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Thread: Ted's Camping Trip (Part 1)

  1. #1
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    Default Ted's Camping Trip (Part 1)


    This is a TRUE story my friend Ted experienced in Florence, Alabama. I apologize if I did not get all of the profanity out.

    Camp

    The camp was a cutout on a snake-infested island that juts up out of the Tennessee River,
    Seven miles to the bridge or seven miles long, who knows, but that is was where it got the name, “Seven mile island”.
    Close by is Koger island named after the Koger plantation that was built along gunnel ford road, called that for the gunnels of a civil war gunship that stick up out of the water after it sank close to where the river was forded or crossed. The island is on the lower side of Wilson dam that was constructed during the Roosevelt new deal era to tame the river and forge electrical power from the shoals or rapids where the white water before the dam could be heard eight miles away. It all happened spontaneously, just a thought on an August afternoon after polishing off several cold ones with a friend of mine. The wife was out of town on a vacation with her Mom and I elected to stay home and keep an eye on things. With the wife out of town, the gate is left open and out to the wilds one will go to new pastures, like a dog let out of the cage and left to roam for a couple of days with full bore run, where no holds are barred and anything goes. One night at a small beer joint called Cajuns and after several brew ha ha’s, crawfish, seafood and a buildup of intake from the entire day, the idea come to us. Len was having trouble getting his key in the Jimmy to unlock the door much less drive us back to Florence. I drove. Len, a pipe fitter by trade, was notorious for working a two or three-month outage and then laying up for several months until the money ran out, was in several car accidents. One accident while an apprentice at the nuclear plant took the life of his best friend and changed his forever. From then on, Len was self-medicating and an alcoholic, but a hoot to be around. Len had no boundaries, unmarried, he was free to do as he pleased and that is just what the did. He lived two houses up from me, in a house complete with gunite swimming pool and a pool pump that would blow its top when the pressure got two high. Some nights the explosion could be heard inside our house, then the next sound is cussing and scuffling, the throwing around of tools and metal objects way until the wee hours of the morning. A completely different breed of cat this character and known through out the town to be a wild ass. He was popular in high school with many friends, they would show up at his parties when invited to his house but most felt sorry for him because of the way things had turned out. One party in particular was on the fourth of July and a mob of people showed up to eat from several caldrons of chicken and rabbit stew that was being stirred with a boat paddle. I stayed too late and got on the whiskey and ended up in the doghouse for a couple of days, which is how most parties, end up. The wife has a very low tolerance for letting oneself go and becoming a belligerent drunk, as she describes it, I describe it differently, of coarse. Life continues, it goes on, whatever storm comes along the skies seem to clear to a new day.

    Spontaneity according to Webster is occurring without apparent external cause, and that my friends is exactly what this was. Impulsive and spontaneous. Driving back from the beer joint I mentioned fishing and talked of the boat that had been long parked in the shed outside of the house. The boat was a fourteen-foot aluma craft with an ancient eighteen-horse evenrude outboard that smoked and spitted but would get you to the destination, sometimes. Always keeping a couple of paddles handy when in this boat is par, in case of an emergency land run. The conversation about the boat led to fishing and to where to fish and then on to seven mile island where one of us said we needed to go camping and that is how we ended up deciding on the next day. Hey I know, lets go in the morning, lets go to the store and get all the supplies we need, load for bear and head for the Island. Excited, that night, slumber came only for a short while anticipating the Journey into the wilds.

    Got up early and started loading the boat with all kinds of gear. Everything I could find from the shed was going into the boat, tent, cooler, cooker, fishing gear, all the necessities of camping. No sight of Len yet. He must be sleeping in from the long day and night of drinking, I myself felt hungover but what the hell, a couple of advils and good as new. Kept going. The morning went to noon and noon till after noon and I went around into the front of the house and looked up toward Lens. There were a couple of cars in front of the house so I decided to venture on up there. At the table were two of my old friends from school sitting and talking joking with Len, each with beer in hand the conversation turned to old times and to current. Hey you guys want to go to seven mile for a fishing trip I blurted out, yea that sounds good they said and I didn’t know whether they were serious or not but asked Len if he was about ready to go and he said yea I’m ready. Told Len to get his stuff together and come down and we would hook the boat to the Jimmy and go. Told the two at the table to be at the boat dock at 6 that evening and I would shuttle them to the island. They agreed, but I knew they would probably not show.

    After a while the beat up Jimmy pulled in the drive backwards and approached where the boat was. We hooked the boat up and off we went down the road toward the grocery and then to the package store for supplies. At the grocery we picked up the supplies, charcoal, steaks and beer, two cases. Stopped by the liquor store and picked up a couple liters of Jim Beam for good measure. Off to the boat ramp with little known of what was to lie ahead and we didn’t care, just away from civilization for a couple of days, is what we were thinking. Len had in the back seat a large black Lab named Jessie who was along for the ride and was enjoying the freedom from being kept in the fenced back yard.

  2. #2
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    We launched the heavily laden boat and oared it over to the dock and started pulling the cord on the old motor. It usually took one pull per horsepower to crank the ancient beast and that is what it took that day, I think twenty pulls before it came to life. Blue white smoke poured out with the familiar smell of oil mixed with gasoline and we were in business. Once the engine warms up, it will crank on the first pull most of the time. The boat was sitting very low to the water line almost coming over the sides with the load of stuff we had stored neatly packed. It was a strange unfamiliar site approaching the island with Len in the front leaning back on the cooler and the dog sprawled out in the middle of the boat with a happy pant and his tongue hanging out. We were free, free from the responsibility of the everyday grind with nothing but adventure on our minds, a trip talked about for years was happening on a spontaneous note. We motored down the south side of the island in the barge channel looking for a clearing, where people set up camp, there it was a small clearing with a sharp 2 foot muddy snaky bank, but at the appearance of other choices, this looked like the best landing site. The water was shallow enough to stand in approx 2 to 3 feet deep right off the side and I jumped in and waded the boat over to a root coming out of the muddy bank and tied the front to it, then waded around to the back and tied the back of the boat to a tree limb. Got the dog out and Len climbed out and I started handing him equipment from the boat, the tent fishing gear cooler groceries everything went on the bank and then to set up the site. Walked over the site and accessed the area for a possible tent site and found one close to the water. The nine-man tent had a stuff load of poles that had been taped for the past ten years without seeing any action. This is one of those old very, very large tents with two sides that come down low with the middle up high.

    We unrolled the tent and started assembling the poles, sweating in the August temperatures with humidity approaching 100% it was hot, the mosquito’s were starting to bite and it was getting toward evening. Luckily deep woods off was in the grocery list and we set to spraying ourselves to ward off the hungry insects… we were dinner.

    The island is notorious for snakes, with many tales of people who have went camping and woke up in the middle of the night with a family of water moccasins, cotton mouths, the dreaded snake of the river, warm water creatures who are aggressive in summer, especially August. Pour several more cold ones down and the thought of the old stories dissipated. Its getting late, I told Len to take the ax and start cutting firewood for the night, that the fire would keep the varmints away, and that I would go to the ramp and pick up the others.

    I left him there sitting on a folding chair and untied the boat and started back up stream in the barge channel. The old boat would really fly with the entire payload out, it was gettin it up the river. Several miles to the ramp, I made it pretty quick and pulling around to the dock it was about ten till six. No one in site. Waited till six fifteen and still no body, on to the payphone I walked thru the park at the river bottom and called the others. No contact, waited till a quarter till seven and headed back to the island.

    Upon arrival, there Len sat in the chair right were he was when I left, just sitting there with the dog at his feet. I tied the boat and walked up to him and saw the ax sitting there, it had been broke just under the ax head. What happened to the ax I bellowed at him and he just sat there and shrugged, and in a whinny kinda excuse voice said it just broke man must have been rotten. It was approaching seven thirty and night would be on us soon and at the pile of firewood he had gathered, I knew it wouldn’t be enough, so by hand I started walking thru the weeds into the wooded area nothing on but shorts and tennis shoes with no sox. Started gathering firewood, well until close to night. The were no grass in the woods but what looked to be ivy, so I stayed clear from the vines.

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    With the wood gathered and night approaching, I lent my attention to the tent with the last available light. The front tent pole with a 45 degree bend had been bent until the metal was cracking and almost in two. Asked Len what happened here and got the same reply as with the ax. Managed to find the duct tape and taped the pole to where it would hold up for a night. It was a total bitch putting this tent together in the dusk and finally finished, almost solo, Len lent very little assistance other than coaching, he just sat there and drank. Frustrated, sweaty, hot and it almost getting dark, with the tent standing I headed for the boat. Len looked at me and said, where are you going, I said, to take a bath. Got in the boat and drove out to the middle of the barge channel, stripped down naked and jumped overboard. The black river water was cool and I washed with a bar of ivory soap, It floats… Looking water level around a barge channel just before dark is a very strange experience. Rolling back over into the boat, drying off with a towel, I felt refreshed but hungry. Motored back to the camp and tied the boat up and climbed out and onto the bank.. Thought we need to build a fire and start the charcoals.. Started the fire and piled the charcoal into a pile, using the empty cans made an excellent grill stand which we could place the grill on to cook. The coals were turning white, spread them out and placed the grill top on it, unwrapped the huge T-bones and placed them on the grill with a sizzle they were cooking. Put salt and beer on the T bones for flavor and flipped them several times. When the food was about ready we realized we had no utensils to eat with, only the filet knife I had been using to flip the steaks with. We did have a couple of paper plates, with that the hot steaks were placed on the cooler top and cut with the filet knife into squares. It was getting very dark by now and I fumbled around for the lantern, the lantern was a liquid fuel type and the fuel we brought was a screw on propane type. So guess what, no light except for the fire. Built the fire up and started eating, popping a fresh cold one, started in on the steak. We were having steak and steak, no fixings but brew ha ha’s. Sitting by the fire was hot, 90 degrees at night but the fire made it 150 degrees. The sweat was rolling down my face as I ate the large steak, tired of cutting the beast I picked up the bone and noticed Len was doing the same thing. Animals, I thought we were, both sitting in the woods in the august heat by a huge bonfire, eating large T bones with our hands.

    This trip was starting to turn sour. The beer that I have been drinking along with the sun and with the intense heat was giving me a headache. Took a couple of aspirins and chased them down with beer believe it or not, there was nothing else to drink.. Started thinking with the ax to start, then to the tent pole, then to the firewood, then to the lantern fuel and then to the utensils, man the things we did not think of in our haste to get here are unbelievable. The luck.. where is it.. The night rolled on and it got a little cooler and the headache started going away as the digestion process of the steak set in. I looked over at the fishing poles leaning against the tree and thought of where to fish, the entire bank was lined with trees with a little opening where you may cast. So with that I went over and started rigging the rods out. Put weights and hooks on and rigged up for catfish. Catfish are biting in summer and being this close to the channel there should be plenty to be had.

    With the pole rigged, and a large night crawler on the hook, I fixed the line with a large red and white bobber and casted it thru the opening. The bobber landed twenty feet from the island with a plop and as soon as it landed the Labs ears stood up then like a rocket he was launched off the bank into the darkness of the river swimming and returning with the bobber in his mouth. God Damn it. What next. I was pissed. Stuff what else could happen.

    The curse of Len, many people have seen and experienced it, many have not survived but just about anyone who ventured out with him either ended up in a fix. I was starting to understand why. Pulled myself together and tried to come up with a solution to salvage the fishing efforts.
    I told Len we must tie the dog up and then we would get in the boat and ease out from the bank and fish the channel. Agreed we found the only thing we could tie the dog up with. Nylon string. God that is all we had was the string. Didn’t think of the rope on the front of the boat but with all going on and the drinking and not thinking we were using the only thing we could find. Should have known better, We tied the dog, untied the boat, paddled out a little and tried to crank the engine. While I was pulling the engine crank cord the dog got loose from the tying job and jumped in the water and swam out to where we were. The very heavy dog swam to the side of the boat and once vertical to the boat all that was visible was his nose, hell he was going under, I told Len to grab his collar and hold him up, unstable with the boat and moving or should I say groping around in the darkness of the river he held the dog to the side of the boat unable to pull him in. Disgusted I pulled the cold boat motor for the fifteenth time so hard that the cord came out of the motor, it broke off the flywheel and there we sat in the middle of the river with no motor and a dog clinging to the side exhausted from swimming. We both pulled the dog over into the boat and as soon as he was standing guess what came next. Yes the shake. He shook the water off of him and into the boat and on to both of us. That was the last straw. Very very very disgusted now, I paddled back to shore and tied the boat, got out went into tent and collapsed from exhaustion.

    Didn’t wake until early morning, refreshed, I was surprised at how good I felt considering all that had happened. Walking over to the boat I assessed the situation,
    We are on an island, the current is swift, we have no motor and only one paddle.

    Looking around in the boat, I knew there was a toolbox somewhere and there it was lying under the seat. Opening the toolbox, I found a crescent wrench, a couple of screwdrivers and a pair of pliers. Looked at the top of the metal top evenrude and started taking it off.

    The top came off pretty easily and exposed the flywheel. Luckily there was a notch in the flywheel where a manual crank could be accomplished. Found the broken rope and tied a knot in the end of the rope. Wrapped the rope around the guide and gave it a pull, Pulled several times and the engine started. Wheew. Separated the kill switch wires with a plastic split shot box to keep from killing the

  4. #4
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    engine. After the engine warmed up a bit, I decided to go fishing. Len was still asleep and I shoved off from the bank with a rod and reel and a box of worms.

    The catfish were biting and I caught several throwing them on the stringer as I floated with the current down the south side of the Island. Stayed out a couple of hours and when returning back to the campsite there was still no site of Len. Walked over to the tent and sure enough, he is still asleep. I entered the tent and bellowed, man are you going to sleep all day, I’ve already landed several catfish.. He just rolled around and yawned.

    Walked back out of the tent and over to the cook stove. Looked in the cooler at the eggs and bacon and thought about how to cook it all. Got the stove fired up and set the large iron Dutch oven on it. Started with the bacon, put the entire pack in the oven and once cooked, pulled them out with the filet knife and spread them out on a paper plate. Next I cracked all 12 eggs into the grease from the bacon and stirred them with the filet knife. They scrambled good but were pretty greasy. All in all the bacon and eggs were very good and filled the gaping hole in my stomach. Len ate his share and after a while I said why don’t we head down where I caught the fish and try our luck.. Agreed we set out
    Dog and all. We caught several fish and stayed out a couple of hours ranging the complete length of the island. Actually we had a completely filled stringer of channel catfish.

    When it got too hot to stand it anymore we came off the island and back to the campsite we went. We tossed around what we were going to do next and decided to break camp and go to Shiloh and eat at the catfish hotel, a restruarnt that is located up a notoriously
    Dangerous highway.

    We started breaking camp, and throwing gear into the boat, not packing it but just putting it in the boat. The tent was not folded very well and sat way up in the boat. As a matter of fact, I could not see how we got all of this gear in the boat in the first place.

    The last thing left was a bottle of Jim Beam sitting proudly on a stump with the seal unbroken.. We looked at the bottle and then at each other, and I asked Len, do you want to break the seal, He looked a me and said, The sun’s up aint it. With that he twisted the top off and took a very large swallow chasing it with a semi cold busch beer. I followed suit and the whiskey burned as it went down, the beer chaser washed some of the burn away but it wasn’t till the third drink that the burn subsided. We shoved off from the island with the buzz coming on strong from the whiskey. We passed the bottle back and forth while making it upstream until the bottle was empty, Then we started polishing off what was left of our beer supply. While the buzz was on a steady upward climb we passed in front of the mouth of cypress creek. Len said hey, lets head into the creek and see how far we can go. Not thinking, I agreed and we headed into the creek.

    We were approaching the savannah hiway bridge when Len dropped his rayban glasses into the creek, he hollered, hey man my glasses , stop the boat. Drunk by now I killed the engine, big mistake. Len dove over board and came back up empty handed gasping for breath. He rolled his drunk ass back over into the boat and I started looking around for the pull cord, no pull cord. Where was the pull cord, couldn’t find it anywhere. With the paddle under all the gear, I dove into the creek and pulled the front of the boat with a sidestroke made it to the shore.

    Once on the shore, the thought process was diluted with the Jim Beam and logic was out the window. All I could think of was to get the boat out right here. I went around to the back of the boat and removed the heavy engine. Struggling to get the engine up on the bank was a chore and I bet it was a site, luckily there was no one around.

    With the engine on the bank and the boat just sitting there, I decided to go to the boat ramp and get the Jimmy and the trailer and then we would pull the boat up on the bank with the Jimmy, pick it up and put it on the trailer, what a stupid, stupid idea. Man.

    But at the time that was the plan, but how to get my drunk ass to the boat ramp. Being a jogger I have run several ten kilometer races, I thought, hell it cant be that far and told Len to watch everything and I would jog to the boat ramp. Given the fact that I had just drank a half a liter of Jim Beam, a couple of beers and that the August heat was approaching 95 degrees with high humidity, it was suicide. Off I went, pacing myself down busy savannah highway. When a car would come, I would spin around and stick my thumb out, people were beeping their horn a me, and it must have been a site. One particular instance, I wheeled around and lost my footing and fell to the ground, the car slowed and as it did, I couldn’t get back up so quick, I looked up thru the weeds face still on the ground at the car, I could read the psi rating on the tire it was so close. Got back up and gathered my composure so to speak and started walking, got my breath and started jogging again. Sweat was pouring out of my body and soon there wasn’t a dry stitch on my overheated body. I could see the turn into the park about a mile away as I tried to pace myself to make the distance. When I got to the edge of the park I cut across the driving range, I don’t remember that well but I think a couple of golf balls whizzed by my head as I jogged across the range.

    It really pains me to write all this because its just one of those days that need not have happened, but hind site is 20/20. It did so, here it is.

    Arriving at the Jimmy exhausted, I got in and turned the key, guess what, nothing, it didn’t turn over at all. The battery was dead. I looked around at the busy boat ramp and started asking anyone if they had any jumper cables, several people just said no, but one guy said he had some and lended assistance. The damn thing would not start. He said sorry, pulled his cables off and headed on his way. I just stood there with the hood up looking at the motor, when a female voice asked me, Ted, is

  5. #5
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    that you, man, are you OK you look terrible. I slurred a few syllables at her and she looked aghast and shocked as I ran off down the road. To this day, I don’t know what I said to her or who the hell it was.
    I think I spoke in tongues to her with the action afterwards, who the hell knows.

    I had decided to run to my house, several miles away, and get my car, go back to the boat ramp, transfer trailer, then drive to the bridge where the boat was. What was I thinking, that’s just it, I wasn’t. The August heat coming off the road plus the condition of consumption I was in, was unbearable. Jogging up the hill on Pine Street I made it to the courthouse parking lot. Well this is a great place to be, just outside of the jail. If the law were to see me staggering down the road, the pokkie with you.. Some guy was leaving the parking lot in a beat up Chevy and I approached the car and asked him if he would give me a ride to north Florence, he said get in. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, a sit down. I directed him to my house and jumped out. Went into the house got the keys and a large glass of iced water. Man iced water never tasted so good.

    Drove the old vw diesel to the boat ramp, transferred the trailer over, and drove to the bridge.

    Len was under the bridge, leaning against the concrete wall asleep. Seems like that is all this guy does is sleep. Got out of the car and walked around to where the boat motor was, it was gone. Where in the hell is my boat motor, I screamed at Len, He awoke startled and muttered some unintelligible words at me. His head went back down and out again.
    Dang, what a day, I thought as I took the trailer off the car, and draped the rope down the bank to the boat. Once tied on the boat, I then tied the rope to the car trailer ball. What was I thinking here, that’s it again, pulling a fully loaded boat up an embankment on a creek about 8 feet. I went for it, started the car and the rope tightened and the boat dug into the bank, Len sleepily looked up and then his head went back down. After several failed attempts to get the boat up the bank, I hooked the trailer back to the car and decided to paddle the boat to the ramp… Well this is where my thinking
    Was really bent, All I had to do was unload the boat, and manually pull the boat up the hill. With no help at all from sleeping beauty under the bridge, the next alternative in this tri-alkalon was underway. I walked over to Len and woke him up and explained to him what was going on and what I wanted him to do. Drive the car to the boat ramp and wait for me there, I would paddle the boat around. Well that is about 3 miles against the current in a fully loaded boat. What… Go on, I told him. He got into the car, started it and off he went, the last thing I saw was the vw going across the bridge with the empty boat trailer following.

    The next thing to do now is find the boat paddle which was under the entire pile of gear.
    I walked to the bank and the wet mud caused me to slip down the eight foot bank in a free fall, I caught myself with my knee on a home made aluminum sharp edge of a trolling motor holder, the knee gashed open and the blood began to flow, I just rolled over half in the creek and half out holding the knee with blood coming thru my fingers.
    Finally found the paddle and started paddling toward the mouth of the creek. From the bridge to the mouth of the creek is about a half of a mile and once into the river, you are against the current and an additional three miles to the boat ramp.

    I started paddling, it took a long while to reach the mouth of the creek going with the current, then out into the river. Once rounding the bend of the creek I am in the sight of everyone in the park that happens to be camping, boating or having picnics or family reunions under the large covered shelters.

    I reached into the cooler and the only thing that could be found was ice, fish and about five ice-cold busch beers. I opened one and drank it down quickly, Opened the next and took a large swallow and sat it down and proceeded to paddle. I paddled past fishermen on a pier who waved and talked to me, where are you heading they would ask and all I could muster was a point in the general direction, no words. Next I came upon a man and a woman swimming, they just watched me pass, next was a large party under one of the shelters where the children of the party just stood and stared, like cattle in a field the emotionless children just froze. I must have been a site. 4 day beard, no shirt, covered in mud with dried blood covered leg. Man.

    I just kept paddling, like a quest, I was going to make it. Finally after a couple of hours heavy paddling, I rounded the corner to the little inlet where the boat ramp is. To my dismay I could not believe what was before my eyes. There in front of me was a wreaker
    Backed into the water and attached to the wreaker was my car, he started pulling up out of the water as I was paddling toward the ramp, still 40 feet away, as he pulled out, I stuff you not, water was pouring out of the doors of the car. What the hell happened.

    Finally made it to the concrete boat ramp where I noticed a large commotion going on, I wondered if Len was OK. Was he in the car? Did not know. Picking up my swelled blood soaked leg up with my hands and lifting the stiff leg over the side I limped up the ramp to be intercepted by a park ranger who ask me to try and restrain myself. He thought I would kill Len or something, but I was glad to see him over there arguing with an officer of the park. He was alive, that is all I cared.

    Back at the ramp..

    No words were said to me from Len, he just got into the same wrecker that pulled my car out with his Jimmy hooked to it and disappeared. The park ranger said that he had parked in a no parking zone and was in the way of people pulling boats out and he came up and asked him to move the car, He told me he had a crazy look in his eye and was sitting in the car with the windows rolled up with that big old nasty dog. He said when he cranked the car he just started backing, and hit the wet ramp

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    pretty fast and then off into the water with jackknifed trailer and all.. Len, Jessie and car went into the drink, Next to jump out unharmed, He said it looked almost animated the way it happened, he couldn’t believe it.
    He just said he was glad that no one was loading or unloading a boat or someone could have been killed. He shook his head and laughed, you guys look like you have had enough trouble for one weekend, that’s all that needs to be said for now, I thanked him shook his hand and he went away.

    Alone at the ramp, I surveyed the damage. Man when the wife goes away the cat will certainly play I thought to myself. I started walking toward the pay phone not more than fifty yards away fumbling and praying for fifty cents to make a call because I don’t think I could stand another marathon run. Two quarters produced from the mud and blood soaked cutoffs made the call to my father possible. I said hey how are you doing, Oh just got in from church today and had a large lunch and proceeded to tell me what they had and then said I’m just sitting here watching the race half asleep. Man, that sound like a great day. Wonder If I could bother you in to coming down to McFarland bottoms at the boat ramp to get me, I’m having a little car trouble. He said sure, I’m not doing anything be there in a few..

    I walked over to this old plywood stage used for bands on the forth of July and collapsed.

    Sleep came quickly as I lay there on the plywood with the next sound being my father saying to me, are you ok. That’s twice in one day someone asking me if I am ok or not.
    I told him part of the story and said my car was shot and that we needed to get the boat out of the water. We took the trailer off the car and hooked it to his truck and backed it into the water. He took one look at the boat and said where in the hell have you been, camping, yea I answered and told him the boat motor was stolen. We loaded the boat and left the vw there, he drove me to the house, backed the boat into the drive and toward the shed , disconnected it and off he went. I went into the house, went straight to the cabinet, got a towel and took a long shower. Man it felt good to be back home. Got out of the shower, pulled the made bed back and sank into the mattress, sleep came instantaneously.

    The alarm clock rang the next morning and I reluctantly got out of the bed and stumbled my sore body to the bathroom. Got back into the shower, then dressed, made coffee and finding my wife’s keys took her car to work. I was shot that day a work, exhausted. Told the guys at work what had happened and they laughed till they cried. I said ,,, It ain’t funny man my damn car is still at the boat ramp. About half way thru the day I started itching and then remembered the catfish still in the cooler. The itching continued all day and into the night, I dumped the fish in a ditch and ate dinner and called an old mechanic friend of mine to see if he could take a look at the vw. He agreed, so after dinner that night, I called my father again and he towed me with a strap all the way to Sheffield across O’Neil bridge to where this guys shop was. He carried me back home and I went to bed early that night. The itching had gotten worse and turned into a rash by the next day,
    Poison ivy, and what a case of it, turns our where I was gathering firewood at the camp was nothing but a poison ivy bed.

    Went to the doctor the next day and he said it was the worst case of poison ivy he had ever seen. Gave me two shots of whatever the stuff was, but it started clearing up in a couple of days.

    The mechanic told me the clutch in the vw had disintegrated when the car hit the water, and that the transmission had water in it. He said the car was practically shot. Asked him if he could drain the transmission and put new fluid in it and if he could fix the clutch.

    He said he would try but no guarantees. Called back a couple of days later and he said that he had the car going. My wife came back home and asked where is your car…

    Now, I have to explain what happened to her, she just sat there and shook her head and said that is what you get for hanging around Len.

    Got the car back, he was right, it was shot, almost leaving me stranded in Huntsville, making all kinds of noise and stinking to high heaven, the carpets had mildewed and by the time I got to work, I smelled like a dirty mildewed river laced Labrador retriever.

    I sold the vw a couple of weeks later for seventy-five bucks and helped the guy push it on to his car carrier.

    I never spent any time with Len much after that, just would see him every now and again,
    Around town, He got worse and worse. I went to a party one time and he showed up in a an old suit with a drunk chick, he had two black eyes.

    Spontaneity is good, but I will never forget that camping trip as long as I live, if any thing could go wrong it did. When ever I hear people talking out of the blue about going on a fishing slant bar camping trip the memory comes back and I have to laugh…

    The end


    The lifestyle Len lived finally caught up to him as he was found a couple of years ago in his parent’s house with his dad. They had both been dead for several weeks and no one really knows what happened. Speculation and guessing are all that the authorities can come up with but all in all who knows. It’s still a mystery.

  7. #7
    Join Date
    Jun 2005
    Location
    North-East Mississippi
    Posts
    4,466
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    Default wow

    I'll give you this - you don't give up easy! I had thought of posting
    some of my fiascos, but they pale in comparison to all that. Been
    awfull lucky a lot of times. Have you ever gotten up in the morning and
    thought someone stole your truck, only to find it three blocks away,
    crossways of a parking spot, empty whiskey bottle and ID laying in the
    floorboards? Or been so hung-over you thought you were dying?
    white faced and shaking, saying "God, if you let me live, I'll never drink
    like that again"? It is a thousand wonders I survived my twenties!
    Shoals Area Crappie Association

  8. #8
    Join Date
    Apr 2004
    Location
    Crabs tremble in my wake.
    Posts
    3,314
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    Talking You should sell that story to a hollywood producer.

    I sat here for 20 minutes reading that story and it has everything that a good movie needs.The good times , the bad times , the scary times and the bitter sweet ending.Hats off for the good writing and the memory still good enough to hold it all.
    Commercial fishermen help feed the world.

  9. #9
    Muslickz Guest

    Default

    BRAVO!!!

    I laughed, I cried... Very Nice.. could be a field and stream shoe in..

    -Mus

  10. #10
    Join Date
    Jan 2005
    Location
    Iberia Mo
    Posts
    11,290
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    Default

    That Is The Funniest S##t I Have Ever Read!!!
    For a full line of fluid beds
    soft plastic, jig heads and more see us at

    www.simplycrappie.com

    http://stores.ebay.com/Simply-Crappie

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