Fishing with Hellgrammites in Jackson's Valley

Music Sequenced by Barry Taylor

The Time Spent Fishing Won't Be Taken Off Your Life.
This ancient saying from the Koran certainly makes a lot of sense. Today's world is full of stress and turmoil. The tranquillity of fishing, being one with nature, and the satisfaction of the strike and subsequent struggle with a wily adversary are true pleasures. To be with a Grandchild when he or she catches his or her first fish is a special moment in life. It matters not the kind of fish or the size. In both your memories it will always be a small whale or one of those fish that Jesus fed the multitude with. Jesus hung out with Fishermen so their stories must be true.

A strange thing about fish is that, as time goes by, they seem to get bigger than the fish your chum is telling you about. I was telling Petie Brown (the local fishing Maven) about a 150 lb. Brook Trout I had hooked on a three lb. test line during a raging blizzard, last summer, when his Kid, Sean, butted in with some cock-a-mammy story about a Slough Shark (Pike) that he snagged, but never landed for over a half a day. His Dad confirmed that Sean's fish was at least twenty feet long. At the time of the catch they were in a inflatable boat, just after dawn, and using 4 lb. test line with a #8 Len Johnson spoon (all these details are important to a true fisherman; fisherladies ignore the details and are just getting a fish for the frying pan!). Sean fought that fish throughout that morning and into the afternoon. It pulled every inch of line off his reel and kept going across the Slough, through the Bulrushes on the East side, up to the North end, where the line tangled and pulled an acre and a half of Lilypads loose. That darn fish headed for open water. Around 3:30 P.M. it dove for the bottom, with the line striped off the reel and a persistent Sean holding a death grip on that spinning rod. Down under the water went the boat, with Petie hugging the outboard and Sean standing in the bow like Captain Ahab. Down, down they went. After about twenty minutes of heading for Davie Jones's Locker, Sean, getting short of breath, reached for a knife and took a slash at the line, missing and puncturing the boat. That boat took off like a balloon, broke the surface and it, they, and the fish landed in a field several miles from shore.

As you can see Sean has baited his Dad up. Dad holds the baitfish as he and the fish are trolled behind the boat. This way Petie can beat off the smaller Pike. When a decent size one comes along Petie gives the Pike the Trout and then takes the Fishing Plug out of his nose and rams into the Pikes mouth. Note the firm grip Petie has on the Trout's tail. This takes practice. Once they are over the side the Trout pulls Petie along in erratic directions so they look like a school of baitfish. That lures the bigger Pike.... 'Tis true! Just click here.

Hanging on the wall of Petie's Office is that self same Pike that they both will swear was 20 odd feet long, before it had to be shrunk by the Taxidermist to fit onto the three foot mounting board. I feel sorry for Sean's not being able to afford a plus 20-foot mounting plank for that Slough Shark. It would have been easier for non-Fisherfolks to believe his story. A real fisherman can recognize a shrunk fish in an instant. They have shrink marks on their bellies, sort of like stretch marks on Fisherladies tummies..... Holy Mollie! I never did finish the story about that 150 lb. Brook Trout. Next time we have lunch together and Petie's finished bragging about his Wife, kids or Motorcycle he'll for sure ask about it. When he finds outs I caught it on a Hellgrammite on a #12 hook he'll get his tackle box and rod and be gone to Jackson's Valley. That's where they have BIG Brook Trout. My 150 pounder was the runt of the litter.

Sean is a really nice young man so I never told my one and only White Shark story to one-up him, but I am willing to pass it on to you other Fisherfolks, because it's as true as true can be and I have the Jaw of that 14-foot shark hanging on the wall of my front porch to prove it. Sharks have no bones, just cartilage, so it has shrunk somewhat. When you see the rows of serrated teeth you will know how big she originally was. ******************************************************************************

I was down on the Yucatan on holidays with my wife years ago and decided to rent a boat to go fishing in the next day. My lady wife took one look at the boat in the morning. It looked like The African Queen without a steam engine. The Captain was a tough looking bearded old pirate who had brought his 12-year-old nephew along as first mate. My deal was $25.00 a day, he supplied the boat with a lump of rust with two spark plugs sticking out of it, the brew, condiments and the fish savvy. My main job was to catch Barracuda for our lunch and stay out of the way.

Barracuda are vicious rascals and when brought on board they are killed at once with a small baseball bat. They are called the "Wolf of the Sea" but will not bother a diver unless provoked. They very actively object to being pulled into a boat. Their jaws are full of pointy teeth that will flay your hide to ribbons if you offer them a chance at any part of it.

Off we went, sans Frau in this old relic, but enough Rum soon made it seem like the Queen E.. Captain Squid, as I called him, got quite jovial as he kept pulling on a jug and baiting my line with Needle Fish and I kept pulling in 4 to 5 foot Barracudas. At lunch time we pulled up along side a ratty old dock and went ashore onto a deserted island and 'The Nephew took charge.' He lit a drift wood fire, cleaned and wrapped the fish in Banana leaves with a couple of large dollops of a homemade salsa sauce. The Captain and I took turns fortifying our selves against scurvy by drinking Rum and Limejuice. My, it was pleasant and peaceful. I was feeling like Robinson Crusoe with his Man Friday and Nephew Saturday doing all the work. Not for long did this tranquillity last. A 50-foot Catamaran was sighted heading our way. The fish were done and a new jug of Anti Scurvy Lotion appeared at their exact landing time. We were squatting in the sand, shaded by some coconut palms reveling in a perfect meal when the Cat' tied up at the dock. The tourists figured us for locals and came boiling down the dock for a great Photo Op. Now big silver Barracudas laid out on green Banana leaves are a thing to behold and we had two five foot ones smoking hot. One of the ladies addressed me with "Excuse me do you speak English?" I replied in my best Spanish "Si Senorita, a lit-al." They ask permission to take photographs, which we gave. One stunner from Quebec City asked to try the fish. I took a large piece, put it half way in my mouth and said "come and get it, no hands," she did and so did six others in turn. Then we gave the ladies each a big chunk to share with their partners, which they did, no hands. There is a strip of dark meat just back of the Barracuda's gills. This is where the fish stores the equivalent of fat. It is delicious! Give that morsel to the pretty girls. I've yet to meet one who wasn't keen on my Barracuda.



After a small siesta we got down to some serious fishing.

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We gathered up our traps and put out to sea. There are a large number of sharks in this area of the Caribbean. If you are going to eat shark, the best thing is Shark Fin soup. Fish exporters pay a premium price to fly the fins to Japan. The meat inside looks a bit like corrugated cardboard or maybe a sponge. The main meat of the shark is eatable if you kill it and immediately flay the skin off and get the meat onto ice until you're ready to cook it. For reasons I know not, on death, the shark's skin starts to release a chemical that makes the meat unpalatable. Mud sharks off Vancouver, if skinned and iced at once, make the best fish for Fish and Chips you'll ever eat.. Sharks have no bones, only cartilage so no worries there.

Capt. Squid explained all this to me and that he and his Nephew would like to troll for Sharks on the way back to Port. This would provide them some extra Pesos. I had pretty much overcome the ravages of Scurvy by this time so agreed to his plan. Little did I know the consequences this Gringo was in for. Lurking below was a female much like this.

This is one of many excellent Sites that will inform you on this creature from the age of Dinosaurs. Man may become responsible for it's extinction unless it is protected. Photos by Graham Lambert. Take a peek...click here

Our daring-do Nephew got a huge hook on three feet of chain out of a locker. The hook was at least 8 inches along its shank and the barb looked like it should have been on a harpoon. One of my Barracudas was threaded on the hook, a ¼ inch piece of yellow nylon rope was made fast to the chain, and over the side went our offering to King Neptune. The rope, a couple of hundred meters long, was kept in a bucket to prevent hanging up or tangling. On the rear transom was a snubbing post, which the Captain spun a couple of turns of the rope around. All this being done, the Captain and I opened another jug of Anti Scurvy Lotion. The lad sat at the tiller and we sang a few Sea Chanteys as we putted along the bounding main.

Suddenly, the line zapped tight and was just a-smoking off that snubbing post. Captain Squid, was up in a flash, cut the motor and grabbed the line. It was a joy to see that old man fight that fish. 'Reminded me of Hemmingway's "The Old Man and the Sea."
In about 35 or 40 minutes the Shark was snubbed up to the back transom. The Captain kept shouting at me and pointing to the side of the boat I was sitting on, but he was shouting drunken Spanish at someone listening in drunken Gringo. I glanced over the side and there was a huge tail thrashing the water beside where I sat. "Ha!" I cried. I knew what he wanted!. I was to reach down and grab the tail and roll our catch into the launch. Campanaro, that was a big mistake! He wanted a very large machete from under my seat to do our shark in with. I reached over the side and grabbed the tail. In a flash of a flash I was in the water with a strangle hold on the tail of a Great White Shark, all 14 feet of her. Now the Captain was shouting drunken Spanish between gales of laughter at a now dead sober, very scared spitless Gringo. There was a series of Spanish conversation between Captain Squid and our Kid Saturday. The lad went forward and dug out an old rusty 10 gauge double hammer shotgun. Running back to the stern he tripped and fell and, ka-bam, off went one barrel, blowing a bloody great hole in the sunroof. The Kid gave the shotgun to his uncle, who was laughing so hard the tears were running down his cheeks. I had tears too, but of fear.
Several justified fears, as a matter of fact, i.e.

• Hanging on the tail of a very annoyed shark.
• Hanging on a shark with no land in sight.
• A drunk waving a shotgun around.
• Nobody speaking English but me.
• Having no idea how, or if, I will survive this day.
• Everybody thinking this is funny, except me.

Ka-bam, the Captain blew a hole in the shark's head you could have walked a small Burro through. She quit thrashing her tail, but now I was in the water with a goodly part of that shark's brains, blood and assorted other parts torn up by a 10 gauge at close range, all acting as chum for her relatives.

The kid threw me a line and they hauled me on board. As they gaffed that mother of all sharks, I dove into the Ice Cooler for some medicinal Brandy. I was through fishing for that day, and almost for life. Then I remembered that old saying "The Time Spent Fishing Won't Be Taken Off Your Life." Just think, all the time that I was screaming in the water, I was really quite safe! Maybe that's why Captain Squid and his First Mate, the Kid couldn't stop laughing.

As we went rolling home a force 7 Gale came up. The Capt. sat by the tiller with an arm around his Nephew as the wind howled and the tropical sea beat at us. I knew I had no control so rather then waste the last bottle I split it with the Capt. He and the boy were singing a Spanish song through that raging storm. I hummed the tune to my wife when I got back to the hotel. She recognized it right off, it was ~ Nearer My God To Thee ~ how was I to know? I do not speak Espanol!

Now does the Geezer look like a chap who would tell you a Fish Story Miss? More info

This very Shark ate the sister of the Unknown Soldier as she went around the Cape of Good Hope on the way to Van Deims Land.... Source Unknown.

Jack C. Downey CD
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