Fishin’ in the Middle
As a youngster a fishing trip with my dad was always a special event, except when my brother was along. My brother was left handed and he had a way of casting a lure like no one I have ever come in contact with! He now lives in Virginia and we have not had the opportunity to fish together in many years, but I have my doubts that it has changed dramatically since our childhood.
I would generally stay “hung up” on something just out of sight below the waters surface and dad’s trip was filled with backing up to retrieve a two dollar bait that he was not willing to part with (although he may have had five in the tackle box identical to it). I looked at it as if, why bother, just snap the line, tie another on and continue along the way. Economics had far less to do with this than the fact that he just couldn’t bear to part with a lure that had probably not been used in many years. You see, he never EVER let us tie on one of his premium lures. That made the situation even more appalling when he would work through three submerged treetops, risking bursting a gaping hole in the fiberglass boat for a hung-up lure.
There was a common protocol established after about the third trip every year. Dad would fish at the front, me in the middle, and my brother in the back of the boat. This was done with much forethought and a lot of reasoning on dad’s part. This brings me back to my brother’s casting technique, which was neither refined nor painless!
During the first trip each year, I would worm my way into the back of the boat. Every fisherman worth his salt knows the prime spot to fish is in the front of the boat, that was dad’s spot without question, but the middle seat was a badge of courage in our family. Generally, we would all fish out of the same side and with a lefty on board this could get very interesting, if not down right dangerous, for anyone fishing beside him. On three distinct occasions, dad had to summon assistance as a treble hook from my wildly casting brother would either snag his hat or far worse, his ear. We are talking so deep in the skin that the barb of the hook went completely through whatever body part it happened to snag!
During a particular trip to Bayou Desiard, or what was commonly referred to in those days as Dead Bayou, my brother kept insisting that dad allow us to take a swim to cool off. It was stagnant hot and very little, if any, breeze was blowing so I kept my mouth shut and let my brother be the pest in the situation, although I assure you it was on my mind as well. My dad would firmly say “No.” But that didn’t discourage him in trying to gain access to the water to cool off. As we fished along the many docks and piers, we would see kids swimming and that just made my brother’s determination stronger. I knew that in the end he would upset the apple cart and there may be consequences neither of us were ready to deal with. I guess since my brother was fishing in the back he felt some comfort in the distance between himself and dad, not realizing that he was setting himself up for a huge surprise at the end of the day.
My brother repeatedly proclaimed, “Man it’s hot, sure would be nice to go for a swim”, “Daddy those kids look like they are having a good time in the water”, “Keith don’t you want to take a swim?” “The fish aren’t biting. Maybe we should just jump in to stir them up”… It was like machine gunfire. I bit my tongue without answering his question, and could see dad’s temples start flexing, which was a good indication he was on the edge of saying more than the usual “NO”.
As we started motoring back, my brother kept insisting he wanted to go swimming. As we approached the landing, without notice, the engine died some 200 yards away. Dad requested that I get out of the way so he could look at it to figure out what the problem was. As he maneuvered past me I noticed that the kill switch was not connected and just as I was about to relay that information, he grabbed my brother by the pants and heaved him over board! He informed him, “Now you can swim.” I burst out laughing. Wrong response! He then threw me out as well, replaced the kill switch, cranked the motor, and off he went. We were left to swim the remainder of the way; all I could think about was an alligator making his evening meal on us. You wouldn’t believe how efficiently we managed to get to the bank! I wouldn’t’ trade that day for all the gold in the world and would give just about anything to have the chance to relive it, even fishin’ in the middle.
© Keith Skinner - 2005 - All Rights Reserved - Originally Published in Louisiana Road Trips Magazine