Fishing With Unc

Not all my fishing has been the fresh water fly variety. In my youth Dad and I went ocean fishing every Christmas with Dad's brother-in-law, my Uncle Lester. He was married to Mom's sister, Aunt Grace and was mom to my cousin, Ron. Dad and Unc were best of friends, visiting each other often and always playing pranks on each other.

On one of these trips to see them in Jacksonville, Florida Unc took us king mackerel fishing off the St. Johns River. I soon found out that this was a different type of fishing just in the preparation it took. When Dad and I would go to a local pond, we might take a sandwich or crackers and maybe soft drinks. Not so for ocean fishing. The night before we fueled the boat and packed a cooler with snacks, sandwiches and soft drinks, as the next day's tides required us to leave before daylight. Uncle Lester went through his checklist:

• Food
• Water/soft drinks
• Rods/reels/rigs
• Paddle
• Life jackets
• Extra coolers for fish we catch
• Bait bucket
• Extra 5-gallon bucket
• Old newspaper

With everything pronounced ready and in the boat, off we went -- Dad, Unc, Ron and me. Ron and I had worked ourselves into fever pitch by the time we pulled out of the driveway. Ron and I were as good friends as Dad and Unc were, doing everything together we could on each visit. This included but was not limited to playing baseball, getting into trouble and fishing.

Anyway, off we went in dawn's early light. We put in the river at an old fish camp that had seen better days in the 1930s and '40s near Mayport and headed for the mouth of the river. On the way out we passed the biggest ship I'd ever seen that Unc called 'Connie.' It wasn't until years later when I was in the navy that I'd get to know the aircraft carrier Constellation. He ran us in real close so we were under the curvature of her bow looking up at the massive anchor. Before we were out of her lee, I knew I'd be a sailor one day.

Then we ran out to find a shrimp boat. After locating just the perfect one, Unc passed up to it our bait bucket with a five dollar bill inside. Back it came minus the five dollars but full of by-catch from the shrimp nets. Now we're ready, I thought.

But I was wrong. We had to find sea birds feeding now. They fed on small fish the were chased up to the surface by larger predatory fish. Fish we were after. After sighting the birds, off we went towards them. Dad drove while Unc rigged and baited our hooks. Finally, we got to fish.

We threw out our lines and began the age-old ritual of waiting for a bite. Ron and Dad and I were fishing. Remember the extra bucket and newspaper? Well, Unc was carefully lining that bucket with paper. Afterwards he went to the bow of the boat, dropped his pants, sat on the bucket and proceeded with his daily constitutional.

By now the unanchored boat had settled itself into the swells, wallowing back and forth (port and starboard) every time a wave passed beneath us. Then the wind shifted, and we got a whiff of what Unc was doing. Ron and I started gagging. Pretty soon we were engaged in full-on barfing, one of us on each side of the outboard motor. Dad was laughing near to tears, and Unc laughed so hard he nearly fell off his bucket!

Finally he finished, as did we. Unc cleaned his bucket with seawater (all the while explaining its contents will go into the eco-system) and we quit chumming and went to fishing. Now I don't remember who caught what, but I do remember catching one mackerel. It was far larger than anything I'd ever caught in a pond, so I thought it was huge. It probably wasn't as mackerel go. At day's end we had caught enough to feed us and the next door neighbors that night.

That's a day that neither Dad nor Uncle Lester ever let Ron and me live down. Although it started out pretty crappy (as it were), the day ended by all of us having fun on the water while fishing.

Maybe next time I'll tell you about Dad and Unc raking oysters, fishing and losing their catch to a hammerhead.