Another season’s end
Hey folks. How you doing? Better than me, I guarantee.
You know, I’ve seen about a gazillion people lose everything under the sun off the wharf. I sometimes wish I was a scuba diver just to go underwater long enough to collect all the stuff down there.
Here’s a funny story: In his olden days, my old fishing pal Randy was sometimes a small-time crook. Nothing major, you understand, and it’s been over seven years so I can speak of it with no troubles for anybody. Well anyways, he went to the market and walked out with five cases of ice-cold beverages. He got spotted and next thing, sure enough, there’s two black-and-whites coming after the perp (that’s cop talk).
So he’s got nothin’ to do but toss all five cases overboard. Funny part was, we happen to be fishing the same spot the next day, and sure ’nuff I run into a couple of scuba guys I knew. So we split the beers, give ’em half as a reward.
Ever since that happened it’s always made me wonder just what I’d find if I happened to look down there. Probably mostly rust. You know, steel turns into rust quickly. But it’s food for thought, ain’t it? I was thinking about dragging the bottom with a magnet, but why bother? Anything of value will not hit a magnet. Hell, not even copper.
By the way, while I’m on the subject, I heard that the end of the pier at B&M Baked Beans was a secret submarine pen during WWII. Boy, I’d love to nose around down there! Of course, the government would be able to hide any evidence of such a thing. But still, I think investigation wouldn’t be out of the question. Who knows what else a person could find just poking around?
I do know one thing you could find for sure: mollusks. Christ, so many times I thought I had something great — you know, the biggest stripers you could find — and it turns out to be a big chunk of whelks. I’ve yet to meet a human to have ever eaten one. They look like clams, and I guess if you was on a desert island starving and that’s all you had, you’d kind of have to eat some. Yuck!
You know what else you’d be guaranteed to find? My fishing pole. I talked about that in last month’s column. Just as little as a couple of years ago I’d have gone in after it. I’ve never had fear of the ocean. I wouldn’t have cared how deep the damn thing went. I would have gone in and grabbed it before it even hit bottom.
Hell, as kids we had no other place to swim. I’m probably lucky to be alive to write this — not from any sea creatures, but human junk and waste. I knew a couple of lads that once lost a dump truck in the ocean. Yessiree. I don’t know if it’s still there or not.
You know, if it wasn’t for my pal Randy crashing out on Sebago Lake, I wouldn’t have any fish to eat at all. He’s just dropped off another sack of trouts he got out of the lake. I do believe next year that’s where I’ll be at. I ain’t got a goddamn fish now again this year. It’s like my buddy Jim says: “There’s tons of pu___ out there, it’s just impossible to pick ’em up.” I don’t believe in the Loch Ness Monster, and I definitely don’t go with no such a thing as a bigfoot. Or UFOs. Lately I’ve been having a real hard time believing in mackerels.
Ain’t it funny how your mind can drift while you’re sitting around waiting to catch Charlie the Tuna? I almost think it should be a law that all folks must go down the pier and spend some time, just meditating. The world would be a much better place.
Me and Randy did one last fish expedition the other day ’fore the cold got too much. Soon as we got there, there’s Mr. Seal. I didn’t even bother to put in my line. I knew it was hopeless. So I just watched Randy. And all he gets — sure enough, a goddamn seagull trying to take the bait.
So he’s fightin’ with this frantic gull, and I look for some piece of wood to try and pry his mouth open. All the sudden he goes, forget it. The gull worked his way off. Funny thing was, somehow in his mouth he managed to completely straighten out the fish hook. Didn’t hurt him in the least.
Unfortunately, that was likely how we closed the season, what little there was. Randy says the water up Sebago is like real low, lower than he’s ever seen, so no more lake fish either.
Well, the way the weather’s looking, I might be able to squeeze in one more column. It looks like another rough winter ahead. Talk about pirates perhaps. I’d also love to do a piece about what happened on New Year’s Eve 1899. You’ll have to pick up a script to see what I mean.
