OUTDOORS SPORTS

         My son-in-law, Jeff Bartz and I were stalking the docks lining Abaco’s East Shore peninsula. The docks can be a good spot to hunt for dinner, particularly at high tide.    
            It was March of 2006, and not only was it Jeff’s first skin-diving adventure, it was his first experience with mask, fins and snorkel.

It wasn’t long before we saw a sizeable mutton snapper – a great tasting fish.   Broadside to us, the fish remained perfectly still as we slowly approached.

I watched as Jeff took aim, drew back the surgical tubing of his sling, and let fly. The five foot stainless steel shaft stuck solidly into the wooden piling. 

            Jeff learned two things that day: first, don’t be in a hurry. Secondly, if your dive partner is close enough, you can actually hear him laugh underwater.

            During the remainder of our trip we had some great dives on the coral reefs, saw many species of marine life including sharks, a huge manta ray and such. It was also quite enjoyable to see my grandson Sam– then only six years old – don a mask, fins and snorkel. He did his own brand of hunting right off the beach, finding starfish and other assorted sea stuff.

            Despite the unforgettable sights, for two years I often kidded Jeff about the dock piling. I also chided him – in jest – for taking a shot at a large barracuda. Thankfully, he missed.    

            After our return to Abaco this past March and I doubt I’ll be doing any more teasing – or chiding.

            Jeff has become quite adept with a Hawaiian sling. Courtesy of my son-in-law, we dined on fish each day, including mutton snapper and grouper. A sizeable barracuda also made it to the dinner table. Two hours earlier the barracuda had been only a few feet away, suspended below the surface. At the time we were on the coral reefs, nearly two miles offshore of Man ‘o War Cay. I was eyeballing the fish when a silvery flash went past my head. Jeff’s spear slammed into the barracuda and the toothsome fish went ballistic. The fish darted to the surface, to the bottom floor, back to the surface, bounced off the coral and so on. Finally it swam to the bottom where it expired.      

 I was a bit apprehensive about eating the barracuda, as they can contain ciguatera poisoning. Nonetheless, Claudia sprinkled the fillets with lemon pepper and almonds before grilling it. It was delicious.       

  While Jeff seems to have mastered the sling, my grandson Sam was able to take some nice underwater photos, as evidenced by the lion fish seen here.

  While I enjoy skin-diving, it was especially enjoyable having my grandsons along. Eight years old at the time of the photo, Sammy has become a fine diver in his own right. Michael, age three, took to the water readily with a floatation vest. But most of the time he played on the sand with his brother, Joshua. Their younger sibling, Timothy, remained on the quiet side - at the time he was three months shy of coming into this world. He was born in August and, now that he’s here, I can’t wait to show him the turquoise and aquamarine waters surrounding Abaco.

    The yearnings began before my school years. My Aunt Faith & Uncle Jim first took me off the beaten path early in life. In the pre-war years Aunt Faith had been a school teacher. Having grown up on a farm in the deep-south, it was the naturalist in her who introduced me to Mother Nature. Both she and my Uncle Jim combined to give me a good case of the fishing bug. In the late fifties they moved down south, but before that, they took me along with them on a couple of Canadian fishing trips – exciting stuff for a youngster. 

     My father wasn’t the outdoor type, he bowled and golfed. After my aunt and uncle moved away my ticket to the wild places was temporarily voided. It wasn’t long before I discovered northern pike in the waters of Tonawanda Creek barely more than a stone’s throw from my Hutchins Street home. After reeling in my first pike, I noticed they were a smaller version of the muskellunge, fish I had seen my uncle do battle with on Canadian lakes.         

     On an October afternoon in the mid-fifties, I saw Sal “Savie” Capuano and Jim Holvey seated on the tailgate of the latter’s station wagon. At the time the car was parked below a maple that on the corner of Sumner and Hutchins Sts. The tree’s foliage was a blazing orange, and it only enhanced the scene below. Savie and Jim were sitting on the tailgate, displaying a bag limit of ringneck pheasants. Among the pheasants was a red fox, its coat sleek, its tail full and lush.

     It was in this same time frame when I faithfully tuned in to a television show called Sea Hunt with Lloyd Bridges portraying Navy frogman Mike Nelson. Despite his mask being partially filled with water at all times, I wanted to emulate this guy.

     Thanks to a few high school teammates, I discovered waterfowling and experienced some pheasant hunting before the ringneck numbers declined.

     My pike dreams, took me from north central Ontario, to Manitoba and the Northwest Territories. Along the way I discovered fishing for spectacular-colored lake trout in shallow water. Time spent in Alaska resulted in catching grayling in the Arctic Circle (not to be confused with the polar ice cap) and experiencing total daylight for a month.

     My skin-diving began on Cedar Street, behind the phone company. One day I grabbed a mask, fins and snorkel and I was off. Ensuing years led to dives off Martha’s Vineyard, LaJolla (where I finally coaxed my wife into giving it a try), the Florida Keys and Abaco, Bahamas.        

              The dreams of my earliest years have all come true. More importantly, God has blessed me with a wonderful wife who, since our LaJolla adventure, has been a dive companion on numerous trips, some with our children and grandchildren. Yesterday we celebrated our thirty seventh anniversary.

     Unlike my childhood dreams and aspirations, Claudia came along unexpectedly. God’s plan is perfect. That being said, there is much to give thanks for today.  Happy Thanksgiving!