Saturday, May 07, 2016

Roadtrip Day 304


Roadtrip Day 304

5/07 Saturday

Ah, early wakeup call from the excited children’s voice shrilling around the campground and adults whose normal speaking voice is apparently theater trained to project to the cheapest of the cheap seats. Loud motherfuckers. But it’s a lovely, sunny day.

I know I’m back in the South cuz there are people cane-poling from the lakeshore. They’re using store-bought rods, rather than found-wood bamboo or sugarcane stalks as rods but it’s still sho-nuff cane-pole-style fishing. Color me amused. Yes, I’m gonna drive my quarter-million-dollar Class A diesel pusher RV down to the campground in order to do some serious cane-poling.

Whatever. Power to ya, folks. Enjoy. Teach your kids those important cultural heritage activities, just please don’t refer to it by its “historic” cultural name, ok? I do see some competent technique out there from a couple of the adults, clearly they’re long-time cane-polers, having learned it as children from their parents. Wonder how much that carbonfiber rod cost, compared to a free sugarcane or bamboo stalk. Teach your children well… Just look at them and sigh and know they love you.

The kids are very excited to be fishing.

Never did teach the girls how to cane-pole but they had their own rod-and-reel sets on the Zombie Princess and Chloe took a liking to dropping a line in the water. MJ used to go out crabbing with Poppa Tom and both girls occasionally fished from the deck or beach in season. Now MJ goes crabbing and fishing with boyfriend Joe. Outdoorswomen, by gawd! Naturals! Both of ‘em! (grin)

Like all watersports enthusiasts of every stripe, the folks at the lake have the sine qua non accessory – the ubiquitous cooler full of beer. Hopefully some other liquids for the chirrens.

Amusingly, at the other end of the lake-fishing spectrum, there’s a serious-as-a-heart-attack actual bass boat out there. It’s a nonmotorized lake, so he has his HUGE outboard up and is tooling around on his electric trolling motor plying his multi-thousand-dollar high-tech fishing gear with his fishing buddy, one chair in the back for the owner/driver and one in the bow for the buddy. Foot controls for the trolling motor, of course, so you can stand when or as needed. No cane poles for those fellas, not even if they’re carbonfiber, graphite, or nanotube. Are they making nanotube fishing rods yet? Maybe.

It’s almost lunchtime. I wonder if the cane-polers’ cooler contains baloney sandwiches on white bread. A little mayo, a little yellow mustard. Maybe a slice of American cheese. Brings back memories. I confess to spending the occasional day on the banks of Bayou St. John or the seawall at Lake Pontchartrain with a cane-pole and just such a cooler. Maybe some flat, dish-style crab nets, too, which meant there were also raw chicken necks in the cooler as bait near (but hopefully not touching) our baloney sandwiches. Ah yes, those long-lost days of yesteryear when mullet was considered a trash fish which no respectable person would eat. Now I hear about mullet festivals in various Southern locations. Homage a les mullet! And people eat tilapia. On purpose.

O tempora! O mores!

My mother loved croakers. You couldn’t catch enough of ‘em to satisfy her. You really couldn’t. I admit croakers taste pretty good and she could cook the hell out of ‘em (Yum!) but I think she’s the only one who didn’t mind how fucking BONY they were. Gimme a nice pan-fried red(fish), a spec (speckled trout) prepared a la amandine, sheepshead en papilotte, flounder stuffed with shrimp in some classic French sauce… Ah, man I think it is definitely lunchtime here.

Ain’t seen nothin’ come outa that lake yet in the almost-a-week that we’ve been here.

Warm enuf for shorts and T-shirt today before noon. My kinda day. Working on TLC at the picnic table, enjoying the day and just saw a husband, wife, and two small kids cruise by in a jon boat. The guy had his shirt off and I swear his skin had an albedo of a full-on 1.0. And there was a lot of it. Arrrrgh!, it’s the White Whale! Call for Captain Ahab!

Soft evening a hot dinner. End of a nice week here.

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