Excerpts from Jug Fishing for Greazy
from pg. 7
Jug Fishing for Greazy
There are fish and there are legends. What is it about the one that
won’t be caught? The proverbial one that got away? Every time an angler
tells the story, the legend grows—along with a fisherman’s
determination to finally one day scoop it into his net.
Kelley Lovelace, my friend and songwriting partner, has taken me on
some great trips to Sand Mountain, Alabama, where his wife’s parents
live. Before we went up there the first time, Kelley told me all about
the hybrid catfish that live in the two-acre pond on their land. He
said there were only seven in the whole pond. Kelley’s father-in-law,
Dub, told him he knew there were only seven because since they were
hybrids, they couldn’t reproduce. Evidently, these fish were just huge.
We decided there was only one thing to do: bring out the jugs.
We planned to spend the whole weekend fishing, so we came prepared. We
brought milk jugs, water jugs, and a couple of two-liter Pepsi bottles,
too. The idea was to take the jugs, run=2
0the lines down from them, and
put chicken liver on hooks for bait. Then, if one of those huge fish
tried to take the liver, it would set the hook on itself because it
wouldn’t be able to pull the jug down under the water.
So we got up at daybreak and loaded up Kelley’s in-laws’ little John
boat. Then we motored out and set up our jugs on one end of the pond.
We figured it might take a while for something to hit one of the jugs,
so we decided to drive to the other end of the pond to fish for bass.
I ran the trolling motor. It didn’t go very fast, so we took our time
making our way to the other side of the pond. We found a place to stop,
got set up and started fishing. Well, it couldn’t have been longer than
ten minutes before we heard this huge splash. I turned and saw one of
the jugs popping back up after it had been pulled away down under the
water.
I looked over at Kelley and whispered, “Did you see that?” He said that
my eyes were as big as saucers. Then I started hollering at him to reel
in. We reeled in, and I took off toward the jugs. I was giving it all I
had, but his little trolling motor could only go so fast. Man, we
thought we had Moby Dick, or at least the Loch Ness monster on our
hands. There was no way to tell…
from pg. 77
A Fisherman Can Never Lose a Great Fish
The Florida Keys20consists of a little spit of land that divides the
Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico. On either side of it, there is
blue as far as you can see. It’s a fisherman’s paradise.
While driving through the Keys, travelers inevitably hit Islamorada, a
tiny village located about halfway between Miami and Key West. It’s
difficult to miss Islamorada’s famous beacon, Bud N’ Mary’s Marina. The
owner of the marina, Richard Stanczyk, is a man obsessed. Brad can
relate to his obsession.
…It was forty years ago. The day of North Miami High’s Senior Prom.
Richard and his buddies planned to do it right. They all had dates and
no curfew. What could be better?
Richard’s date was Donna, his childhood sweetheart. She was a beautiful
girl. A great catch. But the truth was, Richard wasn’t as excited as
everyone else about the whole prom thing. The only thing he seemed to
get excited about was fishing.
The day of the prom, he woke around eight to a great day. The perfect
fishing day, that is. There was a light wind, blue sky. He only had to
think about it a few seconds before deciding there was plenty of time
to fish, come in early, and still get to the prom. His friends, Jeff
and Tommy, were in agreement.
He called Donna, and she was not pleased. In fact, she thought he had
taken complete leave of his senses. She threatened him with a fate
worse than=2
0death if he wasn’t home by noon.
The guys headed out about five miles, approaching the edge of the Gulf
Stream. The water was deep purple, and there were patches of golden
yellow weeds floating along the edge of a current line. It looked
really good, and it was, for as soon as the baits hit the water, they
were attacked by groups of large dolphin, big bulls with two more cows
with them. They were biting like mad dogs. Soon, they had a boxful of
fish. When things slowed down, Richard put out a different rig, a
swimming mullet, hoping to get the attention of a sailfish.
Right away, something knocked down the bait. Richard locked up the reel
and begin to wind. There was something about this fish. It seemed
really heavy and took off at speeds that made the line seem to melt off
the reel. Richard’s buddies turned the boat around as fast as they
could to get behind the fish.
Finally, the fish settled down, and they began the fight. Luckily,
Richard had a “fighting chair.” (Actually, it was an old lawn chair
with a gimble attached to it). Thirty minutes went by, and they still
hadn’t seen this great fish. Nothing seemed to have any effect on it.
They were at a standoff and being towed to the North. Richard was
beginning to feel the strain of the battle. It was hot, and his
fingers, back, and even his legs were tiring.
Richard describes the frustration and powerlessness=2
0he felt. His mind
went back to the book he read in English class that year, Hemingway’s
The Old Man and the Sea. He said he loved that book. He found it hard
to believe such a fish could exist, even though he knew they did. He
wondered if he had found his Hemingway fish only six miles off the
coast of Miami.
At noon, they had been fighting the fish for two hours. They were at
least ten miles away from where they started. Then something changed.
The fish had been swimming steadily in one direction and what seemed to
be one depth when suddenly Richard felt the speed pick up and the fish
began to jolt hard and heavy, like a handshake…
Three hours into the fight, Jeff broke the silence. “Think we should
break the line?”
They were already past Fort Lauderdale and going north. Jeff pointed
out that if they bailed now they could be home by three and still make
the prom. Richard couldn’t believe he was suggesting such a thing.
Didn’t he realize what this fish meant?
At that point, the sun was really taking its toll on Richard. He says
he felt like the skin was burning right off his body. In those days,
there was no sunscreen, but Jeff came to his aid. He had the great idea
to spread peanut butter on Richard’s face, lips, nose – even his ears.
It helped, but the agony of the battle continued.
After nearly seven hours, the sun was still poundin
g and Richard was
exhausted. This was somewhere he had never been before – a mix of
exhaustion and frustration. Think of the guy in the cartoon crawling
through the desert looking for water. He was snapped back to
consciousness when Tommy asked, “Hey, do we have enough fuel?”…
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