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| Bass Fishing Home PageTM Boat Ramp Stories -- This board is for funny stories that happen while fishing | ||||||
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SUBJECT: # 3049: The Hatteras Heaver of Ocean Park, VA
Submitted by Foy from NORTH CAROLINA on 8/16/01 3:43:00 PM
Gerry says we can use this board for funny fishing stories, not just involving boatramps, so here goes.
Back in about '88 or so, a group of us were sitting on the beach near Lynnhaven Inlet along about 8:30 one fine June evening. We weren't fishing, just enjoying a couple of after-supper coldies and the sunset under the CBBT to the west.
Along comes an old fella we knew to be a down the street neighbor who rented a small apartment from some of the long-time residents. We'll call him The Hatteras Heaver of Ocean Park. Well, old HHOP was coming down to the beach to go fishing: a bucket, sand spikes, 2 rods, and a cooler rounded out his gear collection.
As he was setting up just 10-15 yards down the beach from us it became apparent that HHOP was knee-walking drunk. Just bobbing and weaving around like Lee Marvin in Cat Ballou. Been there, done that myself, so not being judgemental, that's just what his situation was at that time.
After several long minutes, HHOP has a bottom rig baited up with squid and goes to tie it on to a barrel swivel on one of his rod's running line. That's when I noticed that one of the rods he brought looked to be a basic 5 1/2 foot, stiff pier or boat rod with about a 20 lb class conventional reel. That rod, of course, was the one he'd baited up.
Next, HHOP staggers to the edge of the water and steps on in to about mid calf depth and prepares to cast his bait upon the waters. Thinking that it could be amusing to watch him cast with this boat rod, I quietly interrupted the chit-chat that our little group was engaged in and said "hey y'all, watch this".
Good 'ol HHOP didn't disappoint. He reared that broomstick rod back and gave a mighty Hatteras Heave toward the High Level Bridge, some 12 miles north. Trouble was, he hadn't flicked the anti-reverse on the reel, and the bottom rig, bait, and sinker all but jerked the rod out of his hands as it swept forward.
His balance upset by the unanticipated results of his cast, HHOP was completely unprepared for what happened next--his bermuda shorts dropped straight down to the water, right between his ankles and knees, and he weren't wearing no skivvies underneath.
We didn't want to embarrass the old boy, but he pretty much had that job covered anyway. We all 4 went into hysterics, as did half a dozen evening beach walkers close enough to see the show. HHOP compounded his problems by attempting the impossible--pulling up his now soaked bermudas with one hand while holding the rod and reel with the other. As he attempted to defy the laws of physics in this manner, he fell over into the drink, head up, and holding his rod above the water.
After a good 5 or 10 seconds of this thrashing about, HHOP bit the bullet and dropped the rod into the shallow water and pulled his shorts up while still in a sitting position in the shallows. He then calmly, and with a surprising amount of dignity, stood up, picked up his rod from the bay bottom at his feet, walked back to his cooler and spikes, picked up all his gear, and walked back through the dunes.
We never saw HHOP fishing for the remainder of that trip. By the next summer, the neighbors said he'd moved on. Something about him drinking too much to hold a job.
I have had to save a few of these old timers from the foam a time or three.
BTM
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