Monster on the Wall

By day he was eight feet of motionless stone cold beauty mounted on the wall behind the bed, a magnificent creature frozen in arching leap,having died in a fierce battle fought years before.
To a young boy he came alive at night,rising from a sea of twisted branches and mysterious shapes that danced across the walls in the moonlight.There was an ominous look to his one dark eye and his
cavernous mouth was open wide to consume his prey.----more later

I left my spot on the cooler to make room for Scott to throw the 12 foot cast net--his 6 ft.3 inch frame and long arms allowed him to throw and open the big net with no problem---first try no Pogeys--yet the water was full of the little dudes---second try Scott pulled the net almost the second it hit the water---BINGO--200 Pogeys!!
We found the bait and then a torrential downpour found us---the bottom fell out--heavy sheets of rain poured from the sky for the next two hours---It was a safe rain--no lightening-the wind and waves were not too bad either--just a good soaking--and when it ended our pathway to the Nassau Banks was lit with sunshine and filled with promise as we headed east. I was pleased to see how well Scott and his buddy Gail worked as a team, many hours of fishing together had honed them into a good tandem. They readied the gear as we arrived at the Banks.
They prepared double live Pogey rigs and two rods were set on the port and starboard downriggers. We.. were in 65 foot of water and the baits were set at the 30 foot mark, another rod was put out about 40 yards behind the boat, and on the last rod-they fabricated what's called a Zombie Rig--this was awesome!!They had a ribbon fish, a dead one about 2 1/2 feet long on which four treble hooks were inserted along its length.In front of the Ribbon Fish on a single hook they put a live Pogey bait. This bait was set out just a few yards behind the boat and could easily be seen.The POgeys swimming motion caused the ribbon fish to look alive further more the Pogey in front thought he was being chased by the Ribbon Fish--causing the Pogey to dart around frantically trying to shake the hungry predator on his tail.What an outstanding bait combination and it would soon pay off!!
We discussed what might be caught out there,Cobia and Kings were the main focus.We didn't think Mahi- Mahi was much of a liklihood because they normally bit much further out than we were--as we were just on the edge of the Banks at a distance of 7 miles from the beach.I was staring at the Zombie rig going from side to side when suddenly from the right a streak of Green Yellow and Blue knifed through the Patriot blue water and nailed the ribbon fish.Scott hollered grab the pole dad. I said you get it son. I was more interested in watching them than catching fish that day. Scott grabbed the pole to fight the lively Mahi -Mahi.He jumped right away blasting skyward the meet the sun--his head shaking violently from side to side--he was a four footer and great table fare--
The rest of the day we caught 4 sharks in the 4 foot range--I enjoyed the day and look forward to other trips in the future--fishing out on our N. Florida waters.---Eric

The Nassau Banks

From the Mayport jetties to Fernandina Beach is a beautiful run along the coast. I was familiar with this area from articals I had read while hunting artifacts and looking for buried treasure--with my metal detector--it had been home to pirates in the 16 and 1700's. The old dunes along the coast had been the camp site for many a pirate and the burying ground for many a treasure--or so the stories go--no telling what lay below the sand.
The unspoiled beach was a protected area--weather beaten logs and wind swept sand and flowers and other greenery made an
inspiring sight an actual living post card
of natures beauty-and many an artist had duplicated their vision of this scenic coast.The palm trees swayed to the tempo of the wind, the white capped waves broke upon the sand bars signaling shallow water--as Gail moved the Bounty Hunter a bit east to deeper water--our eyes peeled for the Pogeys--our bait of choice.
The unpopulated portion of the beach eventually gave way to signs of civilization--as homes were seen,and condos--as Amelia Island Plantation came into view--a millionaires playgrond on the North Florida Coast. People could be seen walking along the beach many with their pet dogs in tow, little poodles and other noteable breeds enjoying the early morning stroll. There was a large building looming in the distance--" The Ritz Carlton Hotel" .
WE had moved past Nassau Sound a ways when suddenly birds could be seen diving to the surface in a frenzy--we had found the elusive Pogeys!! more tomorrow in part 3

The Nassau Banks

I parked the car and walked toward the boat ramp, which was becoming more luminous by the rising sun. The Bounty Hunter was already moving back toward the water. Son Scott was in the boat and as soon as the wheels of the trailer went under--the big Evinrude came to life and into reverse.
The boat eased off into the water and rocked slightly from side to side---a 21 foot fishing machine, a center console boat with a V-6 200 H.P, all rigged out with overhead canopy,gold anodized rod holders, GPS-fish and depth finder,radio and two Penn down riggers.
The boat had a nice deep V hull and should handal larger waves quite well.
I sat on the the big cushioned ice chest facing forward and readied my digital camera for the first few shots. The Bounty Hunter swung east toward the open water. The horizon offered both sunshine and masses of gray as early morning thunderstorms peppered the sky from North to South. Gray clouds drilled the ocean with torrential rains from thousands of feet in the air.
Scott and Gail discussed the weather and turned the radio to the latest forecast.
The morning thunderstorms should ease by 9:15 A.M. It was now 7 A.M and we were between the rock jetties. I took a pic of the ominous sky and another of two channel pilot boats, and as soon as we cleared the jetties Gail turned the bow north and then west as we moved closer to the beach--which we would parrallel heading toward Fernandina Beach and Amelia Island in our search for Pogeys/Menhadden-our live bait for the day.
THe Nassau Banks were our fishing destination, a stretch of water 10 miles east of Nassau Sound with a water depth of 65 feet. It was here the previous week where Scott and Gail had gotten into a large number of Cobia and one of their most exciting days where few things went right and a bunch went wrong. Laughingly later, a real fishing adventure and learning experience.
I held on for dear life as the waves pounded the bow and jarred my body but the ride was great. I was out on the ocean again, a place I always felt at home.
more this evening

Lake Berry 1958

In some ways it must have looked similar thousands of years ago, this unspoiled aquatic paradise.The depths teamed with ravenous large mouth bass and the shores were alive with wildlife and foliage of every description.
Nestled serenely in Winter Park, Florida.,this ancient dark pool was majestic,mysterious and alluring.To first glide across its mirrored surface in 1958 was a real adventure.There were no houses on its shore and no boat ramp. WE had to ease our boat down an embankment to gain access.The treasures in her depths were abundant and the visual treats along her jungled banks were a sight to see.
In the shadows of early morning or when the tide of darkness swept in, Lake Berry would take on a forboding look.The imagination of a 13 year old boy could conjur up visions of some ancient creature rising from its pitch black waters to devour some hapless fisherman plying its pristine shore.
In reality, large reptillian creatures with mouths full of teeth would slide off her banks and glide like silent subs benneath our fragile craft. Huge Cypress trees stood like weathered sentinels and the flora was alive with strange and wonderful birds of every color. One strange winged creature could be seen high in the Cypress. They had long necks that looked like snakes and would extend their wings, drying them in the sun,or in an instant fold them close to their body becoming sleek and compact and then dive to the water below toward an unknowing victim--the impact upon the water made a slight hiss sound and tiny ripples quickly disbursed, life and death playing out on the watery stage.Some birds walked the thin algae on the waters surface as if they were dancing on a wooden floor.
Old fallen trees rose from the murky abyss like skeletons of the past, weathered and gray, like trophys of defiance refusing to decay.
I learned to paddle our old flat bottomed boat and to quietly cut the surface with my paddle, a silent surgeon leaving only small whirlpools in our wake.
You could cast your line and the bait would barely settle below the surface before being devoured by a hungry bass. The drags on the closed faced reels would whine as the fish would make their furious charge often culminating in a rocket leap skyward, their heads shaking from side to side in an angry frantic attempt to break free.THe light weight rods would bend double and sometimes the line would break, it's separation like a rifles shot splitting the air.Ocassionally my dad would take out his fly-rod and launch an artifical bug 40 feet back toward a small pocket of water in the brush, the fly landing gently as a real bug might. He would twitch the rod tip slightly giving life to the bait and suddenly the water boiled and exploded and the fight was on!
Lake Berry by day was an inspiring liquid delight but it was the night when the giant large mouth fed,those huge moss backed monsters of the deep that hold honoured places in fishing lore, those storied old lunkers knew every crag and stump--they were 10 14 pounds of fighting fury in the summer of 58.
Many fish were caught some were lost but it didn't take long to realize that this bounty would not last foreever so we began to release them to fight another day.
We fished Lake Berry up untill the early 60's and I remember seeing the dark long winged U2 surveillance aircraft fly over the lake, back from some secret mission. Central Florida and the world were changing at a rapid pace. Jungled pristine shores have been replaced by manicured yards occupied by wood and masonry and glass, on the lakes of my childhood. Fertilizers and chemicals mix with the waters, once deep aquatic holes rise toward the sky on ladders of silt and population and progress premature the aging process.
The ten pounders of my memories are much harder to find,and the pristine Lake Berrys of the world may only be read about--I'm glad I have mine to remember. Eric