aj, enjoyed the read. You wanted to hear of others, so here goes a similar childhood memory.
My maternal grandfather was the cat fisherman in our family. When I got about 5, he started taking me along. It was never a simple overnight trip. Wasn't aware of all the prep work, until several years later, when I was big enough to carry stuff to the truck and the boat trailer.
He would plan, organize, and load forever. '55 Chevy 5 window pick-up, 14 ft. tin boat, with a '52 evinrude 3 hp. Had stuff piled up, and when the Beverly Hillbillies show first came on TV, only then did we kids realize folks thought that look was funny. We just thought it meant we were going fishing. Did I mention it was not a simple overnight thing?
One of my jobs was to go out to the worm bed, and fill several old lard cans with as many night crawlers as I could dig. That was the only bait he ever used. It was lined with tin, covered with tin, and was a compost area just for worm production.
When the truck and trailer reached capacity, he and I would leave Bastrop, La. and head for Lake Providence, La.. Lake Providence is a cut-off from the Mississippi River when it changed course at some point. Cypress lined banks, with all of the characteristics of the river, just without the flow. Once off the asphalt, the long dirt road through the woods was always a challenge to get to the "campsite" at waterside.
Unloading into piles was the first part of setting camp. A 1/4 stranded cable was laid out on the ground between two large oak trees. Ladder up on one tree, and a cable clamp secured the cable as high as could be reached. Come-along was chained up high on the other tree. The canvas tarp, which required two to carry when rolled up, was then laid out over the cable, and the cable winched tight. Did I mention this was not a simple overnight thing?
Once the sides were guyed out, basic pup-tent shape, it covered about a 25x50 foot area. We never got wet, no matter how hard it rained. Sometimes there were as many as 15 sleeping under, with most of the adults on cots. We would dig a latrine way out back and always had a 5 gal. can of lime with a tin cup next to it. Everything went under the tent to be unpacked later. Tent up, latrine dug, meant it was time to start having fun.
There was a trail leading to the bank, that we would hand walk the trailer down till we could slide the boat off and down the embankment to the water. We would then spend most of the afternoon skulling down the bank, stopping every 6-10 ft, to tie a limb line to cypress limbs. Nylon trot line cord, swivel, crimp on weight, and hook had all been rigged and inspected before leaving the house, so it was a simple matter of tying them on unbaited, and moving on down the bank. Couple a hundred usually, but went pretty fast once we got a system down. Motor would never be cranked until we were at the end of the set, and we would only run back to the camp. No riding around. Back to camp and finished setting up.
My uncle would show up after he got off from the mill in Bastrop, around dark, and each of them would have a couple cups of coffee, off the open campfire, and then we'd head to the boat to bait the lines.
My uncle was always in the stern, me in the middle, and my grandfather in the bow. We used carbide headlamps, sizzling and occasionally popping, and would paddle down the bank, baiting up with those huge night crawlers. My job was to hand granddaddy a worm, and then watch for snakes in the branches, and in the water. I got really good with a skulling paddle, knocking them out of the branches, and then whacking them, swimming, with the paddle, sort of like a slicing action to the middle of the snake, and it would break their backs. Great fun knocking out moccasins, and killing them with a paddle. I'm easily entertained.
When the end of the set was reached my uncle would fire the motor and we would slowly ride back down the line. If there would be a fish on after the initial baiting run, it would always be left on, as my grandfather thought it started them to bite better. Always made me want to go and get that first fish, but I eventually learned the importance of leaving it as an attractor. Usually my grandmother would have arrived at camp by the time we would get back after baiting up and would have brought the first night's meal from the house with her.
We would run the lines several times every night, but only once at mid-day. Channel cats were the only target and man did we catch fish. Nothing huge, with a big fish being 6-8lbs. Most were 10" to 18" fish, which was what my grandfather wanted. We ate all we could at camp, and cleaned fish were packed into ice chests, and many a trip, my grandmother would return to Bastrop, and spend all day packing fish into containers for the chest freezers, and then drive back to camp. They supplied about 6 families with all the catfish they wanted, for the last 40 years they were alive.
I grew up going catfishing not for sport, but as a way of putting food on the table. My grandfather loved the camping and the fishing fed his extended family. Most of the trips lasted 4 to 5 days, and we would go at least 6 to 8 times a year. Hundreds of fish were the norm, but occasionally there would be skimpy trips. If the fish were not biting by the second night, camp was broken, and home we would go. Days taken off from work before my grandfather retired,were too valuable to waste.
The vehicles changed, real tents followed, coleman stoves, lanterns, etc., but those memories from the late '50's on can never be changed. The woods are now a subdivision, and the banks now sport boathouses and piers.
After my grandparents got to old to go on their own, with my grandfather in a wheelchair, my wife and I found a camp house across the lake from where we used to go, and for the last few years they were able to go, we would rent the place. We'd roll him out on the pier. I would cast a rod out with a couple of skinny worms dug from under where the worm bed used to be. I think the fish understood, because they always bit for him.
That little kid sure misses his grandfather.
boatstall
"Hello, My name is Bill, and I'm a tackleholic"
Likes: 
Thanks: 
HaHa: 
Reply With Quote
Originally Posted by booger1
