A grand Easter fishing trip and more!

Boating is...Easter Break and them Peeps.

By boatguy Ed

Easter/Spring break came at us like a runaway freight train. There were so many rug rats on the canal that the entire atmosphere changed from old and stogy to whiny and energetic. No one fell in the canal or needed medi-vaced off the canal so it was a great time. I don't know how long they were here, some may still be here, because it was a blur.

Grandma's cooked more and cleaned more than they thought they could. Grandpa's worked tirelessly to entertain un-entertain-able grand kids. The beach was the blessing if you could get the little darlings off their electronic devices. Most of the preteens can type with their thumbs faster than the best stenographer.

The 'Dead End Canal Yacht Club' club house became the refuge for the us all because we had an unofficial rule against bringing little ones into the house. The rule was often broken but they were always escorted by their fathers looking for a little refuge of his own and destroying ours.

The pre-preteens dug around my garage until they discovered the clubhouse wall. Then they dug into the 'official' paraphernalia. They hit each other with the 'official' plastic gavel that starts every meeting and tore certificates off the wall before their refuge seeing fathers whisked away. Their mothers were always shopping or sitting in traffic coming back from shopping.

And then that group was gone to Orlando and another new group came in. The high school breakers overlapped and they tried to share the beach which worked out okay. The scantily clad teenagers rarely got to the beach before noon and then slept in the sun for a long hour or two.

The mixed bag of weather even allowed for the much anticipated Easter Bait trip with 'Punxsutawney Phil' and his grandson, Johnny. Early Saturday morning seven of us piled into the 'Bijou V' and headed down the canal. There was a little more wind than I prefer because an approaching cold front was stirring things up.

I let Johnny steer through the idle zones but I took control for the run to the Sanibel Causeway. Johnny was our sharp lookout and he quickly spotted birds swooping around the third span. What luck we were having. My Biddison served me well. It has a lot of stability so I was able to stand on the bow. My Whaler was a good boat but I had wet shoes whenever I threw a net, even alone.

The first toss brought up eight white bait and that would have been enough for Johnny but the rest wanted more. My second toss produced a plethora of flopping bait and it was necessary for us to shovel most overboard and back into the mouths of some enterprising birds. 'Run-aground Ralph' thought it good sport to 'feed' the waiting birds but I wasn't there to bee a lunch wagon. I took over and threw the bait away from the birds. Hopefully they would be there another day.

'Boston Bob' took over and did surprisingly well for a sailboat-er. In two sloppy casts he had filled up the second bait well. As the sun came up we lost our bird guides so casting was a lot less fruitful but everyone got a turn.

The fishing went well. We started on the 'long cut' at the end of Pine Island. Next we moved over behind Shell Point and finished up in Hurricane bay. We had a late breakfast of Mullet, eggs and grits at the Waterfront Restaurant and a late lunch at the Big Game Waterfront Grill with the Grandmas.

Johnny fished off the dock for hours telling his cousins and other kids all about his adventures. They all slept like logs but were up very early for Easter Sunday. Off everyone went to Easter services and returned just afternoon for the brunch and finally the egg hunt.

We held the event on two adjoining front lawns of neighbors who were already gone up north. That will teach them to leave early. Some eggs were plastic, some were real and some were chocolate. As the kids scrambled around our Peep plan was put into effect. Inside a box near the group of mothers with their marshmallow peeps we carefully placed seven live peeps.

Who'd have figured that the St. Augustine grass would be too much for the smallest of the baby chicks. They just huddled down and made funny noises. The larger ones hopped over the jungle grass and were discovered by the kids. They all rushed over and very gently picked them up. The youngest dropped their baskets and squealed with delight. After they all had a close look, it was over. Farmer John came by to take the chickens home later in the day.

I can't imagine a better Easter weekend. Boat safe. Send questions and comments to boatguiEd@aol.com. Boatguy Ed is a semi-retired marine manufacturer, www.supershipbottom.com. This blog is meant for educational purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Void where prohibited. Some assembly required. Do not read while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment.