means!" My answer was quick. "A do-what? You smell some doo-doo? Man dang! Must be your upper lip?" The dip fell out his mouth as he tried to get the words out, and I knew I had him. "Cone-Lee I DO NOT HAVE ANY DEWWWW!!.....DEWWWWW!!!! ON MY UPPER LIP!!!! THE ONLY DEWWWW-DEWWWWWW IS WHATEVER IT IS YOU JUST TOLD ME!" Quick stomp of the accelerator but the rear wheels sank in 2wd and he was stuck. "Man dang! If you gotta doo-doo I got toilet paper, and dang you ain't a bad feller so lemme give you some watermelon it'll help you get it all out and feel better in your tummy and all!" "CONE-LINN I WILL SLIT YOUR THROAT AND YOU WILL BLEED OUT AND DIE!" And with that the 'Burb went into 4wd and sand flung all over me from his rear wheels and the engine wheezed out about 2,500 Chevy V-8 RPM and he was gone.

--2006, just another day on south island, trout fishing and harassing Billy.


"The Surburban came to a sliding halt right in front of me at the 5. "CONE-LEEE WHERE in the WORLD ARE YOU GOING and WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH VERN!!!!" My new Vietnam veteran friend and camping and sharking buddy was also a friend of Billy's and was currently somewhere about 25 miles behind me doing 9 to 10 mph, which was his maximum speed, in his hot yellow Jeep Wrangler, probably due to the vast weapons and ammunition cache he took everywhere he went. And I had finally got restless and had left him and he hadn't made it off by the time he had told Billy he would because I kept him up all night shark fishing. Well, and we had had an attempted robbery by a couple fools in Jeeps and Vern had saved both our bacons with some type of red dot lasers mounted on long rifles, but that's another story for another day. "UHH, UHH....I uttered." Quick yell, "UHH IS NOT AN ACCEPTABLE ANSWER! I...HAVE....WASTED!!! 12 DOLLARS AND 19 CENTS IN GASOLINE TO COME OUT HERE BECAUSE APPARENTLY VERN HAS BEEN ABANDONED ON THE ISLAND AND YOU HAVE DONE THE ABANDONING!!!! WHICH MAKES YOU AN ABANDONER!!!!" At that point, I knew I had him. "Man, dang!! Somebody got abandoned! Oh H to the ELL nah! Who done it! CALL THE LAW! Let's get EM! You and me! Right now!! LET'S GET A POSSE!!!!" The dip fell out the bottom lip as the words came out in a firestorm. "CONE-LEE YOU ARE THE ABANDONER AND VERN IS YOUR ABANDONEE AND I HAVE COME TO RESCUE VERN AND FRANKLY DO NOT GIVE A HOOT ABOUT RESCUING YOU AS YOU CANNOT BE RESCUED AS YOU ARE LONG GONE!!!!" At that point, I let the hammer drop with some "Maury Povich" show. "AND THE LIE DETECTOR TEST SAYS THAT THAT IS A LIE!" and released a big grin. And with that the Surburban's own hammer dropped and sand spun everywhere and there was screaming and ole' Billy was gone.

--A beautiful spring morning during weed season at the 5 mile marker, 2009 or so...


The late day July sun was getting low on the dunes when I saw him. "Yes!" I thought. I parked and walked right out into the trout hole where he was standing and fighting with a wind knot on his Daiwa Coastal lo-pro casting reel. "WHATSUP MANG?" in my best "Hustle and Flow" voice. Barely a glance, but a quick reply. "I know nothing about any MANGS Cone-Linn and I prefer not to know whatever it is that you have to share about them!" At that point I knew I had 'im. Out went the bag of Snyder's of Hanover brand Sourdough Nibblers. "Mang get you a Nibbler Mang! You'll like 'em! You'll be happier!" And with that, "Cone-Linn I do NOT want a SOUR-HOE NIBBLER!!" "Man come on now, you never know till you go, and besides, it's Un-American not to eat a Sour-hoe Nibbler! Err-body likes em!" Flash of anger as the wind knot would knot come undone, then, "CONE-LINN I DO NOT WANT A SOUR-HOE NIBBLER! I AM FINE AND DO NOT NEED ANY OF YOUR SOUR-HOES!!" A flash of fake sadness, and then, "EAT A SOUR-HOE NIBBLER RIGHT NOW OR YOU ARE UNAMERICAN! THEY WERE MADE BY SNDYER'S OF HANOVER IN PENNSYLVANIA BY THE AMISH!!" Long pause and then, "I DO NOT CARE IF THEY WERE MADE BY THE PRESIDENT OF UGANDA HIMSELF I AM NOT EATING A SOUR-HOE NIBBLER!!!" "FINE!" I replied, and stuffed 5 in my mouth. "BE A SOUR-HOE THEN!!"

--The low 50's, one of Billy's last charters he ever did, with croaker soaking customers.

"So ya saw Billy!" Ralph asked. "Yes sir, I sure did!" I replied. "Billy always comes here for Christmas dinner with me, did I tell you that? I taught him everything he knows, ole' Ralph here sure did." "Yes sir, I know that you did-but gosh it's a shame..." "What's the matter?!" Ralph asked. "Awww, you know-I offered him a sourdough nibbler pretzel and he wouldn't even eat none. Man..." "Well by golly! Who doesn't like pretzels! Next time you see him, tell him Ralph says eat a darn pretzel and be quiet!" "Yes sir, Ralph, I sure will," I answered."

--Visit with Ralph Wade, surf fishing legend


"You know, I guess I never ever did self-promote as much as people said I should have. And I guess I never ever had as much business as I would have if I had done that. People said I should have promoted myself more than I did. But I know looking back that I'll never ever have a dirty conscience because I always tried to find the balance between guiding and being a good steward of the resource. I always told them, "No, I won't do it. I'll never unleash the wolves. I'll never turn the wolves loose on that island." And that's what I think I did successfully. I walked the thin line between guiding and protecting the Island and every living thing on it from the masses, from the wolves. And I think I did that."

--visit with Billy Sandifer, Fall 2017. Could not agree more, some things need to be unshared.


Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waitin' for a train
And I's feelin near as faded as my jeans....
Freedom's just another word, for nothing left to lose....

--"Me and Bobby McGee", written by Kris Kristofferson, 1969


Yesterday is dead and gone
And tomorrow's out of sight....
And it's sad to be alone...

""Help Me Make It Through the Night", written by Kris Kristofferson, 1970


And I cursed the sun for risin'
'Cause the worst, Lord, was yet to come...
And it hurts to know it's over
For the hurt, Lord, has just begun...

--"Come Sundown", written by Kris Kristofferson, 1970


I was cornered and I knew it, and I was about to take the beating of my life. The hallway in my school was dark, and school was let out for the day, and the door that led out was locked for some reason. But we'll get to that.

His name was Jimmy. Jimmy, and he was about 3 years older than me and much more street smart, and bigger. After all these years, the name still holds a power and meaning like no other. Jimmy was just a 16 year old but tall orphan boy a little older than me, that always had had too little to eat but decent genes enough to be of a muscular build for his age. And Lester had taken him in, as he had so many other orphans that he and his wife had raised. My daddy didn't have many friends, but he was closer than blood with Lester. Lester was another Vietnam man like my daddy, and had stayed in the Navy after the war and been some kind of marine electrician. There wasn't much he couldn't fix from VHF radios to Single Sidebands to Tv's to the most complicated marine electronics I'd ever seen like radars and such. And Lester was part of my raising just like my daddy was, and part of Jimmy's of course as well. And Lester was old school strict. Jimmy rode a bicycle over the causeway and off to school over 15 miles more than once for getting thrown off the bus for misbehaving.

The point is that there are those who protect, those with an ingrained need to watch over the sheep, and Jimmy was one of them. And the funny thing is, after all the physical abuse Jimmy had seen in his short life, he was destined to be one of the protectors. But at that very moment, he was nowhere to be found, and I was about to take the beating of my life. There were projects/public housing all around my new school on the mainland, and I was a young white kid fresh off the Island in the distance, never been around the street code, the street culture, the drugs and the poverty and the stealing and the violence. Sheltered from it all, had spent my days fishing on the pier with my friends. I heard him before I saw him. One of the older dropout 18 year olds from the projects. He would come around now and then and steal and hurt the younger kids, and the previous week had put one of my friend's mouth down onto the water fountain and smacked his teeth right into the steel splashguard. His penchant for violence was well known. His grin was as wide as the rising sun, and I knew at once what he intended to do. Do unto others what had been done to him in his short life. His first shove put me down on my back, and he lowered down with a grin. And I knew it then when I saw the balled fists that he meant to sit on me and put a pretty good beating to me. But at that very moment, I heard a shout from the opposite end of that long dark hall. "HEY! YOU WANT SOMEBODY TO PICK ON GET YOU SOME OF THIS! Go, Colin. Go." The 18 year old got off me and I backed away. And then he slapped Jimmy full on across the face open handed. The crack-slap was unmistakable. Jimmy just inched in until he was nose to nose to the boy, looking up against the 6 inches the other had one him, and mouthed, "That all you got?" The boy hit him again, this time with a balled fist, and blood trickled out of the side of Jimmy's mouth, out from around his teeth and gums. And a third time, and a fourth time. And Jimmy just stood there, muscles bulging, veins poking out, smiling and smiling and smiling as his own blood ran and he taunted that bully from the projects. "That all ya got?"


There are those leave a mark on us. Captain Darwin, Captain Billy, and Jimmy all did. I found out about Captain Darwin, Dave Lester's brother, while waiting in Memphis for a boat to catch. And I stood there with the wind blowing all around listening to the breeze for hours.


Captain Darwin is on the far left. And I suppose he was always more than a boss to me, he was a second father in a way. He taught me to run a boat, how to curse and scream and trot line and gill net and shrimp fish and work until my fingers bled and we had to tape them up so I could keep heading shrimp.


And I had no idea we were about to lose Billy in a short time, and the cold breeze blew and blew in the February air and my eyes were wet thinking about how I never got to go see Darwin again and show him my daughter or my wife or the life that I've created since those days...


And all I know is that I had a charter coming up on Thursday so my trip would have to be brief, and could only be from Monday until Wednesday morning so I could prep for charter.


And I hit the Island again with no more purpose than a dustball in the wind....just drifting. And with all the loss from Nathan's father in law Ben, to Captain Darwin, to Billy....just numb. The only thought in my head was that I wanted away from humanity, and nobody around me but the birds and the breeze and the ghosts of Padre of which Billy is now....


And I stopped to look at such a beautiful flower. "Rhynchospora colorata" - White-topped Umbrella Grass. Its really a perennial sedge also known as starrush whitetop, white star sedge, and white-topped sedge. Once again, thank you Charles my biology and history and Island historian friend!


And after a stop at HQ, I discovered the north flow continuing on, and the brown water remaining.


And the Island was empty.




Without time to hit the jackfish hole due to a late start and stopping at HQ, etc. I rolled to the morning's BTB location and set em out.


Fly gull, fly.


And the moon rose right on time, and the major solunar period was about to be upon us just as the tide started running....




And the white ibis and the cattle egrets flew....


And jacks and bluefish and southern rays went out...


And the air grew chilly and I had the silence I so desperately needed, the only voices those inside my head...


And I fished ole Steve's 553 Harrington for the very first time, just nice and gentle, letting her get to know me and me get to know her...this life is short and these memories are all we're left with...


And I dunno where you been since before I was born, but we're together now...


And I ran out this virgin 555 Harrington that was never wrapped until now. Original Gudebrod thread, original Harrington wrap, no lies-no illusion-no attitude-just business.


And I climbed up on the dune and felt so alone, like everybody I know I'm losing, and like my generation can't fill their shoes....


And maybe it's just me, maybe I talk too much, maybe I write too much, but maybe I just don't give a da*n either.


This Island and this time spent on it is what heals me, and what makes sense to me, when all else back in town does not.


And the beach evening primrose opened up all around me while the night fell.


And the night was quite eventful as far as sharking goes....run after run...


And the next morning, I knew I needed to bring home dinner for little baby and the wife.


So I suited up and got ready for a quick run offshore.




And the usual suspects were around all right.






Yes sir.




And after playing with schools of jacks out there, and some other species, back in I came.


Now that was worth the effort, they can take this sharking and shove it where the sun don't shine doggonit.


Yes sir.




After a quick nap to recuperate from the previous night's ridiculous shark action, I resumed the sharking.


In the old war zone. My war zone. Me against me, the hardest battle I've ever fought-and if you have ever done the same then you know what I'm talking about quite well, don't you?


And the waves crashed and the wind blew and the birds flew....


Gosh, just look at that bend on that 553 Harrington. Good work as always Steve. And I ran out in mid afternoon and the same size bull sharks from the night before were present, with one directly over the first bar and a rather large 8ft-ish specimen covered in remoras over the 2nd bar just foraging amongst the water that had turned black from a menhaden school moving through. And I threw one a snapper carcass, and watch as he circled back around like graceful ballerina dancer just biding his time until he would strike.


And back on the rack, baits would get picked up on the 130 Tiagras time and again, and I don't really know why, but I'd let them run with these new breakaway shark weights for 50 feet, then I'd slap 'em with the full 99 pounds of drag and feel the hook pull free, just to do it over again.




And I'd watch as floats got smashed and baits took off for China. And I sat right there and listened to Kris Kristofferson and had a bad attitude, and loved every minute of it.


Bobbing and weaving....


And I sat there on that shark tower just staring at Billy's old handwriting. I never wanted any of your things Billy, like so many apparently did, as empty as your house is now. All I ever wanted was your time. And you gave me that if I asked for it. And you knew I'd never worship you or try to get everything I could out of you. True friends are never about that. Our good friend Senior J wrote recently that you were like a letter that was never sent. There were truer words never spoken Billy. It's not your fault, everyone just wants different things from people and I know you gave what you could to who you could.


And I saw through the tape where you had previously been asking 180 for this old worn out belly plate and harness and I laughed. And I got boosebumps. Because you're no longer in the Bluff anymore, you're probably right behind watching me from the dune line while the sun sets, and you're probably getting ready to get after me for picking...


And I sat there for hours. And no one came by really. I had my silence. But I didn't have my healing. I guess that's just gonna take time, and you can't force it.




And I could feel your presence I swear it. I know you were there, and I know you were watching....




And schools of krill came through like I'd never seen before in late April....






And I sat on the dune and heard that slap across Jimmy's face all over again, just an orphan whose parents abandoned him. And thought about his, Ralph's, Billy's, and Captain Darwin's impact on my life and so many others...


And the primrose opened up again, just pounding on my heart's door once more.


And I know Darwin and Billy and Ralph are out there now watching down.


And I watched more flowers open up.




And I got restless so I grabbed a 10 year old trout rod that I caught my first tarpon on. And took a walk, because like a stone, time rolls on.


And dinner was really good, as the previous night I just hadn't eaten at all.




And through all the runs and sharks, there was only a hair of a scent of weed.


And the morning brought higher southerly winds and no time but for getting home to prep for Thursday's jackfish charter.




And the day before there had been wind rows of this brown substance from 3/4 mile to 1/5 miles off the beach, and it hit the shoreline in the morning. And I've seen it before, and we always thought it was fish eggs or phytoplankton...


And when I put it in a bucket, it swirled around and around almost as if it was alive....


So I did some digging after getting home...

And found the following....

"All,
Thank you for forwarding the photos. This appears to be a blue-green algal bloom identified as trichodsmium sp. I have included a link to some images that should help. This was also observed along the beaches of Mustang Island over the weekend and reported as a pollution complaint.

https://www.google.com/search?tbm=isch&q=trichodesmium&chips=q:trichodesmium,online_chips:trichodesmium+bloom&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjNlOzCz-TaAhXkY98KHcZPC4QQ4lYIKSgD&biw=1057&bih=872&dpr=1

Not to jinx us, but this has been identified as a precursor to our favorite algae of the red variety.

Thanks.

Alex Nunez
Texas Parks and Wildlife Department
Coastal Fisheries - Ecosystem Resource Program
Kills and Spills Team, Region 4
Coastal Ecologist"








Thanks for reading, if you made it this far. I do apologize for the lack of real fishing, and fish photos. I just didn't have the heart to photo it all. And I really only wrote this for me, that's it. I thought going down the Island where life meets death and people go when they need to put their backs to the world and to the open sea would send me home whole again, but it only brought me face to face with how I really feel I suppose. And it's raw and it's not nice and it's happy and then it's sad and there's nothing one can do about any of it at all. You either feel it or you're gonna feel it later, you can't push these things off forever. I'm gonna miss Billy and I'm gonna miss Darwin and I don't want either of them gone and I'm not happy about any of it. But at the end of the day when the sun sets, this is the cycle of life and death and not a darn thing will change that. And at least we were able to have them while we could, and able to accept what they were able to give us. And we will never know who were are touching, just like Jimmy there, who never knew his parents but took bloody teeth and gums to protect someone else. Will you do the same? I know I would. And Jimmy gave me that. What will we give those around us?

Ya'll take care, it's blowing again and I suppose it's leader time and gear fixing time again.

To all those we've lost, Rest In Peace, you were gone too soon and you are missed terribly...

--Colin
_________________
Protect Padre at all costs for future generations to use and enjoy and never forget our freedoms aren't free.

www.padreislandexpeditions.com

[Tyler]

True story that right there. Thanks Colin! I didn't get any of Billy's stuff except for what's in my head! Oh and his book on artifacts of Texas. I got that just for the smell of the Coyote Lair.
_________________
Like Corpusfishing.com on Facebook!

[OSO YAKMAN]

Thank you so much. As always, I truly enjoy reading your posts and see the great pictures.
_________________
Be the kind of man that when your feet hit the floor each morning the devil says "Oh Crap, he's up!"

[ratherbefishing]

Thanks again Colin.

I have enjoyed your Ralph stories in the past, and now Billy's. Please keep their memories alive and help us get to know your friends.

Joe
_________________

[deputydawg]

True words!!! Thanks for taking the time to share them! My world is a better place because of the feelings and words you share. Helps me understand life a little better!

Hope your charter goes well and your girls are happy!

[parttime]

Amen.

[Rebecca of Sunnybrookfarm]

good one Cone-linn....
becky
_________________

[jeff89]

Enjoyed it. Thanks

[saltyhook]

" But I didn't have my healing. I guess that's just gonna take time, and you can't force it." So true it is Colin. These losses remind me of one of Zane Grays fishing stories about a young boy and "Old Muddy Miser". Muddy said-
"Lorry you will make a great angler, I see that in you. And by great, I do not mean one who merely catches fish. Once you seize upon the something that can not be put into words you will understand what I mean. Do not let any one blind you to the dignity and worthiness of fishing."
_________________
Fishing is not a matter of life or death it is much more important then that !
Saltyhook

[manuel9622]

Just awesome!
_________________
Shallow Sportn' it