It was a great morning to be out. Memorial Day always means something special to me, and I am always thankful that I made it here to remember rather than be remembered. The peaceful sunrise and a high outgoing tide - what could be better?
Then I heard them. Across the marsh grass I could see several heads moving in the Intracoastal Waterway. There were four of them, and they were each on their own personal water craft (PWC). They were twisting and turning, jumping each other's wake, and generally having a good time. At six in the morning, I thought they were a little strange, but hey - everyone has a passion. Maybe theirs was early morning joy riding.
I've had several close encounters with PWCs over the years. While doing some freshwater fishing I became very familiar with one or two individuals that made it their purpose in life to harass fishermen on the lake. Inland lakes and rivers seemed to be clogged with these craft, and anglers get a little more than disgruntled when they appear in the area. But this was saltwater, and I had never really had a problem with them. They don't normally run offshore, and oyster bar creeks aren't a favorite area for them.
Today, however, would be a different story. We were fishing in Hairpin Creek, so named because of the way it turns back on itself several times, resembling a hairpin on the charts. We were anchored close to the outside edge of a bend, casting mud minnows and jigs to the shallower inside of the bend.
Normally, we would fish the deeper side of the bend, but redfish and flounder were showering baitfish along the shallow mud and sand bottom, and we were having great success. Normally, we could have caught these fish until the water shallowed to the point that the fish could no longer swim in in. Then, again normally, we would reposition the boat and fish the deep side of the bend, continuing to catch fish.
Only, today wasn't going to be normal.
As I watched and listened, I could not believe my eyes and ears. We were over a mile back in Hairpin Creek, and it looked like the joy riders were headed our way. Standing on the bow, I could see several miles across the marsh grass, and it was obvious that our friends were headed into our creek.
This creek is not a thoroughfare. That is, it does not connect with another creek. It simply gets smaller and smaller, twisting and turning until it disappears in the marsh. Mud and oyster flats on either side of the creek provide feeding areas for reds during the high tide, but they do not provide enough water to float anything, including a PWC.
As I watched in disbelief, these four idiots, forgive me Mom, came at us wide open. The distance between my boat and the shallow bank we were fishing was about twenty feet. We could easily cast all the way into the grass bank. Without slowing, smiling or even looking at us, they ran between my boat and that bank, taking one of our lines with them!
As I tried to calm myself, I realized that these four worms had no where to go once they passed us, and they had to come back by us to get out. My devious side began to take over, and several ideas popped into my head. Things like a jig impaled in one of their heads, or a heavier line cast way across the grass and stretched tight back to the boat just a foot or two off the water began to look good.
Luckily, I came to my senses and I rationalized the mentality and gene pool of people who use PWCs. So I calmly (on the outside) watched as they came flying back by us on their way out. Everything would have been reasonable, given their mentality, except that the last one to go by smiled as he turned and looked at us over his shoulder - and then gave us a one finger salute!
Needless to say, the fish left us. Even the deeper side of the creek was turned off. But, probably more importantly, I was left with an even lower opinion of PWC riders. So much so that I have declared a passive open season on all PWCs.
Passive open season? No, I am not shooting anyone, but if there is ever one of them in a pickle with a disabled craft (I refuse to call them boats), I will gladly take the rider on board for his or her safety. But the watercraft stays where it is. I will not tow one under any circumstances.
And the ride back in to the dock will be slow, educational and memorable for the rider. So, if you ride one of these and break down, look for my boat! You can't miss it, it has About.com on the side. I'll be glad to give you a "lift"!
