Monster on the Wall--part #5

My chance came much sooner than I could have hoped for, a year had passed and we were again preparing to visit Delray for the Christmas hollidays but this time dad had a big surprise.MY Uncle Robert and his new wife Gail were chartering a sport fishing boat out of Boynton Inlet and dad and I were their invited guest.I could hardly contain my enthusiasm--and the trip south seemed to take forever.
It had been 10 years since I had first seen Grandads Monster on the Wall and with each passing mile I was closer to a chance that lady luck might shine on me-and make my childhood dream a reality.
We arrived in Delray late at night,stayed up for a while visiting with my grandparents and talked about the next days adventure.
I really had a hard time falling asleep because I was so keyed up.I was awake, envisioning a huge sailfish rocketing into the sky. I was holding tight to the rod as the huge billfish crashed back into the sea,the whine of the drag blended with the sounding alarm clock and I heard a voice saying Ricky wake up,it's time to start getting ready.
The day I had waited for-was at hand,this was certainly no ordinary fishing trip,it was the gulfstream where the big fish roamed--and I would have my chance--we made final preparations and it was time to go.
Dad and I rode with Robert and Gail,the rest of the family would follow to see us off. Robert told us that the boat he chartered was the "My Sweetheart",captained by Homer Adams,one of the most experienced Skippers in the fleet and he often found fish when conditions were not favorable.
We turned onto A1A heading North toward the inlet,the Atlantic waters were blue and docile,only a few puffy white clouds floated high in the sky.We arrived at the inlet,the parking lot was abuzz with activity and filling up fast. We made our way onto the dock past a number of boats and suddenly there she was,The My Sweetheart,long and graceful and pure white--she sparkled in the mid-day sun.
Captain Adams spotted Robert and said "welcome folks,it's a great day for fishing",I could not have agreed more.
The mate then helped us on board,we stowed our gear,then watched the mate prepare the tackle and the special ballyhoo baits we would be using.The Captain invited me to join him up on the flying bridge for the trip out to the fishing grounds.The elevated vantage point was great. I waved to the family as the Captain fired up the engines.The mate walked about the boat walking the gunnels with sure footed ease,casting off the lines.
The boats propellers agitated the water a frothy white and we began to move,the Captain skillfully manuevering the boat from its snug berth.The engines low gutteral throb became a more audible roar as we made the turn into the current and green water of the inlet.We all waved again at family and the huge throng of people lining the seawall,the blue waters of the Atlantic lay just ahead. WE reached the rough water and Captain Adams,sensing my concern just smiled and said"no problem"-he then pushed the throttles forward and the My Sweetheart powered through the cross currents with ease and we were on our way.-------more later

Before I move onto paradise in Maryland, I need to say a few more words about my first 7 years of life---first of all--I don't remember the first 3--which were spent in a place called Baileys Cross Roads-sp?-Va.-in a little brick house--which my parents bought right after dad got home from the war--WW2--
They sold that house when dad started his own business--in D.C
If things were rocky around our house with the arguments etc--they were tempered by the pure enjoyment of going to my Grandparents house every Sunday after church--thank God for Grand Parents!!!
I loved them to death--there house there yard, their dogs--Rusty and Chico--the fun and excitement they stirred in us with stories and teaching us things and--Grandad allowing us to make money doing chores and always he was handing out 50 cent pieces---and the food--let me tell you--I may have had a spartan existance Mon -Sat--with mom being the worlds worse cook--but come Sunday Grandmother C--would serve the worlds greatestmeals and desserts----she even let us help snap peas and lick the bowl of cake batter--I'm going to go into a lot more detail about the Grandparents influence on us and the joy they brought--and salute them right now---they are both gone from this earth but not from my heart or memories--------more later---Eric

My Favorite place

Part way through 2nd grade at Walter Reed Elementary in Arlington Va. in 1952--dad got a new job in Edgewater Maryland--and we moved from the red brick apts. called the Waldorf--and it was the most memorable move in my young life--I was moving to paradise!!!
First we went there to hunt for a house---and after I saw the place--I didn't care what we lived in--it was on the water--almost every house had a dock or a boathouse--Mom and dad narrowed it down to two houses--the first place was on the far side of the cove--2 story with knotty pine paneling throughout--fire places a basement--large guest room upstairs--with 10 beds for company----cots but--looked like a dorm---they said ya get a lot of company here.
There was a long boatdock and at the end of it was a cabin cruiser that came with the house----oh brother!!!PLEASE PLEASE-PLEASE---the parents liked it but felt it was a little steep--for them--and then we looked at the other house---------and behind curtain number two--our house in Paradise---
Let me describe this house--it was a single level house sitting on 2 1/2 acres--with huge trees--it was large--with hardwood floors throughout--and a massive porch across the front--and a basement--the innner walls close to the porch came down to allow seabreeze into bedroooms--the cove was across the st. and down the bottom of a dirt road--and there at the bottom was our own boat dock//let me rephrase that--our own Boathouse--it had stalls for two boats,under roof--it had picnic table on it--benches across the front and railings in the front for fishing--under roof-had a fish cleaning table---and the cove was fishing grounds central----the yard had a lattice work like tunnel that went in a L shape around a lot of the yard--and it had lillies of the valley growing all over the outside of it and every so often there was a benches area and little gazeebo for relaxing with your sweetheart------I just thought about fishin in those days--
There was a 6 foot tall privacy hedge across the entire front of the yard---and just to the side of the house was the most beautiful Scotch Pine tree you have ever seen--it was at least 85 feet tall--with giant pine cones and with thick needles that tree had you could sit under it in a rain storm and stay pretty dry.
My life was about to get a whole lot more interesting-----more later--The Codge

The colorful lights from shore and the star studded sky helped create an artistic master piece upon the black velvet canvas and the ripples born from a slight night wind accent the surface beauty,giving it a shimmering appearance.The trees with brached arms outstretched,stand as staunch sentires,guarding the lake.There is a brilliantly lit cathedral spire casting its likeness upon the waters face,and the lights of aircraft skim the surface unimpeded,flashing across the teflon plain on wings of silence and then disappear into the night.
The sound of wind on wings spirited over head as a bird flashed by on his way to full-fill an agenda known only to him.There are bright flood lights at docks ends that pierce the shadows and attract a storm of insects who fall easy prey to the birds and bats above and the hungry fish below.
The attack upon the bait we cast may only be a tap,but it shudders through graphite,through our hands and to the brain,signaling a STRIKE;lower the rods tip,take up the slack and prepare to set the hook,but into what?,a fat and sassy Bass,or some powerful creature you have just awakened from a million year slumber,such are some of the possibilities in the world of dark imagination and a reality found in the world of night fishing.
When you catch fish at night you may not view your quarry right away,but you can hear him, the blast of water thrown skyward,the surface commotion and feel his violent gyrations as he tries to shake your hook.
These bass may stay deep for a while or blast from the water like a rocket,their huge cavernous mouth looks as big as a wash tub as they clear the water,your heart pounds--his size and your embellishment make him a 20 pounder before he comes to net and light.
Night fishing offers adventure and memories so remember---there's an old moss backed monster waiting along some darkened shore or lying beside a cayon wall or benneath the brush through a small pot hole, tap tap, it's a strike,rod tip down and prepare to set the hook when the sun goes down and the fish and imagination turn on. The end-Eric

I went bass fishing with my dad often at night and wanted to write a short story to describe what the experience is like--the following is that offering.

NIGHT FISHING

I backed the sleek bass boat down the narrow ramp into the ebony stillness of the lake,and the sudden displacement of water by fiberglass and steel,sent a surge of waves rolling out into the darkness.These waves would meet their deminished demise lapping up against the distant shore.
The powerful Evinrude outboard roared to life,and this sudden violation of what had been a tranquill moment sent a flock of ducks into a panic and the flutter of their wings and race to gain flight was clearly heard from a darkened region of the lake. There was a whisp of white smoke from the motors exhaust--which hung suspended for a moment in time and then was whisked away by the soft night breeze.The Sling Shot Bass boat slid easily from the trailer and rested comfortably upon the black satin plain,the mysterious sable depths below and the star and moonlit heavens above.
We knew the lake well by day but with the setting sun and ensuing darkness,came an air of mystery that stirred the imagination.
The canal to our left was shrouded in a veil of fog--this scenic pathway to another lake now a twisting highway into a blackened void.
The familiar landmarks and terrain along shore now were reduced to shadows peppered by points of light.The light bulb which lit the ramp area was nearly obscured by a swarm of insects, attracted by its luminous beckoning and warm radiance.
The pounding beat of rock and roll could be heard from a lively party somewhere across the lake, an oldie that stirred memories of younger days.
We moved away from the ramp area to the strains of " The Little Old Lady from Passadena",the rythmic slap of water on the bow kept time,and a moonlit pathway lay before us.The music whailed,go granny,go granny go,the motor whined,the bow rose in the air,hesitated a moment then settled down,rose briefly one more time as the motor gorged itself on fuel and in a burst of power the boat hugged the mirrored surface and we were screaming across the lake at 50 m.p.h the sounds of rock and roll obliviated by a cresendo of noise from the maxed out motor and the sound of water as it shed itself from fiberglass.The sudden rush of wind caused tears to well in the eyes,the deafening roar of the motor carried on the wind and through the water,turtles dove for the bottom,bait fish scattered in every direction and fish leaped from the water in a race to escape the speedy predator that had entered their realm, a predator bearing gifts,tantalizing lures to entice the wary and also a predator pocessing keen electronic eyesight,capable of penetrating the ink hued aquatic regions,revealing the mountains,caynons and plains and the fish that lived there.

We crossed the lake to within a few hundred feet of the shore,turned off the motor and began to stalk our prey,the more quiet hum of the trolling motor propelled us through grass beds as we cast our fishing lines toward shore presenting artifical worms toward appealing spots just visible in the moonlight.
The driving beat of rock and roll again pierced the evening solitude,War,what is it good for?,Absolutely Nothing!,say it again,War,and below the plain where light diminishes and mans unaided eyes cannot see,the creatures in the watery hidden shadows fed on the weak,the carnage imaged only by the limits of our own imaginations.Without clear vision you focus on sounds , a crash in the grass near shore, a sudden swirl of water, as larger faster life consumes smaller slower morsels--the survival of the fittest a never ending drama--above and below the the waves.-----more later