A Dozen
08-02-2013, 02:52 PM
#11
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Are we talking about the big blue Sea Ray, sometimes can be caught with a jet ski on the back? I think that may be the one that tried to take Greg out at our first Austin Boat Forums Spring Run. Great story!
08-02-2013, 03:27 PM
#12
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Location: Lakeway, TX (Austin/Lake Travis) / LOTO Gravois Arm
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OK. Last one, then this forum will transition back to its intended purpose.
Fishing for chips.
Over Christmas, 2003, my mom and her husband , Vlad, flew out from Oklahoma to L.A. for a visit and to spend the holiday. After making it through the actual Christmas event, and with the weather particularly nice, Vlad announces he wants to go bass fishing at the local, and world class largemouth bass fishing lake near my home.
A little about Vlad, so you get the full picture. Vlad is big guy, 6’4” with some beef, and was born in Russia. He holds 2 PhD’s in atmospheric physics – one earned in Russia, the other earned here in the U.S. after he immigrated about 30 years ago. Early in his Russian life, he was in their navy designing Dopler radar systems for submarines. After coming to the U.S. and earning his 2nd PhD, he became, and still is a scientist with the National Severe Storms Laboratory. He’s well known as one of the world’s foremost experts in lightning, and a pioneer in this field. He has a particular expertise in lighting hazards to aviation (space craft included), and important tall structures (radio towers, etc.). The FAA and NASA (and various foreign country equivalents) routinely seek his advice and engage him for research.
So let’s just say that Vlad ain’t no dummy. Here’s another interesting, and entertaining thing about the man: if he ever decided he was done being the world’s expert lightning guru and wanted to do something else in life, he could easily make big bucks in Hollywood as a “celebrity” double for Osama bin Laden. Seriously, look at the standard issue media picture we are all familiar with of Evil Doer – and you’ve got a picture of what Vlad looks like – minus the turbin and AK-47 of course.
But I say that just for visual image – nothing more. Vlad is a great guy. And at this particular point in time during his visit, he was about 2 years into a serious bass fishing affliction. An addiction, really. He had applied his hardwired methodical and gargantuan scientific brain to the sport of bass fishing. He’d seen some decent success back in Okieland, which I had seen documented proof of since he had data gathered, hard key input, charted, graphed, and data analyzed each and every one of his outings; day, time, barometric pressure, temperature, dewpoint, water conditions, bites, misses, bait used, and length/weight and species of every fish he’d landed. Remarkable.
So with some hesitation, but admittedly pretty excited at the prospect of learning a bit of the science behind this sport that I myself have now taken up recently, I agree to take us bass fishing in the only boat I had at the time -- my less than one year-old 28’ Heat. Yeah, you read that right.
So off to Lake Castaic we go. 5:30 AM. We stop at the local tiny bait shop, and pick up bait. After having a tense moment or two as the local hardcore fisherman hanging around were definitely thinking they were in the presence of the world’s #1 International Most Wanted bad guy, we head to the ramp.
I launch the boat myself. Easy. And after a few tense moments of getting serious stares from other guys launching their boats – thinking they were in the presence of the world’s #1 International Most Wanted bad guy…we head out on the water.
We power over to a section of the lake where I’d caught a couple of huge slabs over the previous weeks. I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to do this fishing thing in my Nordic. There’s a bit of a breeze blowing, so catching a nice drift pattern along the shoreline isn’t going to work. No other choice. I’m going to have to anchor.
So I get into a decent anchor position, and give Vlad instructions to grab the anchor out of the bow anchor locker. Since this is before I’d discovered the miracle wonder that is a Box Anchor, I had your standard anchor…with chain leader. I tell him to be careful pulling the anchor and chain out. New boat, you know. He does a great job executing this.
Next, Then I tell him to gather the anchor and chain together, and give that thing a big heave-ho over the bow. He nods that he gets it. I don’t have a worry in the world about this part, since this guy is 6’4 and strong as an oxe. So it came as a huge surprise and disappointment that he tossed this apparatus…not like the burly Russian-bred vodka swilling Survivorman that he is, but with the weakest anchor toss display I’d ever witnessed from anyone who’d ever tossed an anchor – perhaps in the history of boating and anchoring. Richard Simmons as a 10 year old could have tossed an anchor better.
So with this lame toss propelling it, the anchor itself barely clears the bow, and the chain does a solid kerchunk on the bow before going overboard – taking a dime-sized chip out of my still-smells-new fiberglass with it. Geez. I can’t believe that just happened. Nordic battle scar #1, while…fishing? I better keep that a secret.
“Sorry, Dear”, Vlad says (he calls everyone “Dear”). I just looked at him, cracked a smile, and say “oh well”. It’s real hard to get angry with this guy – he’s family and a good guy.
This slightly rough-start behind us, and since our fellow bait store patrons and boat launchers apparently hadn’t yet contacted Interpol reporting a bin laden sighting at Lake Castaic (no signs of military activity on the lake and no sirens) – we commence to fish. Over the next 4 hours or so, we change position around the lake 3-4 times (I do anchor duty these times). Despite these strategic moves, we get skunked. It had gotten pretty hot, and the wind had come up to a pretty good clip, so it’s time to leave. But there’s a dilemma: I’m close to the shoreline, with the wind blowing directly to shore. So if I pull up anchor, there’s no one at the helm to keep us off the rocks – and I’m definitely not handing the helm to The Russian. I have no choice, Vlad has to pull anchor. OK, that can work.
So I take position at the helm, Vlad in the bow. Ready to go. I tell Vlad to pull up the anchor…and PLEASE be careful not to hit the boat on the way up, and make darn sure that chain and anchor make it on board without touching any more of this fine virgin Nordic fiberglass. Pull with authority – but with finesse. He nods. He must get it.
Well, I don’t know if it was him just doing what he thought needed doing, or perhaps it was the Richard Simmons good natured teasing I doled out to him a few times since he’d taken a chunk out of my fiberglass – whatever it was….I guess he decided he needed to prove his strength by attacking the extraction of this anchor like his life depended on it. He reeled that line in so fast, it was flying through the air. I think he lost control and forgot to slow down – because the anchor itself swung into the hull just below my bow eye – taking another dime sized chunk of fiberglass with it. Yup. 2 chunks, 4 hours.
“Sorry, Dear”, he says. I just smiled again, made a Richard Simmons on steroids and caffeine joke, and told him not to worry about it. I wasn’t going to. And haven’t since.
I2D
Fishing for chips.
Over Christmas, 2003, my mom and her husband , Vlad, flew out from Oklahoma to L.A. for a visit and to spend the holiday. After making it through the actual Christmas event, and with the weather particularly nice, Vlad announces he wants to go bass fishing at the local, and world class largemouth bass fishing lake near my home.
A little about Vlad, so you get the full picture. Vlad is big guy, 6’4” with some beef, and was born in Russia. He holds 2 PhD’s in atmospheric physics – one earned in Russia, the other earned here in the U.S. after he immigrated about 30 years ago. Early in his Russian life, he was in their navy designing Dopler radar systems for submarines. After coming to the U.S. and earning his 2nd PhD, he became, and still is a scientist with the National Severe Storms Laboratory. He’s well known as one of the world’s foremost experts in lightning, and a pioneer in this field. He has a particular expertise in lighting hazards to aviation (space craft included), and important tall structures (radio towers, etc.). The FAA and NASA (and various foreign country equivalents) routinely seek his advice and engage him for research.
So let’s just say that Vlad ain’t no dummy. Here’s another interesting, and entertaining thing about the man: if he ever decided he was done being the world’s expert lightning guru and wanted to do something else in life, he could easily make big bucks in Hollywood as a “celebrity” double for Osama bin Laden. Seriously, look at the standard issue media picture we are all familiar with of Evil Doer – and you’ve got a picture of what Vlad looks like – minus the turbin and AK-47 of course.
But I say that just for visual image – nothing more. Vlad is a great guy. And at this particular point in time during his visit, he was about 2 years into a serious bass fishing affliction. An addiction, really. He had applied his hardwired methodical and gargantuan scientific brain to the sport of bass fishing. He’d seen some decent success back in Okieland, which I had seen documented proof of since he had data gathered, hard key input, charted, graphed, and data analyzed each and every one of his outings; day, time, barometric pressure, temperature, dewpoint, water conditions, bites, misses, bait used, and length/weight and species of every fish he’d landed. Remarkable.
So with some hesitation, but admittedly pretty excited at the prospect of learning a bit of the science behind this sport that I myself have now taken up recently, I agree to take us bass fishing in the only boat I had at the time -- my less than one year-old 28’ Heat. Yeah, you read that right.
So off to Lake Castaic we go. 5:30 AM. We stop at the local tiny bait shop, and pick up bait. After having a tense moment or two as the local hardcore fisherman hanging around were definitely thinking they were in the presence of the world’s #1 International Most Wanted bad guy, we head to the ramp.
I launch the boat myself. Easy. And after a few tense moments of getting serious stares from other guys launching their boats – thinking they were in the presence of the world’s #1 International Most Wanted bad guy…we head out on the water.
We power over to a section of the lake where I’d caught a couple of huge slabs over the previous weeks. I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to do this fishing thing in my Nordic. There’s a bit of a breeze blowing, so catching a nice drift pattern along the shoreline isn’t going to work. No other choice. I’m going to have to anchor.
So I get into a decent anchor position, and give Vlad instructions to grab the anchor out of the bow anchor locker. Since this is before I’d discovered the miracle wonder that is a Box Anchor, I had your standard anchor…with chain leader. I tell him to be careful pulling the anchor and chain out. New boat, you know. He does a great job executing this.
Next, Then I tell him to gather the anchor and chain together, and give that thing a big heave-ho over the bow. He nods that he gets it. I don’t have a worry in the world about this part, since this guy is 6’4 and strong as an oxe. So it came as a huge surprise and disappointment that he tossed this apparatus…not like the burly Russian-bred vodka swilling Survivorman that he is, but with the weakest anchor toss display I’d ever witnessed from anyone who’d ever tossed an anchor – perhaps in the history of boating and anchoring. Richard Simmons as a 10 year old could have tossed an anchor better.
So with this lame toss propelling it, the anchor itself barely clears the bow, and the chain does a solid kerchunk on the bow before going overboard – taking a dime-sized chip out of my still-smells-new fiberglass with it. Geez. I can’t believe that just happened. Nordic battle scar #1, while…fishing? I better keep that a secret.
“Sorry, Dear”, Vlad says (he calls everyone “Dear”). I just looked at him, cracked a smile, and say “oh well”. It’s real hard to get angry with this guy – he’s family and a good guy.
This slightly rough-start behind us, and since our fellow bait store patrons and boat launchers apparently hadn’t yet contacted Interpol reporting a bin laden sighting at Lake Castaic (no signs of military activity on the lake and no sirens) – we commence to fish. Over the next 4 hours or so, we change position around the lake 3-4 times (I do anchor duty these times). Despite these strategic moves, we get skunked. It had gotten pretty hot, and the wind had come up to a pretty good clip, so it’s time to leave. But there’s a dilemma: I’m close to the shoreline, with the wind blowing directly to shore. So if I pull up anchor, there’s no one at the helm to keep us off the rocks – and I’m definitely not handing the helm to The Russian. I have no choice, Vlad has to pull anchor. OK, that can work.
So I take position at the helm, Vlad in the bow. Ready to go. I tell Vlad to pull up the anchor…and PLEASE be careful not to hit the boat on the way up, and make darn sure that chain and anchor make it on board without touching any more of this fine virgin Nordic fiberglass. Pull with authority – but with finesse. He nods. He must get it.
Well, I don’t know if it was him just doing what he thought needed doing, or perhaps it was the Richard Simmons good natured teasing I doled out to him a few times since he’d taken a chunk out of my fiberglass – whatever it was….I guess he decided he needed to prove his strength by attacking the extraction of this anchor like his life depended on it. He reeled that line in so fast, it was flying through the air. I think he lost control and forgot to slow down – because the anchor itself swung into the hull just below my bow eye – taking another dime sized chunk of fiberglass with it. Yup. 2 chunks, 4 hours.
“Sorry, Dear”, he says. I just smiled again, made a Richard Simmons on steroids and caffeine joke, and told him not to worry about it. I wasn’t going to. And haven’t since.
I2D
!
