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Date: Tall Tails!
Title: Feb 28
Date: 28 Feb 2005
Time: 12:22:12 -0500
C.K. CK fished with Little B and I this week. I was blessed to have the opportunity to meet him through a mutual friend, Keith Perry from Ocala. We share a hillbilly background with both of us spending a portion of our lives in the mountains of West Virginia and having relatives still there. CK is a rare breed with a bold humorous personality that is more than likely generated from the sheer glee of still being alive. Few above ground people can tell others they have been hit by lightening. “Boss man, is you dead?” asked one of his railroad workers. Fewer still can say they got it twice. “Boss man, is you dead, yet?” Twice struck! When I heard that, I checked the clouds. Dense fog, for the moment, but I kept an eye out all day. Then how many people have had a one and half year old accidentally discharge a rifle and blow a baseball hat off your head. A clean hole right through the bill of the cap, not a scratch on him. I didn’t ask but I can imagine there was a big stain elsewhere. Then there are stories from the professional bull riding days. Here’s one from CK’s ‘Hey, ya’ll watch this file’… He and a buddy had to move a 1500 pound bull from one pasture to the next. “CK you get in the bed of my truck (brand new Toyota 4x4) and I’ll ease us close enough so you can toss a rope around him and then tie it off to the bumper hitch. We’ll lead that bull through the gate” says the friend. CK lassos’ the bull, ties it off to the hitch; the plan was perfectly executed. That is until the bull decided not to trot along, on a leash, to the other pasture. So they began to drag the animal by the neck. That was a bad idea. The bull soon figured the truck was the source of all its’ current problems. It charges the truck, rams its’ horns through the door on one side then around the other side to put it’s horns through the passenger door. Each blow tilted the truck to the point of flipping over. “CUT the rope, Cut the rope!!!” After $7000 worth of damage the bull is released back to the wild. It would have been a world class record catch; however, the International Game Fish Association disqualified it because a truck can not be used as a fishing reel. Then PETA got wind of it through the insurance paper work and it spiraled down hill from there. Next time use an older truck and one not painted red; maybe things will go smoother. Anyway, it’s fun to fish with people who grab life by the ‘horns’ and enjoy the moment by moment blows of living. Time is enjoyed not merely spent. And we enjoyed sharing stories and fishing. The day we fished together was covered in dense fog. Visibility, except for a few brief moments, ranged from 150 feet to less than a quarter mile. Running a boat in ‘pea soup’ means slowing down considerably and having multiple people keeping their eyes and ears open at all times. I don’t like lightening or fog. Both are dangerous situations. Lightening will kill you. Fog will let you kill yourself. The water temperature was a warm 64 F thirty miles offshore. I’ve found the grouper to be far less than active when surface temperatures are 59 F or below. Warm waters are encouraging in the winter time. The first area, 62 feet, I decided to drag a four pack of Stretch 30’s through before anchoring down. That day trolling was a fifteen minute waste of time. We anchored down on a great spot I had found trolling several years ago. It was a twenty minute dud. The next spot, same depth, made up lost time. Everyone was catching grouper. The live bait was a little better than the rest but frozen herring and cut pink mouth grunt were working as well; it just took a minute longer to hook up. After ten or eleven keeper fish we picked up. There were obviously fish in that area but I had a wild hair and took us out to 72-75 feet; an area I hadn’t fished in quite awhile. The fog slowed us down. We chicken picked out to 80 feet. Each stop added a fish or two to our tally. During the chicken picking, I held back the live bait. I was working out to an amberjack hangout and wanted plenty of wiggly things to offer them. The jacks were there but none made the grade. Great fun anyway. From there we worked our way back in to 62 feet. Some of the spots along the way produced while others were a blank. The seas had turned so calm that we didn’t have to anchor. Not having to drop the hook made sorting the good from the bad a lot faster. A five minute float by was all we needed to determine if a second drift was necessary. It was a fine day on the water with some great folk. During the course of the day, I found out CK had gotten wind of fish named goliath. I asked him if he wanted to catch it or ride it? I explained I didn’t bring the equipment necessary to reel it in. I also explained that even with the heavy gear, you’re not likely to bring it to the surface. All that did was excite him even more. He’s coming back to take the challenge. I’ll keep you posted on the outcome of that adventure. If you’d like to meet CK, he owns Ozzies Kamikazee’s paintball course in Ocala. Sheepshead are starting to stagger out to the artificial reefs. Expect to need a little patience to collect a nice mess for diner. Thanks for taking the time to read. Take care of yourself and your tackle. Capt B When you bait your hook with your heart, the fish always bite! JOHN BURROUGHS (C. 1885)