With the summer getting its stride and hurricane season cutting its teeth, I'm reminded of the days I spent fishing on the Gulf of Mexico with one of my "brothers." While not blood by birth brothers, we became blood brothers by experiences. We share a love of the salt water and the fish that swim within. That's where this account has its roots. And while I'm not one to be long winded (yeah right), in order to give this account fully I feel it necessary to relate it in 2 parts.
I met Jack while living in Panama City Beach. We both worked in the same building and forged a fast friendship after having been introduced. We had that instant bond that fisherman share and spent as much time on the water as we did off it seems. There wasn't one chance to fish that we didn't take advantage of. No matter the weather; no matter the time. We simply fished. Jack owned an 18 foot center console Cobia that we fished from. To me it was a yacht! The craft was named Gumbo as an homage to his Louisiana roots. It was a fine fishing vessel that never failed us.
As I stated, Jack and I fished every chance we got.
Our ritual was that we would meet up at the marina and as we readied all the rods and reels we would listen to the marine weather report. On this occasion we were performing our ritual and the weather report came across the airwaves. The announcer gave the condition of the seas outside the bay and I was only half paying attention as usual. Jack was the Captain and I was simply the deck hand. I let him worry about the weather. I had to worry with rods, reels, lines, cigar minnows and rigs. But for some reason my ears heard the announcers last words, "Choppy in protected waters." I smirked and thought, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Who cares. I'm fishing today!" I saw no concern on Jack's face and that was good enough for me.
As we threw off the lines and eased out of the slip Jack said calmly, "It's too rough outside the bay so we'll just fish in today." Bay fishing was fine with me. I was still fishing after all. I nodded my understanding and began changing out the rigs we would be using. Jack turned Gumbo into the bay and we headed to our secret honey hole across the bay.
As we motored out I looked over my shoulder towards the pass and I noticed gray clouds over the gulf. I pointed at them and Jack acknowledged them. I could tell he was considering our fishing options and returning to the marina was NOT one of them. Jack idled down the motor and informed me that we would be fishing further up the bay than usual. His thinking was that if the clouds caught us, we'd be far enough in the bay that the wind and rain wouldn't be as bad. Sounded good to me as long as I got to wet a hook. That's where things started to get a little shaky.
As we eased up they bay it became VERY apparent we were not going to outrun the storm. What was a lightly colored gray sky was now blackened like charcoal. We could see sheets of rain falling onto the water behind us. As Jack started to throttle up we could see the clouds throttling up faster. We were not going to outrun this summer storm. Then it got bad.
Okay folks. There is part 1. Part 2 is to follow!!!
- JD
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