Gone Fishing. Really!

Greg and Mom

I hate fishing. But my husband loves it and my Mom claims to enjoy it as well. Whenever she visits from New York, she asks Greg to take her out on the boat. The boys don't have to go, but I do, because my Mom and my husband/daddy have decided that it's good for me.

"You need some fresh air!" Mom says, cheerfully.

"You need to get off the f-ing computer," Greg mutters, cheerLESSly.

So, off we went last week, Mom and Dad- I mean- Mom and Greg in the front seat of the truck and me in back, headphones on, brooding like a teenager. Fun!

It's about an hour's drive to the boat launch. Along the way are what could be called cliche sights in Texas: Brahma bulls, cypress trees draped in moss and a modest little house with an oil well pumping on the front lawn.

We stopped and bought bait shrimp at this curious little place:

When you live near the Gulf of Mexico, bait shrimp looks a lot like what they serve in restaurants up north. In fact, in the past, we have boiled up the leftover bait and eaten it ourselves.

Greg likes to fish in an area called the San Bernard National Wildlife Refuge.

It's an interesting place because we can put the boat in the river and then drive to a spot where we can beach it.

Greg usually stays with the boat to fish and I walk (with an unsuspecting guest) across the wild, untouched sand for about 60 seconds

until we hear and finally, see, the waves of the Gulf of Mexico. Very cool. One side-river, other side-ocean (yes-I'm calling the Gulf of Mexico the ocean! It kinda is).

(ignore my fat legs)

But on this day, Mom wanted to fish, so we found a suitable spot and threw in a couple of anchors. I took my position at the back of the boat:

Sometime during my nap, Mom and Greg got a bunch of bites, but all they pulled in were crabs:

(Save your jokes. This is a family blog!)

Finally, the two of them decided we could do what I enjoy: ride fast and go to the beach. We secured everything in the boat, including ourselves. The front of the boat rose up as we took off, pounding the waves at first, then leveling out and skimming the water as we shot past the empty shoreline. Like a faithful Labrador, I leaned into the wind, closed my eyes and let my ears flap as I took in all these new and exciting smells.

Cranes and pelicans took to the air as we approached and then suddenly we sank back down as the engine slowed. Greg drove right up onto the bank and I jumped out.

Once I got the sand out of my teeth (you shouldn't jump out until the boat has come to a full and complete stop!), I helped Mom out and we walked across to the Gulf side of this tiny island.

You can only get to this beach by boat and every time we go we're the only ones there. You never know what you may find washed up on shore. This day it was a driftwood graveyard.

The flowing curves of wood had an almost dangerous attitude. They were beautiful, but there was something about their silence that made you wonder what might be hiding there.

The creepiness in the air was only bolstered by these tracks we found:

I know, they look like dog tracks, but there were no human footprints anywhere on the sand. Greg told us matter-of-factly that mountain lion can be found there. Time to go!

We weren't really worried about the tracks, Mom and I had a show to get to that night ( a certain stand-up comedian. I may have mentioned him in an earlier blog!).

So, the fishing was terrible, but it was a nice day to be out on the water. They were projecting record highs that day. Don't think we quite made it, but the temps were in the 70's. Don't tell Mom and Dad- I mean, Mom and Greg, but I'm glad they made me go.

I'll close as you watch Greg take the boat out of the water:

Yee-ha!! Time to go out two-stepping down to the ice house. See y'all!