Hunters Hole; my time to say goodbye to the place. I attended the funeral of yet another good Somertonite who moved on recently and found myself visiting with Mark Curry. As often happens when seeing someone after many years I was flooded with memories of days gone by and one that came to mind was Mark and I riding in the back seat of Clydes Jeep Commando while my dad rode shotgun, heading of course to Hunters Hole for some night fishing. Clint was too young to go that late at night, but old enough to pitch a pretty impressive protest as we drove off and left him out front of the house with Norma doing her best to contain him! The next thought I had during that short visit was how much Mark and I have grown (up and OUT!) since those days and how it would likely require an equipment trailer towed behind Clydes Jeep in order for us two boys to make that fishing trip today! The point is, that spot was fished day and night, 7 days a week, probably 365 days a year by someone, no matter what. All kinds of fisherman would be there or show up using all kinds of bait. Worms, crawdads, grubs, chicken liver, frozen shrimp, beef liver, bread, stink bait, corn, peas and every form or fishing lure known to man would and could be seen in action. Frankly, whatever I used never seemed to work, I wasnt a very productive fisherman. I could catch perch and later tilapia with the best of them, but the bigger fish always seemed to elude me. I did once catch a 4 pound bass (not at Hunters) and that was a good prize as in those days bass werent as big as can be found today. I recall that Bud McKay had been singing the praises of soft shell crawdads during those times and I remember thinking to myself even at that young age, it wouldnt matter if they were soft shell, fat shell, round shell, sea shell, square shell, shotgun shell, no shell, gold shell, if it was my bait, that bass was going to go straight past my line and onto other matters. Shortly after that Bud caught a 9 pound bass (with a soft shell crawdad!) and ended up having it stuffed and mounted, the biggest bass wed ever seen in our lives! For a short period of time after Buds big catch, anything of any real value in life could only be achieved with the utilization of soft shelled crawdads, the downside being the difficulty with explaining them at school, church or work….it was a short-lived fad. The next phenomenon by way of bass fishing was the plastic worm. I liked the plastic worm because it meant a continual action of casting and reeling in…..in my case, reeling in without a fish, but it kept me busy! I do know of another form of tackle that most folks wouldnt associate with successful fishing at Hunters Hole; a rope lasso. Now this isnt something Ive ever tried personally nor did I actually witness it being put to use, but my dad related to me how it happened. Back in the late 50s and into the 60s, the Town of Somerton used prisoners to pick up trash, work on the maintenance crews and perform other manual tasks that came about. It worked out well for the town and prisoners both as sentences were reduced due to good behavior and recorded work accomplished, plus it allowed the town to get work done without hiring additional employees. It wasnt uncommon to see prisoner crews digging up water and sewer lines, cutting trees, laying sidewalk/curb concrete and conducting many other tasks around town. However, there was a lesser known job the prisoners were sometimes called upon to help with and that was with dead bodies….YIKES! In todays world we enjoy having all forms of emergency infrastructure; firemen, EMTs, Police, ambulances, hospitals even, helicopters if necessary. However, back in Somerton in the times Im speaking of, the fire department was all volunteer as needed, generally one cop on duty and the Justice of the Peace doubled as the Coroner, no ambulance, no EMTs and definitely no helicopter! So, with that stage set, a call made its way to my dad (the one cop on duty that particular day) that a body had been seen floating in Hunters Hole, uh oh. As I understand it, my dad grabbed two prisoners, arranged for someone to be at the site with a boat and if Im not mistaken had the current Judge with him, not clear if it was Judge Cavanaugh or Herman Frauenfelder, Im sure he told me, but I just cant remember. Anyway, they set out over to where the body could be seen, which I believe was to the south of the normal fishing area, with a length of rope in the boat. As they get close to the decomposing and odorous floating body, one of the prisoners fashions a lasso out of the line and clearly intends to rope the body and pull it into the boat. Dad immediately told him that wasnt a good idea, that he and his partner in crime needed to reach over and pull the body into the boat. The prisoner assured my dad that he actually had experience with this back home (???) and knew what he was doing. Okay, but dad informed him that if anything went wrong with the retrieval he (Buffalo Bill prisoner) was going to make it right. Apparently it was sort of like being at the rodeo or any calf roping, except that when this cowboy went for the head, the head came off and went to the bottom of Hunters Hole……I dont recall that ever happening at the Silver Spur Rodeo as a kid, hmmm. Long story short, the cowboy had to dive into the bottom and retrieve the head, then he and his partner pulled the rest of the body into the boat as dad had originally suggested. I think this was why I never wanted to swim in Hunters Hole….or become a cowboy. Its easy to see how I embraced the plastic worm over the soft shell crawdad and rope lasso, it was a much cleaner option. However, it wasnt any more effective for me as a fisherman, but I didnt lose my enthusiasm. In fact one day I was with my dad at the Hole fishing from the bank when Jack and Mike Snyder drove down. Dad and Jack were talking back over by the vehicles while Mike and I fished, at this point with regular bait (worms and/or crawdads), then we heard a truck pull up and park on top, it was Mike Edwards. Now Mike was/is older than me, I think the age of my middle-older sister Shelley because he was always sweet on Linda DeLaughter, who was Shelleys age. Mike was the best fisherman I ever met and would routinely make experienced grown men burn red with envy by the catches hed pull in up at Martinez Lake, Fishers Landing and on the river, he was a natural. His mom Betty was the nicest woman and would always ensure I had everything I needed to fish with, probably sensing I possessed some sort of fishing handicap as a kid, but she never let on, making me feel as happy as a boy could during an outing! Here he came walking down the steep drive to the waters edge carrying a rod & reel, leaving his cool 1972 Chevrolet 4WD pickup that hed eventually sell to Killer Seale sitting up on the levee road (see the Somerton Pool Tournament story!). He talked to Jack and my dad, then came over to me and Mike (Snyder) telling us how he was just going to take a few casts over toward the toolies and try out a plastic worm lure hed bought. One cast, slow reel in…second cast, slow reel in …HOLY CRAP, he hung one! It was Martinez Lake all over again, Mike dragging in a huge bass! It wasnt as big as Bud McKays, but it was probably 6+ pounds, something you actually WOULD write home to mom about! Well, Mike said goodbye, took his bass and left, causing me to immediately re-configure my fishing rig with a plastic worm as fast as possible! I dont think Mike changed his set-up, he was a bit older and not as excitable as I was, but thinking back maybe he should have done so or at least moved back to where our dads were talking. The reason I say that is because during my exuberance of trying to cast out and catch the other huge bass I knew was waiting out in the water, hungry for a mouth of plastic worm and hook, I did snag something big…..Mike Snyders ear, OUCH! Years began to stack up after that, I went fishing with my dad less and less, spending more time with my friends as all young men do. Dad and I would drive by Hunters once in awhile, but frankly I dont remember fishing there after that, however I do recall he and I shooting a new gun out over the water. The last memorable trip I have was as a teen and the plan was to load into a large raft (me, David Selitto, Ricky & Jerry Phillips and Beezer Turner), then Stanley Phillips and Bud McKay would pull us out to the river where we would float down to the border, theyd go off fishing and wed be picked up by Janice and Nancy. Thats when the river still ran and we could have fun by it. When I got out of the Navy and came home it had already began to change; the water didnt run like it always had, plus the land was now more and more controlled by the Indian tribe. Eventually the water went away altogether, the Tribe took all the land access and then the illegal border crossings made it a no mans land; everything and every place has its time I suppose. I wish everyone had a Hunters Hole full of good memories in their life because its been a blessing for me, thank you Lord!
Posted on: Tue, 15 Apr 2014 22:12:55 +0000
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