A week on the water worth remembering

Remember the old song “Mama said”?

“Mama said there’d be days like this, Mama said...”

I don’t know about y’all, but I guarantee that song will be in my head for the foreseeable future. Mama didn’t say I would have back-to-back-to-back days where it seemed all the planets aligned just right, the karma was flowing and the fishing was off-the-chart great.

As you may know, I part-time guide folks in their boats, whether it’s fishing, learning our waters or any other request. This past week. I did something I rarely do — I went four times.

When I started doing this, I didn’t want to it to be a full-time job because graphic design and advertising is my true occupation. Probably more importantly, if I were to make this an everyday gig, I feared I would lose my love of the ocean. Secondly, I am no spring chicken and a full day on the water is hard work, especially with a back full of rods, metal plates and wires.

So why do I do it? I love teaching folks whatever and if done right, most all of them will walk away with a love and respect for the ocean that will never fade. That is way more important to me than, let’s say, how many fish we catch.

My marathon week started with Bass Pro Shop’s president, Jim Hagale, and his wife, Mary Martha. A regular of mine, the Hagales are building a house at Palmetto Bluff and, when they come to town, they usually want to get out on the water. Jim loves the outdoors, but it’s Mary Martha that absolutely loves to fish.

Having spent more time offshore of late, I was a bit nervous about taking them inshore fishing since I really had no idea what was biting or where. Taking a shot in the dark, I decided to give trout and sheepshead a try. The tides were not quite ideal and, after a bit of trying for sheepshead with no luck at all, I suggested we try for trout.

From the moment I switched rigs, it was a trout-o-rama. There is something about watching a cork go under and, putting it bluntly, the cork was under the water more than it was on top!

Both Jim and Mary Martha had smiles a mile wide because, not only were there lots of trout, some were absolute pigs — gator trout for sure! But even if we didn’t catch a single fish, the Hagales are all about learning the story of this area.

A perfect example was after hauling trout, I took them to Daufuskie Island for lunch. They had never had deviled crab, and the laid-back atmosphere there had Jim grinning like a mule eating briars. For a while at least, the ocean and our lunch excursion took him away from the stress of his massive job.

When I see that, it makes me love what I do.

Two days later, I guided for a friend and his 16-year-old nephew named Storm, visiting from California. I am still laughing about that trip and I guarantee Storm went home with mixed thoughts about that weird guide in S.C.

I love taking young’uns fishing because, behind my wrinkled appearance, I am more of a kid than most any kid around. He caught sheepshead, redfish, trout and big black drum, but it was the end of the trip that has me chuckling.

I went up a small creek that has a couple of homes whose homeowners hate for boats to anchor behind them. One of the homeowners had an ingenious way of discouraging anglers from anchoring, and that was putting a speaker blaring heavy (and I mean heavy) metal music right on the edge of the creek.

I found it amusing and it wasn’t until a boatload of old farts (like myself) dropped anchor that I saw the beauty of this creative deterrent. At most, they were there for five minutes before they bolted. As they were leaving, I screamed “More Metallica, more AC/DC!”

Lord, it was funny. Told you I was a kid.

Lastly, I went with Grant Kaple, Will Thompson and Larry Watts in the “Wahoo ShootOut” tournament. Up at 2 a.m. and not back until dusk, I am still recovering. We headed to a spot around 70 miles out that had done well a week or so ago and, in the first hour of fishing, it paid off with a nice 62-pound wahoo.

Almost immediately after boating that fish, one dark cloud parked right over us. When I say one cloud, I mean it because on the radar it was the only cloud for miles. A fine mist started, very tolerable but, in a matter of minutes, two waterspouts dropped.

One dissipated but the other grew larger and larger, shooting water a great distance at the bottom. If that weren’t enough, vertical rain with droplets the size of marbles made the scene even more ominous.

That cloud just stayed in one place, and that was where I wanted to fish. It was like Neptune was there saying, “Not here, boys.”

It was our only wahoo of the day and, had we been able to stay in my spot, I am pretty certain the day would have seemed shorter.

But you know what? Between Jim, Mary Martha, Storm, Metallica, wahoo and waterspouts, it was a week to remember for sure!

This story was originally published April 24, 2017 at 9:04 AM with the headline "A week on the water worth remembering."