Casting About

Warm memories of the Sunshine State

I was raised on a farm and driving a tractor before I could perform simple addition. Daily chores like feeding the cattle, cutting ice so the livestock could drink and filling the wood box were all part of my life. For the most part it was fun and rewarding. Looking back I certainly wouldn’t trade it for anything.

But I always had a way of shifting the responsibility of things I didn’t like to my sisters. Gardening was one of them. If it couldn’t be done with a piece of machinery, I wanted no part of it. This was no easy task because the Martin household had a garden that would supply the produce section of most grocery stores for weeks. I always fabricated an excuse like fixing fences or moving the cows to a different pasture when it came time to weeding or picking strawberries. I love to eat them, but yields were usually about 100 quarts per picking … “the wood box is getting empty.”

Life on the farm had a lot of advantages. Rewards from a developed work ethic, exploring personal limitations to appreciation of nature always outweighed any personal inconvenience of cramping my style.

Speaking of style, Brigman still doesn’t believe I own a pair of cowboy boots. I am sure it all goes back to the hair thing. He and some of the guys give me a little grief about my hair style. I pick my battles, and this is one I certainly will not win. Besides, my Dan Posts are much more functional than his Lucchese boots.

The last several weeks have rekindled some of those fond childhood memories. Recently, I spent some time in Vegas at the Professional Bull Riders finals with my friends at B & W Trailer Hitches. Riders and fans from all over the world attended to see who would win the $1 million prize.

There are some things television just can’t do justice and bull riding is one of them. Don’t get me wrong, there is certainly a lot of bull in fishing but none of it weighs a ton and the repercussions don’t involve broken bones and torn shoulders. Reminiscing on my farming days, I actually thought about taking a spin, but as a TV personality a hoof in the face could put a serious “dent” in my career.

Unfortunately the PBR lasted two days after I had to leave. I had less than 24 hours to get home for my daughter, Maya’s, 5th birthday before heading south for the final two filmings of Bass Edge Season Three. Luckily, Diana and Maya would be joining me on this trip.

The fist half of the drive flew by, partly because I did not have a boat behind me. Previously leaving both Bass Edge boats at Ditch Witch of Alabama allowed us to make better time and save on fuel. Even with this being our 37th filming, anticipation of fishing and weather among other things, were on my mind. Much like time on the farm, I never knew what my day would hold. We arrived in East Palatka, Fla., to sunny skies, 84 degrees and light wind, leaving me questioning my packing choices.

As anglers, most of us have experienced some of the hassles of traveling with a boat -- limited parking, no electricity for charging batteries and 25 miles to the closest ramp. Putnam County, however is very angler friendly. The whole community seems to be designed for bass fishing. We stayed at the Best Western of Palatka literally a block from the river. It was a little odd though, having a blown up Santa Claus and snowman at the entrance when Maya was excited about going swimming

Any time Bass Edge is close to the coast, seafood is sure to fuel the crew. I like seafood, but Brigman can live off of it. Lo and behold Steve had done his homework. We would be dining at Corky Bell’s Seafood and Musselwhites Restaurant for our two nights of bliss. Now Steve may be slow at some things, but let me tell you, the guy can peel and eat shrimp like an otter.

Great fishing, food and accommodations weren’t all the treasures that Palatka held for us. While filming driving shots and B-roll, I noticed a yard sale being held down the street from our hotel. After a few passes, I was finally able to read their sign, and we pulled in and met numerous members of the Capitol City Jr. Bassmasters along with their sponsors. It was amazing to hear their stories and the effect the club has had on their life. We took a few photos, left some goodies and made several new friends.

As the sun began to set, a chance still existed to see the Space Shuttle launch. Grabbing a quick sandwich through a drive-thru, Diana, Maya and I decided to drive out to the coast. As traffic slowed on a bridge over the Intracoastal Canal, we realized this was the spot.

Finding a place mid-bridge, we parked and exited onto the walkway. I knew we were north of the launch so process of elimination told me we needed to face south. What I wasn’t sure of was the general area in which to focus our attention. So, I politely asked the gentleman standing next to us. Pausing to bite his tongue to keep from laughing, he calmly and pleasantly stated we would not have a problem knowing where to look at launch time. His next statement said it all, “You’re not from around here are you?”

But the comment was well deserved as the blackened ocean sky turned a burnt red and orange. Dazzling flares illuminated for what seemed like minutes. There was an overwhelming silence among the thousands of us on that bridge, with flashing cameras adding to the light show. When the two rockets dropped off, the color reduced to a brilliant white. I am not sure how long we stayed there, but it didn’t matter. The experience was indescribable and well beyond our lenses’ ability to capture. Certainly a moment I will never forget. It was kind of like bull riding, fishing or meeting the Capitol City Jr. Bassmasters … some things you just have to experience.