Corpusfishing.com

[Towboat Trash]

Looking back, I guess now that he couldn't have been over 4 ft 10 inches tall, max. I was shocked to even see him alive after so much time had passed. But here he was in the flesh and without a shred of clothing on, donning a huge grin, and holding a tiny trout rod with a Curado reel in his right hand. The time had to be around 1 in the morning by the time we had found him at the 38 mile marker. The 1,100 lb Lindgren Pitman shark leader was in his left hand as he stood there dripping wet, having just apparently been neck deep in the surf in the middle of the night. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

The sky was clear and the day full of surf fishing promise the first time I saw the grey Toyota Tacoma in maybe 2009 or so. It was too clean to be a local beach rig truck, and the fellow driving it was obviously a city dwelling office type. But he was quite friendly as he flagged me down, "Where town are you from!" he asked. I was still single and without children and still had a lot of trouble behaving. "The 45! It's a town just south of here but there's no food, no fish, and a lot of crabs!" I enthusiastically answered him, just having left the 45 mile marker a few hours ago from an overnight. With a big grin, he replied, "Well I'm sure that's a nice little town, although that's a strange name. Are there fish here? I only have ever been fishing in Lake Conroe! How about any other men??!!" I breathed a sigh of relief, for apparently I wasn't being robbed, he was just of an alternative lifestyle, and had been looking for the "Naked Men of Kleberg" beach. I informed him that indeed there was fish on the beach, but the only men around were myself and an old smelly cantankerous cuss named "Billy" who was to be flagged down at all costs and informed that Colin said he enjoyed the company of other men. Like I said, a lot of trouble behaving. So I then gave him an appropriate leader and took my leave, but not before he offered me "a sailor." Remembering that he was clearly looking for male companionship, I shook my head, and took off. About a month later, I saw him again. "You again!" he said, with a big grin. "I've finished all my powerpoints and let the board know I'd be gone a few days, and I'm back! Want "a sailor?" And with that, he poured himself a stout drink of the one and only 92 proof Sailor Jerry rum in a tall mug and began extolling the virtues of some kind of new cubicle in which one could be much more productive in their "office workspace." Again, I took my leave. But I would see him regularly after that, about every month or two, and with time I figured he was just rowdy and wayward enough to eventually become one of the beach crowd, even IF he worked in some kind of high powered office in downtown Houston and drank some mess he called "the sailor." And besides, I figured his very presence would somehow annoy Billy.

Night was falling fast in the early March sky the last time I ever saw the businessman from downtown Houston. "With a little luck, I'll get right by him and he won't even know I was here," I thought to myself. I just had to get back to the bull sharks at the 41 mile marker and there was no time to spare for shenanigans about cubicles and who made a mess at the coffee station and all that. Plus he was always talking about this Post Oak and Westheimer stuff and how he needed a helicopter to actually be on time to the office. No such luck. He ran out into the road with a huge sloppy grin plastered right across his face. He was covered head to toe in Columbia everything, there had to be 500 dollars in synthetic fabric on his body. He even had the bucket hat with built in neck covering for sun protection on, although it was now ten minutes from total dusk. "You're just the person I needed! You! You! Thank God above! The team is all here!" And with that, he snatched open my driver door and about ripped me out. "I need your help!!!" he gutturally whispered through clenched teeth, the smell of "the good Sailor Jerry" wafting through it all. "If "Wang" doesn't catch a shark, the big deal will NEVER get inked and the board will sack me!!!!" All I heard was something about a wang, so with his alternative lifestyle in mind, I instinctively declared that I wasn't like that and tried to get back in the truck. I had my hand on the door when he pulled out a wad of cash. Out ripped a 50. "50 bucks! Here! Take it! Just help me please!" I had never been propositioned for strange beach love before and knew it was time to go. "Man, look man, I like females, you gotta go to Leopard street downtown with all that, google it, but I'm out!" Confused, he backed up and pulled out another 50. "$100 it is! Just help me catch a shark for Wang!" At this point, I just knew he either belonged on Bob Hall Naked Man beach, or there was something else very beach tribe here, that would annoy Captain Billy to no end that I had somehow had a hand in. A good story to be had was the clincher, and this was shaping up to be more than met the eye. I was proven correct, when from around the corner of his shiny Houston Tacoma, came a small in stature Asian man with a huge grin across his face. My companion whispered quickly, "This is Wang, he is visiting here from China on business, and he wants a shark, and what Wang wants Wang gets!!! Without a shark, no business deal when we get back to Houston, do you understand now! You have to help me, only you can get the deal done! You've got to give me a shark leader!" Relieved as to the outcome versus the alternative, I quickly grabbed a casted bait leader. "Oh no that will never work! We must have a bigger leader! The kind on the FRONT of YOUR truck!" he declared. My protests were futile. The hour was growing late, I had to be gone, and there was nothing else to do but give the man a big shark leader. Then out came another 50! "My friend, I can't take your money!" I again declared. "No! No! You SIMPLY HAVE TO!! TAKE MY MONEY!" And with that, he crammed what looked like $300 down the front pocket of my Team Buddhahead fishing shirt front pocket. For a moment I had to wonder what Buddha up in San Antone would think of that. "Wait," I asked, "Do you guys even have a shark rod?" "Wang says no rod, only the one he has!!! And what Wang wants, Wang gets!" The foreign businessman from overseas who apparently went only by the name Wang, unless my totally intoxicated friend had totally forgotten his name; deftly and with a big smile produced a tiny 6ft Falcon trout rod with a Curado on it. He grabbed the big 35 ft long shark leader from my hand and took off into the night around the truck with a hop in his step. "Wait, where's HE going?" I asked. "Don't worry about Wang! What Wang wants, Wang gets!" my quite inebriated friend declared. "As for you and I, well, it's time for 'a sailor!" I crammed the money, which now was a massive wad of $50's, back into my friend's pocket as he poured himself another drink. "Again, I'm good, you enjoy the whole sailor thing, I've gotta be going!" With a outcry reserved for a team building session at the company retreat he declared, "You can't leave now! Let me tell you about this new stock tip I got from a friend!" And with that he talked for over 45 minutes. The time was growing late, and there had been so sign of Wang. "Hey, where's Wang, where did he go again?" I asked. "Wang is good! He's just...doing whatever!" and then back to talking the markets in between more "sailors." The hour grew late and it had to be maybe 2 hours since we had seen Wang by the time I brought up Wang a 4th time. And then it finally sank in through the Sailor Jerry haze. "Oh no!!!! Wang!!!!! We haven't seen him in hours!!! If I come home without Wang the board will totally sack me and his business associates will have me jailed!! We have to FIND HIM!" And through tears of desperation, my Houston friend weeped hysterically and frantically ran up and down the dark beach screaming "Waaaaaangggggg!!!" into the dark night. There was no sign. He was gone. I had a spotlight for shark floats at the time, and even that was no help finding Wang. We had searched for over an hour, and were now waiting by the tailgate in hopes he would return. "I can't believe I've killed Wang!!" my friend cried in a sea of tears fueled by "the good sailor." "Look at what I've done!!!" he cried. All I could do was offer the suggestion that maybe Wang could swim. Which helped about as much as the pothole truck that runs around Corpus filling in holes all day. We were at the point of no return. While I hadn't seen Wang drink anything, maybe he had, and maybe he was sucked out a rip and drowned. In any event, his body wouldn't hit the sand for a few days and things weren't looking good. But wait!!! All of a sudden, from out of the dark night, there he was!!! With a huge smile on his face and the 35 ft shark leader tied to the line of his 6ft Falcon trout rod, there he stood dripping wet and totally naked, clothes totally gone, in the cold night air. "Shark!" he declared! And while there was no absolutely no shark anywhere, it didn't matter because the good Sailor Jerry was in tears of happiness currently engaged in a bone crushing bear hug around the totally nude man from China who had apparently spent the last 2.5 hours standing in the cold March surf butt naked holding onto the tiny Falcon trout rod with 35 ft leader tied to the end. And with that, I cried out, "Well, the reunion is complete! My work here is done, errr good luck and a good day to both of you, I'm out!" And the moment my foot hit the pedal of that 400 horsepower Hemi engine, Steve Earle began blasting out of 750 watts of amplified door speakers and I stomped down on that thing like my life depended on it so that even Billy would've been proud of my exit, and the last memory I ever had of "Sailor Jerry" and "Wang" is etched in my mind to this day of a butt naked man with minimal English supposedly from China being bear hugged by some high power executive from Houston eight rum drinks deep and crying tears of joy, with both hands gripping Wang's bare hind end. And all was normal that ended way down PINS normal, and what happened on South Beach PINS stayed on South Beach PINS. And that was the last I ever saw of either of them.

--2009 or so, another week, another beach trip


For forty days the flood kept coming on the earth, and as the waters increased they lifted the ark high above the earth. The waters rose and increased greatly on the earth, and the ark floated on the surface of the water. They rose greatly on the earth, and all the high mountains under the entire heavens were covered. The waters rose and covered the mountains to a depth of more than fifteen cubits. Every living thing that moved on land perished--birds, livestock, wild animals, all the creatures that swam over the earth, and all mankind. Everything on dry land that had the breath of life in its nostrils died. Every living thing on the face of the earth was wiped out; people and animals and the creatures that move along the ground and the birds were wiped from the earth. Only Noah was left, and those with him in the ark.

The waters flooded the earth for a hundred and fifty days.

Genesis 7:17-24




Howdy everybody. Wasn't planning on sharing this one, nothing much to tell here, but at the end of things I kinda wanted to share some cloud and rain pics. And heck, why not share the story of Wang and Sailor Jerry while I'm at it? The weather was not optimal, sea state a 3-5 occasional 6 nearshore. Nothing to write home about. And due to adult obligations I wouldn't be able to get to the sand until right before dark, but it would be the first time in June I got to fish without a charter group so you know what? Better shutup and enjoy what you've got young man. Off I went!


The sharpnose sharks were thick off the bar and pelicans were after menhaden and all was well.


And I had little time so I figured I'd spend the night in Captain Billy's old 2 year beach home for the night. Managed to run some baits out real quick over the bar and that was a wrap for the night.


And other than being woken up at midnight by a truck running 40mph south while towing a car dolly trailer 5 ft from my truck, it was quiet until about 0230. At which point he returned, was going to head on run into my truck, and at the last minute swerved to the high road and almost dragged the trailer down the side of my truck. He got stuck and I awoke to a full size Ram truck towing a Ford raptor on a car dolly repeatedly flooring it over and over back and forth 5 feet away from my camp and truck. And I had to wonder, what if I or customers were in tent kots on the ground? How long is it going to take until someone is killed on our beach by this crap? Why are you towing ANYTHING at 2am?



But the morning came and it was coffee time on Billy's dune.


And towing cumulus clouds rolled over me and I paid my respects to old Billy there.


And rain drops fell here and there and it was beautiful for June. And there were Cobia and Jacks and maybe a few amberjack off the beach to the north within reach of the Zodiac but I was fine, just fine, sitting there on my amost 40 year old arse being grouchy with the spirit of Billy.


And I loved how the raindrops, the big fat ones, would hit the sand and roll such a light matter up into a wet ball all over the slipface of the foredunes. And nothing mattered, even the idiot's abandoned eazy up canopy behind me.


And me and the Creator had a get right, alone at the 20.


You darn right. And isn't this what the national parks were all formed for? I often wonder why folks get in my truck and they are never silent, is being one and feeling that you are apart of nature a learned characteristic? Or are only a few of us ever going to be able to be that at peace among it? I just don't know.


And I watched some fresh baits sit in the bite zone and waited.


And wet a few lines and decided like I knew I would, to roam. I wanted to pay respects to Billy and Ralph Wade's last physical place on this earth. I'm standing here watching my own children grow and I wish almost every day that those of the greatest generation like my own grandparents could be alive and here to see and meet them. One day.




I know there's more after death than what you see here in this picture.


And as is ever the case anymore, where Billy and Ralph's ashes were spread was destroyed by idiots that Billy's "Ghost of the 33" wouldn't even waste his time on. The garbage was dumped over the dune everywhere.


Even baby shark?


And the cookware?


And this was the worst. What is wrong with the people that are attracted to this stretch of God's creation? Why are you and I different than these? And can we even make a difference at all?


And I walked the path through the dunes when a wonderful sight popped out to greet me. Commelina erecta "Day Flower, Widows Tears"


These guys and gals only bloom for a day. And I was glad to see them.


And the view was great as always.




And the tide was so high I remained the only one around.


And I sat there for a long time in the middle of the ants just watching them carry off dead bodies.






And the beach morning glory was opened all around me.




And it became time to take my leave and head for clear fishable water.




And I dunno whether the rain chased me, or I chased it.


But it was beautiful nevertheless.


And I didn't see hardly a soul.


And storm after storm rolled in off a rolly bumpy Gulf.


And I paid a visit to one of my ponds left over from Hurricane Brett.


But some googan abandoned his camp yet again.


"No one will ever know, we're in the middle of nowhere"


So I left to go catch a few reds for the kids fish fry.


Howdy.


And later on it was time to put em out again.


Hang em high.


Love to fish these storms.


And as the night fell and the storms began hitting the beachfront again, I snapped a few pics.


And thought about this old world, the whole thing, and old Noah there on one big old boat.


And I watched for animals on the deflation flats and hurricane fans, but everybody was hunkered down for the blow.


And droplets fell.


And as I sat there, something new popped up to be explored later.


And back on the beachfront, the Good Lord's handiwork smacked me right across the forehead and I knew this moment was why I came.


And the view for 15 minutes was stunning.


And while I was alone, no one for 15 miles or more, I knew I wasn't.




And I was so thankful for that moment, to be able to be there in it, living it.




And the stars popped out yet again.




And dinner called, and that was a wrap.



Sorry for the length, but whatcha gonna do. Wanted to share a few pics but ended up writing a tutorial on not throwing out garbage everywhere. Next up: the diaper disaster in the parking lot at a wal mart near greenwood.

I'll try and write about some fish next time...errr, maybe. Ya never know with me, heck I never know with ME. Ya'll take care and best fishing and take care of the beach and eachother. And don't get carried away by torrential rains if ya can help it. And absolutely, positively, unequivocally, NO STRIPPING NUDE AND STANDING IN THE SURF AT MIDNIGHT WITH A CURADO AND 35 FT SHARK LEADER.

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

www.padreislandexpeditions.com

[deputydawg]

Great write up and pictures as usual! I'm not quite sure how I would have reacted to the dude and Mr Wang! We were down last week and had a great day although the fish didn't cooperate much. Glad to see you post another adventure.

I'm heading the opposite way in the morning for a little different adventure. Doing a couple day trip out to the Chandeleur Islands. Should be fun!

[ratherbefishing]

Glad you posted again, Colin. I love your style of writing. Keep them coming...
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[Johninaustin]

Great post, and the exact reason I overnight in slots in the dunes instead of directly on the beach.

[CaptinAcademy]

I learn, Everytime I read one of your well written posts.

Thank you for that!

Steve
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Steve-O
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My biggest worry is that my wife (when I'm dead) will sell my fishing gear for what I said I paid for it. ~Koos Brandt

[BayFly]

Thanks for taking me along. BTW, those reels are not big enough! Also, I think there must be more then one "pothole truck" in CC?

[saltyhook]

Our resident beach word smith and photographer has shared his love and knowledge of the island once again . Collin the photos were first class and the story of naked shark fishermen with more money then clothes or fishing ability was priceless . So classic for the Island, for it seems the island seems to reveal and produce human antics you want see any where else .Iv seen some crazy weirdness several times there but have sadly not been lucky enough to have them pushing money into my pockets !
Thanks for the ride along & sharing your ruminations with us Collin . Its wonderful medicine for my old land locked soul that's hungry for some island time .
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Fishing is not a matter of life or death it is much more important then that !
Saltyhook

[saltyhook]

Forgot to also commend you for highlighting the GOOGAN activity . These folks are a real scourge on the island and the planet as a whole . Highlighting these slothful and illegal actions is the only way we have to hopefully change peoples behavior . You showed them - they didn't hide anything by thrashing grave sites with there trash ! Carry on Collin you da Man .
_________________
Fishing is not a matter of life or death it is much more important then that !
Saltyhook

[SeanHHH]

Another great read and pics. Thanks for posting.

[Southeast Of Disorder]

Collen, great pics and story's as usual. Please keep it going. The wife and i drove down to the Port M. jettys a while back and this jerk keep following me wanting me to pull over. I did not because it was a crapped out car and the dude had no shirt on or fishing poles sticking out of window. He finally over took us then stopped us and said i looked like someone he knew. I told him i dont know him. Little did he know i had my pistil cocked and was ready to raise it up out of the window, but he took off. Wish Kleberg county law dogs would chase these naked men away from the beach.