Strong troll for the Atheists among us, great read and a fantastic message to all: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
Be prepared, be kind, be respectful of Mother Nature, help don’t harm your fellow man.
I agree with Cody: Report of the Year!
Condolences to you and your family!
I was waiting for "and then the alarm clock went off and the nightmare was over" but it never came.
My condolences for the loss of your father.
Let's raise a few more shots o' Jack to your dad!
Thank you for this LJ
Sorry for your loss
PS I was calling you into a wide open bite and a warm Haggis sandwich
That is what you do for a friend
Those are a couple great pics of your dad sorry for your loss LJ!I was really nervous when I created this thread. I felt lead and did it in faith. Was very pleased with the overall reaction.
Thanks for the condolences Cory, Mike (Kinison) Willdoggy and others. I very much appreciate the kind words.
There are some cool guys on BD Outdoors. Even the guys I don’t agree with, I still appreciate because their passionate about the activity we love, Salt Water Fishing.
Since I haven’t been able to fish much this summer due to Dad’s passing and now helping Mom, I thought I’d write a short story which turned out to be a long one; hoping I could get some folks to think about others and not only themselves. Story was inspired by the way Dad treated others both on and off the water. He was the “salt of the earth, sea”. He taught me a lot, mainly by his actions.
Reflecting over my fishing days with many folks young and old, I realize most guys who are lucky enough to reach old age, don’t fish till the end. The body starts breaking down; even though the spirit is willing, the body is weak. (balance and strength are needed)
GUYS, fish your asses off while time allows. I wish you the best and be NICE to our fellow enthusiast’s.
Dad did catch the big one he always wanted right after retiring. I thought I’d post it for him since he never would have done it himself.
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I believe this may be the picture of the battle. Not sure what Penn International this is and if it’s capable of a #210 YF. Pole looks seriously loaded.
Happy Labors Day to the skilled craftsman. Thank you for your service.
Between Pop and I, we worked with our hands, setting tile for combined 66 years between us before we went on to supportive/related jobs.
,This is about a 15-20 minute read. Sorry I'm not a writer.
Hell, I read the Western Outdoor News. They were talking Dorado out of Dana Point. You know how the Wifey likes her Dodo’s. I had to go, be a hero, get lucky with her later after I got lucky today.
Left home at 2:00 am and got down to Embarcadero Landing in DP about 4:30am. There was already a line. Four rigs in front of me waiting to see the gate lift and get in. It was finally my turn (same feeling I get when my name is called from a Sizzler waiting list). Past the gate then snuck around a few rigs who had gotten in before me. Score!
I quickly backed up real nice and stopped about 10’ from the water. Time to get my shit together. I proceed to affix dock lines, unhook the skiff, lower the motor, and oh no, where’s my drain plug? I crawl into the skiff and I look everywhere I possibly can with my only light, an Apple super-duper iPhone. Five minutes goes by and I finally find the plug; in the ice chest, go figure. Stick the plug in and off we go. Wait, I need some fresh frozen squid from DP Landing. I meander over to DP Landing. Unfortunately for me there is a huge check in line for the Catalina fishing trip. Ahh, I can wait, hell my skiff is in pole position.
Got the bait, tossed it in the ice chest and off. “What the hell”, why are those guys giving me a stink eye. I was only ten minutes at the Landing. Whatever, I’m not going to let that ruin my day. After about five minutes I finally get the old girl (motor) to go. As I pull away from the dock, “Whoo Hoo” I shout, just to let everyone know I beat them out.
Finally underway. Looks like I have about an hour before light, cool! As I am cruising along, I realize my running lights aren’t working. Time to work on those bad boys in the middle of the channel. I’m going to be smart about this and set the hook since there seems to be a light breeze that could make it unsafe for me. As I am diligently working on the problem a few boats pass around me. Surprise that not one person asked me if I needed help, people suck. I jiggled around all the fuses I could get my hands on and just like magic, lights are on. Cool!
Now I’m underway. As I pass by the bait receiver I remember, the line on my reels is a little fouled up from the last year’s trip. It’s dark, I can peel off a couple hundred yards of line in the harbor and no one will know. Boy this is going to be a great day for me!
The first spool of line was straightened before I even turn left to get out of the harbor. I have time to feed another couple hundred yards of line once again, cause I’m bad ass fast. I let it all out as smooth as silk and now I’m ready to reel the line in just in time to clear the break wall. As I am reeling like a mad dog, I got hit! My line is peeling off the Penn 113W as fast as a 100 lb. BFT would. “I’M ON”, I yell. Then I dawns on me, I neither had a hook or bait fastened to the line I just let out. Oh NOOO, MY line is being gobbled up by that dumbass Sportfisher’s prop behind me. I lock the reel in gear and yanked, but the pole yank back, hard to. It was going to be me and the pole, or just the pole.
With one less rig I continued, feeling a heavy heart for the loss on my fishing gear. Wonder how it worked out for that Sportfisher behind me? Oh well, lesson learned.
Next thing on the agenda was catching bait for this fine day of paddy poaching. Lucky me, boats were all lined up around the green buoy at the point. Easy Pickens. I blaze out and through the six boats gently drifting the area, looking for a bent pole. After zig zagging through the lot, I see a nice Sportfisher boat named, “Do Unto Others . . .” with lights on and anchored, (what a silly name I thought). Those poles were bent, and I see bait coming over the rail. Time to set up in their chum line. After all, GOD helps those who help themselves, it’s written in the bible, isn’t it?
Started out snagging about 50 yards behind six pack on the drift. Nothing. After 1 minute of waiting and not catching anything, I decided to creep up a little. Ahh, started to see bait on the meter. When I finally looked up to see my where I was, it was a super bright. Fudge, good thing I looked up when I did. Did they reset? Again, another group of angry anglers yelling at me. Fishing is supposed to be relaxing, why are people SOOO uptight?
After ignoring the severe tongue lashing by the crew yelling, “safety this and safety that”, I backed off about 10 yards and proceeded to catch some very good Mackerel. I did have to keep reminding the anglers to throw out more chum. Your welcome!
I think it was about 5:45 and gray light when I headed out after showing those guys how to catch bait. Since I had been up since 12:00 am and it had been six hours of being awake; petty much like 12:00 noon to me, I decided to crack my first Corona for a celebration. “psuh”. I was feeling very good about overcoming all the adversities presented to me so far, it was time to “Find boats, I mean paddies”.
As I headed offshore I saw a few other boats heading out from the DP Harbor in a hot rush. They were much larger vessels, so I couldn’t keep up. Not worried, there are plenty o fish (boats) in the sea. I figured I’d back it off a bit, saving some gas, and let everyone get settled in. This, being the weekend would be everyman for himself and opportunities for seeing the boats later would be exceptional. I love working together.
I had to go about 6 miles before seeing the first boat at a stop. I throw the skiff in high gear and make a beeline to the unsuspecting anglers. What? I see them pulling away. No problem, I checked to compass for a bearing when I first saw them. Ha Hah. I pull up to my first paddy, circled around five times looking for signs of life below, since my fish finder doesn’t work in deep water. Looked barren with the naked eye, so I put on my BassPro polarized glasses. Wait, what do I see, “Mola”, oh happy day. I quickly tied on a heavy jig and go into snag mode. Second try, hook up and it’s off to the races! After a steady 3 minutes of ZZZZZZ, Zing Pow! my 25 lb. rig is spooled. Damned, that thing had to be a good 300 lbs. That was fun, can’t wait to tell my fishing buddies about “the one that got away”. What a great start, time for another cold one. “psuh”.
I keep heading out looking for more opportunities to, git ur done. After three more miles I still haven’t seen a single boat. Time to set the trollers out. My preference is the cedar plug daisy chains. Continuing on at a nice 15 mph clip, plugs skipping across the water, I finally see the cluster of boats I was looking for. I step it up to wide open, 25 mph. The excitement is killing me. As I approach it’s plain to see poles bent in all but one of the five boats. “IT’S WIDE OPEN? I yell when within ear shot of the happy anglers. Boy are these guys going to be impressed, I’m thinking. When I’m about a football field away, appearing to be going right by, I turn hard to port and then thread the needle. I toss by empty brewski into the drink and yell “Game On!”. Waste bait will you, not me, at least not on a paddy that is WIDE. Nailed it, right through the middle of the action. Instantly, “HOOK UP!”, I yell. A fricking double! ZZZZZZ. As I look back, everyone’s arm is lifted high in the air cheering me on. Most likely I won’t even have to create a thread on BD telling of this amazing display of innovation. As I slow down the skiff, it’s decision time, which pole to grab first. I finally come to a stop and so do the clickers. What no ZZZZZZ? What is that all about and what is that bleating in my ears? Oh shit, I think I’ve got the salad part of dinner. Guess I should move on to a more prosperous paddy. Screw recovering the daisy chains. I cut the both lines and I’m back underway. Lesson learned. I reach into the cooler, “psuh”.
OK, a fresh start again. There have been some gear casualties, however I still have plenty left to get the job done, including my “fail-safe” in my back pocket. Since I am about 12 miles out I decide to parallel the coastline and head south, I think. It’s hard to tell sometimes without a GPS.
It takes about an hour before I spot my next paddy, I mean boats, approximately 2 miles ahead to my starboard. I change direction and put her in high gear. As I’m blazing forward I notice a plane circling above and around this cluster of boats. “The Holy Grail?”. Now the throttle is pinned. Finally, when I can make out the anglers, I see the center boat with a stocky older man bent, the other boats seem to be watching him; no poles, cameras? It’s a video shoot. What? This dude is yelling his ass off as this Bull Dorado is doing acrobatics. As I get closer I realize I have seen this guy before. It’s fricking Hardcore!! He’s shooting another video, this time with a video production crew and a spotter plane. As I am watching Hardcor, he stops reeling with his right hand and raises it up. I don’t know if that’s a fist or he’s waving me in. Not wanting to take a chance that it was a first, I proceed. Thirsty, “psuh”. I toss the empty libation container overboard and begin a new one.
I continued from paddy (boat) to paddy (boat). Unfortunately most paddies were dry or the Dodo’s had lock jaw. I gave every stop a solid effort; a one cast mackerel offering. While fishing the paddies, I did see other boats poaching. I’m really surprised by the way other boaters who go SOOO Slow when approaching a paddy. They must not be very good at maneuvering their boats like I can in the skiff. Hah!
In course of the day my my journey south, I think, I see a couple guys I recognized from their “Thread” pictures on BD; I spotted cortezpirasea by the nice panga he was cruising in. When I came close, he grinned and held up two keeper halibut he said he caught off a paddy. I also saw another boat that looked like it was way too low to the water for its size. When I got close enough to see in the boat, I realized the boat was stuffed with BFT and ice on the deck, blood everywhere. He nodded, then kicked the boat into high gear. That was longboard85. I also saw a tricked out fishing boat on a paddy with a drone flying overhead. As I proceeded to close in, I was attacked by the drone with a video camera. After a closer view I realized it was sueno. Don’t post that please. (I was throwing my empties at the drone). I also past by zika and his son who were on a good bite, he was easy to recognize by the boat. Looks just like the one our family had back in the day with the nice sturdy V hull. The guy that was very easiest to recognize was mhanson59hb. He and Sean were working a paddy and waved me in. He said this paddy had Dodo’s with lock jaw, however they were going to wait it out or figure it out. I saw a kitchen sink in the boat. He did hold up some nice YT’s they caught and offered me a shot of “Jack” for my journey. I gladly accepted his offer.
Needing to mellow out that hit of “Jack”. I open another Corona, “psuh”. “Gulp, Ahhh”.
It appears to be “crunch time”. It’s getting late and I need something to happen and quick. The Wifey isn’t going to let me go fishing next year if I don’t bring back some Dodo’s. Again, I’m in hot pursuit of boats, I mean paddies. Full speed ahead, south I think. Finally, I see a nice Sportfisher to my starboard, stopped. As I’m approaching, I see everyone aboard with their arms extended straight out and waving down, repeatedly and quickly as they looked my way. That’s a weird way to say howdy, I return the gesture as I make my way to the paddy. Watch this action guys. I’ll cut the motor just in time to cruise right up to the paddy. I was a little off on my calculation and ended up plowing right over the paddy to an engine stall. “Whoops” I chuckled as I looked back and saw the shreds of kelp pieces in my wake. Just like a food processer I thought. Surprisingly when I looked up at the Sportfisher, a couple of those guys were laughing as well.
As I was baiting up a live Mackerel, I looked at the boat again and was pleasantly surprised to see two fish hanging and one of the Dorados was putting on quite an acrobatic show. Sweet! I toss out my offering and after a minute, nothing. I reel in and change baits, then cast as far as I can near the other boat. Another minute goes by and still nothing. While retrieving my Mackerel I feel a little tension on the line. YES! I take a full swing and wind like hell. Pole’s bent nicely and she’s coming straight in. (must have turned the Dodo’s head and it’s swimming towards me). I can tell by my line direction I’m going to see color soon, so I grab the gaff. At the end on my line/hook I see a bunch of fricken spectra. Damned, one of those guys must have crossed my line.
Like I said before, it is “crunch time” and I am tired of all the bull crap I’ve had to put up with. Time for the “fail-safe”, so I pull it out. Mask, snorkel and a Hawaiian sling. Being that I’m solo and very safety minded, I figure it might be a good idea to affix a strip of the remaining kelp paddy to my skiff before taking the plunge. That should hold her there. “Kerplunk”, I’m in the drink. Speaking of drink, I can really feel those beers and the “Jack” shot Kinison gave me. Water is warm and clear. This will be a “piece of cake”. My first look under water revealed several Bull Dorados circling the area. After chasing my future meal around as fast as I could swim for five minutes, I was fully exhausted. When I started chasing these allusive fish there was around thirty or so, by the time I was done there was only one left. Darn those Dodo’s spook easy.
After I struggled to get into the skiff, I noticed the Sportfisher has drifted away. It appeared that they were getting ready for a move. I was feeling a little defeated, the thought of the long trip back to DP Harbor followed by the lengthy three hour drive home was making me tired. I turned the key, she fired up, then died. Again, same thing. Shit! Another time, repeat. I look up and the Sportfishing is starting to move. “Oh No”. I pull out my emergency air horn and start blasting it. After a few seconds I get their attention and they start circling back. The guy driving the boat asks, “What’s the problem?”. “Not sure”. I pull up on the two gas tanks to feel the fuel. “Their empty I guess”. “Well, you have a radio and Boat US?” “Do what”, “I have an Apple super-duper iPhone . . . but no bars”. “Where did you head out of?” “Dana”. The skipper turns to the group of anglers, “Guy’s, you want to wait till BoatUS gets here, or tow?” The skipper reaches into a compartment on deck and pulls out a rope. Looked a lot like the ones we used for waterskiing. One rope hooked on to the two rear cleats, the other rope had a pulley attached to the first rope and a clip to attach to my bow eyelet. “You want bottled water for the ride back, it’s about 20 miles?” (Holy crap, I have to wait 2 hours before were back in, this sucks). “Sure, I’d like a water, I’m out of beer”. Off we go.
I felt really weird being towed behind this million dollar boat with people looking at me. I kept my eyes to the stern, at least till it’s boring for them to watch my pitiful ass. About twenty minutes in, I take a look ahead. Everyone is seated or in the wheelhouse. Hmmm, I notice the name of the boat. “Do Unto Others . . . “. (what a dumb name for a boat, I thought). Next time I looked forward, I saw the cutting board out and Dorado being fileted. “Why not ME?”, I mumble. I put in more effort than these guys. More effort than anyone I saw today, paddy pouching. “I deserved something”.
Two hours and eight minutes later we pull into DP Harbor. Everyone I see on the way in is starring at me being towed, including the festive group I’m attached to. Nowhere to hide. It seemed like the ride in from the harbor mouth to the dock was half as long as the overall ride in.
The skipper slowed the million dollar boat down, swung the stern in at the tip of the dock and a guy hopped off holding the ropes that were disconnected from the cleats. Smooth, I thought. He proceeded to pull me into the dock. I hopped off to the dock and disconnected the tow line and pulled the skiff to the closest spot to the pavement for easy extraction. No one will try to launch with my skiff in pole position. Time for beer, what a day. As I’m leaving the dock making beeline to “Turks”, I hear the guy who hopped off the Sportfisher and helped me calling. I look back and he’s waving. I wave back, “Oh ya, thanks”.
I go into Turks Bar, and it’s almost empty. I hop on a barstool and order, “Stella”. “psuh”, my heart flutters. “AHHH”, as the cool nectar slides down my parched throat. A few minutes later a guy sits down next to me. This may not be so bad. I can vent to this guy, tell him about my rotten day, Yah. The guy introduces himself as John then orders a beer from the bartender. John starts off the conversation by telling me he’s local and comes to Turks on Saturday afternoons to socialize. My first thought is, socialize, why? He continued to tell me about all the cool people he meets passing through D P on vacation who stop by the pub. Whatever. John asks,” How was your day, fish?” Finally, my turn. I break into a recap of this terrible day starting with; My running lights going out; Loosing a prize fishing pole; getting spooled; loosing two hand made daisy chains; not catching Dodo’s; running out of gas and having to be towed for ficking two hours. “Sorry, sounds like a day to remember”. “Back in one piece though”. John smiles. “How’d you get in?” “Ah shit, two hours”, “Really? Boat US?” “Nah, some guy happened by the last paddy I found, I waved him in”. “When he found out about me being out of gas, caught all those Dorado on the paddy I found, I guess he felt obligated to give me a tow”. “What was the name of the boat?” “Idonno, wait it had a stupid name, oh ya, Do Unto Others . . .” “No kidding, Joshua”. This guy knows the skipper? “Good guy, he comes in here once and awhile, so he was the one that towed you?” “Yes” John gets a big grin on his face. For five torturous minutes John tells me about how Joshua tows in boats regularly; takes handicap kids on the boat to fish; does harbor cruises with elderly folks. “Joshua would give you the shirt off his back”. After listening for too long, I’m bored and jealous because I don’t have a million dollar boat to catch fish. “That’s nice, what’s with the lame name for the boat?”. “Lame name?” “Yes, Do Unto Others . . . ?” “You don’t know where that comes from?”. “Noooo”. “That’s from the Good Book”. “Oh, Luke” “Luke who?” “Here, I’ll write in down the verse on the napkin, look it up later in the bible”. I stuff the piece of paper in my pocket, realize what time it is, and say my farewell to John. Time to get on the road. There ‘s at least a three hour journey ahead of me before I’m home.
When I get back to the launch, my skiff has been moved to the end on the ramp. Bastards! I lost pole position. Some folks have zero patience. (I need the pole position. I have to hand line the skiff onto the trailer from the dock, it’s impossible to drive on the skiff from between the docks on to the trailer). People suck. After waiting ten minutes for the boats to clear in front of me, I finally get the skiff trailered. I pull out of the water 10 feet, then prepare for the long journey home. Putting away the dock lines, lifting the motor, pulling the drain plug, then transferring other gear into the truck that may blow out of the skiff on the trip home. After five minutes, I’m off.
Ride home was uneventful. While driving I thought about all the bad luck I had on the water. How I was the “victim”, (not even sure if I’m going to make the trip next year).
Finally home, 8:30pm. I back up to the upper garage where I keep my classic cars and off-road vehicles. Too late to clean the skiff, just need to unload some stuff into the garage. I lift the last item, the ice chest. Great, have to face Whifey, Shit. I see her coming up the road to the garage about a football field away, running. “Catch anything?”, I hear her calling. I started to lift the ice chest out of the skiff. (why does it feel so heavy?) Right then she makes it to the skiff. “Whatcha got, let me see?”. I drop the chest to the ground, heavy. Whifey yanks the lid up. “DODO’S!!”. What the hell! ”DODO’S?” I mean, “DODO’S!!!” “Ya, had a pretty good day. Showed the rest of the boys out there today how to “git ur done, solo”. Big hug and a kiss. “You managed to filet a few and keep on hole Dodo for me to see, You’re the best”. “I thought you were going to ask me to cut em up as usual”. “Go on in the house, I’ll be there soon”.
I’m stunned and without speech. What happened? I had no Dodo’s, now Dodo’s? I enter the house. “Go and take off those old those stinky clothes. You have to have fish blood all over them judging by the amount of fish you killed today, sweetheart”. I turn on the shower and tear off the fishing clothes. As I empty my pockets, I see the crumpled napkin from Turks. “Luke 6:31”, it reads. “Honey, we got a bible?” “Ya, Daddy left me one, you want it, what fir?” “Never you mind, just get it”. Whifey delivers. I scroll through the dusty book for a minute or so, there it is LUKE, now I just have to figure out this numbering system. When I spot the exact number, I see that it is at the end of the paragraph. Hell, I should read the whole thing, to see what’s before. I read . . .
Luke: 6:27 “But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28 bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. 29 If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them. 30 Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. 31 Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
I read the words of Luke again, and then step into the warm shower. Guy who wrote that must be a little guy. That’s the only way you can validate that kind of talk. You’ve got to stand up for yourself, damned it! My thoughts went back to the mystery Dodo’s in the ice chest. It happened at the dock. Do you think? nahh. Maybe. It’s starting to make sense, the pieces are coming together. “Do Unto others . . .” “As you would have them do unto you”. Those guys filled my ice chest. Probably the ones who moved my skiff at the launch. They wanted to make sure others could pick up and launch their boats. But why, I didn’t really even thank the guys on the boat or Joshua. Maybe there is something to this, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”. “That I may be able to do, but the first part of this paragraph, most likely not.
Shout out to my dad!
Leonard Emanuel Odum Jr. January 20, 1939 – July 9, 2018
Might want to take time and read the rest of the story before you start throwing out insults!!It's been bugging me, so I'm going to say it.
I stop reading after you said about letting all your line out in the bay. You know all that line caught in my props on my sportfisher causes damage and money to remove or repair?!
Please be more respectful/responsible and let your line out in the open ocean, dumbass.