June 26, 2004

Fishing stories

hen I was a boy growing up in Florida my father took me fishing as often as he could. We'd go down to the Intercoastal Waterway and fish off a bridge, or down to the St. Johns and fish from shore. We'd get up before daylight and hit the road to use large salt water rods that my father had laboriously wrapped multicolored string around to hold the eyes on the rod. He'd finish them off with a coat of clear fingernail polish to protect them from the salt water.

On occasions where we went down to the St. Johns river, I remember big cargo ships passing by. As a young boy I was awed by their size and how quiet they were as they passed. As the giant ships approached, the water would be sucked out a long distance from shore, leaving a lot of dry land between where we were standing and the water's edge. And as the ship passed, the water would return, washing up around our feet before returning to its normal level.

On Saturday, Caroline, Nelson, Ron and I launched from Sandy Point State Park. This is part of the group headed for Tangier Island later in the season, and we were using this as an excuse to paddle in some rougher water. We launched from the small craft launching area and headed NW toward Magothy creek.

Not a lot of wind, but a nice breeze and overcast skies to keep us cool. Over our right shoulder a heavily loaded container ship was zipping down the Chesapeake. I dismissed the ship after watching it a few minutes and began watching the wakes of the small power boats and the small wind generated waves.

Within a few minutes, several hundred yards ahead of us I saw a single, large breaking wave. I knew in that instant what had caused it and in my mind I thought "Oh shit", but out loud all I could manage to say was "whoa!". I knew in a few moments we'd also be dealing with the wave coming in on our starboard side and suggested to everyone they might want to turn in to it.

The wave rose up out of nowhere, and as everyone turned toward it to try and paddle over or through it, for a second I thought of turning away and trying to ride it. But I thought it better to stay close in the event someone capsized so I started paddling hard to get up and over the wave. I was closest to shore so when we turned I would be the last to go over the wave. As it approached I could see it was steeply pitched, the top very sharp and on the verge of breaking. For a moment everyone disappeared from my sight as they passed over the wave leaving it between me and the rest of the group. Did anyone capsize? Would the wave break before it reached me?

I dug in harder with the paddle to pull me up and over. My bow slamming down the back side I see everyone is still upright, and I warn everyone to just keep an eye toward shore because I don't know how much will be reflected back from the sea wall that lines the shore. In a minute it comes back as a series of much smaller swells, but stronger than the clapotis we had been paddling in.

My best guess in size was 3 1/2 - 4 feet. Ron thought maybe 5, but in the quick excitement I was not thinking of how big the wave was, but was already thinking of the capsize recovery steps I would need to take if there were overtured kayaks once I crossed the wave.

I was irked I had put my camera away before the wave. It would have made a great photo!

With the excitement subsided we paddled down to Magothy Creek and after spending a slow paddle exploring the quiet of the creek we headed back into the Chesapeake. Heading SE we stopped on a small beach for lunch before launching back toward Sandy Point. The boat traffic had picked up, causing much more wake to contend with, but the gentle breeze kept us cool, and the water looked glassy on the chop. As we neared Sandy Point the chop became more organized, almost developing a gentle swell to ride on.

We ran our boats on shore and clamored out to avoid the small waves breaking against the sand. After packing up we said our goodbyes and I left with the thoughts of my father taking me fishing as my company for the ride home.

More pictures

Woody