Fishing with Pappy page 4

Volume 1, page 4 - previous
Heartbreak Bridge One of the closest places to get a line in the water for ol' Pappy is along a stretch called Sandsound Causeway here in the little township called Palm Harbor in Tampa Bay. It's path leads to a hear-tell wondrous fishing place called Beeluna Island, which Pappy plans to visit soon, however it's located in a State Park which shutters access at nightfall, and Pappy wanted to go night fishing, so along the way there are two bridges with some parking access by the beach before the seawalls. Me daughter and I have fished these bridges exhaustively, catching every species of bait stealing junk fish this part the Atlantic Ocean provides; pinfish, puffers, toadfish, lizard fish, you name it, we've lost bait to it. We have also suffered rain and bitter cold and brutal wind gusts that chill ye to the bone blowing under the bridge. Add to this the times we've gone home with the Skunky Monkey and you get a place we now call Heartbreak Bridge. Doesn't even matter which of the two bridges it is, they both will stomp on yer pumper from time to time. So, I'm tellin' ya this story to tell about last night, getting a call from me flat-headed fishin' chum, Cap'n Will just as the Sun's disappearing to give the other side of the world a turn. he say's, "I'm bored enough to put up with your nonsense and gibberish. I got two cousins in tow. Heartbreak Bridge. I'll pick you up in 10 minutes." Pappy knows that means it's fishin' time, and rarely says no. Pappy also knows they need me, 'cause I have all the stuff to fish in every situation, including night time, all in me trusty fishin' bag. light as a feather it is... a 75 pound feather from a very large bird. Pappy sure would like to get at one of the eggs from that bird, I'll say. Love eggs. Anyway, I digest... It's a chilly night, enough to make your breath look like you're vaping. I hate to be cold when fishin' so Pappy doubles up on everything, shirt, pants, socks... If i had a pair o'shoes big enough I'd double up that, too. Put on the brand new gaiter around me neck. If you're unfamiliar with this useful piece of fishing adornment, it's a cylinder of stretchy cloth that you pull over your head and wear several different ways. Just on your neck it protects from exposure to the sun, but can also be worn over your face and ears or even your head, for extra ward against the wind and sun. After collecting all me stuff, including the Penn Battle combo I always use, and getting picked up, we were on our way to Heartbreak Bridge. The two Cousins were young men, and very courteous to an old man, allowing me to sit in the front seat with ol' Cap'n Clumsy at the wheel. "Hey guys, " he says to the two gentlemen, "This is Pappy... don't look him in the eye, don't stand near him, and whatever you do, don't talk to him." "Why is that?" Asked Cousins Joe and Luke, smiling. "Because he might like you. Then he won't shut his pie hole." Cap'n Will and me went back and forth basically telling each other 'f* you' in different ways... got some f* you bait, stopped to f* you take a piss, f* you parked, and got to do some f*** you fishin.' To explain the relationship between Cap'n Will and ol' Pappy, he is my kids' Step-Dad and he loves them and takes wonderful care of them, so Pappy takes care of those that takes care of his, if you follow. But that doesn't mean I have to grin and be happy that his fishin' line always finds someone else's, and he won't listen when I try to teach him how to tie a cinch knot. I mean, the name of the knot is cinch, like it's a cinch to learn, right? Oh for Pete's sake. ~Continued on right	~Continued from left We arrive, park close, and the first job is always to recon the sight. As much as Pappy loves to fish, I won't impose my presence and line on another fisherperson's happy personal space, proper fishing protocol. Not everyone follows it, but Pappy isn't moved by the workings and machinations of selfish people. Turns out the two best spots along the seawall were taken, but a young couple with a grand position, and lovely disposition, were packing their stuff up and getting to leavin'. "Hellooo." I called out. "Any luck?" the default script for greeting other fisher-folk. "Nah." Says the young man, sadly, as he put two buckets together in a stack. "You guys packing up?" I asked, hopefully, but not too hopefully, as I didn't wish to step on the young man's self-esteem any more than a tough night of fishing already had. "yeah." Says the lad. Some voice inside me hoped he wasn't fishing for food. I would with honor and gladness fish for another's belly given the chance, but it was cold, and they were heading home, and maybe, just maybe Pappy's a little too dramatic at times. "Then I'll round up my crew and get our lines in the water, since you guys are done." "Best of luck." he says, defeated. "Hope you guys do better than us." "Heartbreak Bridge, we call it." says I, sympathetic to his beaten demeanor, and they departed. I was gladdened when i saw they were driving a nice vehicle. Surely they would find another source of foodstuffs. Night Bobber Fishing The two lads and Cap'n Will all were rigged up to drop-fish the bottom with our splendid array of living shrimp. I know this area too well, and the bottom can be unforgiving to tackle and wallet, so I chose to use a special bobber that supports a tiny glow stick. Hard to lose tackle when you fish with a bobber, unless you pitch it into barnacles that shear line, or onto the bridge itself. If i did that, it wouldn't be the first time, though. The night bobber with the glow stick is visible for hundreds of feet in the night water, very cool to witness. Bobber fishing is fun, watching the thing intently for the tell-tale disappearing act that signals a hungry fish, and this is enhanced when the only thing you see is the glowstick, moving at the whim of the tide and waves. The three bottom rigs produced a lot of hits but only one toadfish, sadly. We saw what may have been a small shark jump and shear Cousin Joe's 50# braid above the leader, and had other near misses but Heartbreak Bridge doesn't give, it takes. It takes tackle, bait, and hope. But that's where Pappy comes in. "FISH ON!" I yell. It's already pretty close to the seawall, having hit the shrimp on the slow retrieve. I already knew the hit was coming even before the glowstick disappeared under the black waves, by the tapping on the line. "Trout." I exclaim, proudly. It was small but still, I took a game fish from Heartbreak Bridge. Then another, close to a keeper, but shy maybe two inches, and even a third, that hit the shrimp so softly and was so small that i didn't know i had it. "That's 3, Cap'n." I yelled to Cap'n Pullthebaitoutthemouth. "Three zip, Pappy!" "Hey Pappy," The Cap'n said, "F*** you." Music to me ears. ~end
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