Early morning on Sugarloaf Key and I thought why not take Cheyenne down to the bridge so she can sniff and I can take pictures. Good idea.
I came across a couple of anglers, and I must have brought them luck because as soon as I arrived the old man hooked a fish which his son took in his hand covered with a rag, unhooked the fish and tossed it back saying it was too small. The old man peered into the depths disconsolately as the fish disappeared in a flash of silver underwater.
Cheyenne looked like she could get into this fishing lark. 
"Too small," Omar told me with a grin. 
He is from Cape Coral where he moved after growing up in Miami and he had brought his 75 year old father down for a weekend of fishing to celebrate father's day, albeit a little early. The sun was coming up and he told me they had been there since six the night before, "like me at work," I said.
We talked dogs for a while, about Bo who Omar used to let out first thing in the morning and he would tour the Miami neighborhood before coming home in the evening just before Omar got back from work cleaning pools, and the dog "stank something fierce" from his adventures.
Cheyenne decided she liked the taste of bait fish, and the old man looked down at her and said severely "Es gorda" - she's fat. So she is.
I started to get sleepy and after I gave Omar directions to the Tiki Bar and motel on Ramrod where he had set his heart on spending the next evening drinking Cheyenne and I took off. She was mighty reluctant as the old man still had lots of lovely bait fish to hook.
Omar collected the dead bait from a bucket and sliced them up for his father. "He used to do this for me," he said with a sad little smile,"now I have to do it for him."
The day was looking good, good enough to spend it with your Dad fishing if you were lucky enough to be able to.
I came across a couple of anglers, and I must have brought them luck because as soon as I arrived the old man hooked a fish which his son took in his hand covered with a rag, unhooked the fish and tossed it back saying it was too small. The old man peered into the depths disconsolately as the fish disappeared in a flash of silver underwater.
Cheyenne looked like she could get into this fishing lark. "Too small," Omar told me with a grin. He is from Cape Coral where he moved after growing up in Miami and he had brought his 75 year old father down for a weekend of fishing to celebrate father's day, albeit a little early. The sun was coming up and he told me they had been there since six the night before, "like me at work," I said.We talked dogs for a while, about Bo who Omar used to let out first thing in the morning and he would tour the Miami neighborhood before coming home in the evening just before Omar got back from work cleaning pools, and the dog "stank something fierce" from his adventures.
Cheyenne decided she liked the taste of bait fish, and the old man looked down at her and said severely "Es gorda" - she's fat. So she is.I started to get sleepy and after I gave Omar directions to the Tiki Bar and motel on Ramrod where he had set his heart on spending the next evening drinking Cheyenne and I took off. She was mighty reluctant as the old man still had lots of lovely bait fish to hook.Omar collected the dead bait from a bucket and sliced them up for his father. "He used to do this for me," he said with a sad little smile,"now I have to do it for him."
The day was looking good, good enough to spend it with your Dad fishing if you were lucky enough to be able to.
3 comments:
Very nice, thanks for sharing.
Pop's gonna be 77 next week; still going strong. He thinks I'm not quite proficient enough to bait his hook - and that's okay by me.
I tok him flats fishing when he was 73; we caught so many fish we both got tired.
thanks for the memory.
Dear Conch:
I'm telling you... Get into fishing. It's free food!
Fondest regards,
Jack/Reep
Twisted Roads
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