Been working recently down in Key West with my Buds from Coast Construction on some hospital rehab work.
The Keys Disease, the term is in reference to the affliction of accepting and/or embracing the Lower Keys style of life. My life here for instance is quickly becoming the epitome of the Keys Way….a slow cycle of every day the same as the last. The thought of doing something different is pushed aside as a nuisance on a daily basis . People here tend to obsess on something to occupy the time and it becomes a somewhat ritualistic life. There’s a guy who sits on the curb in front of Home Depot and his card board box sign reads “Handy Man , Want Work”. Never see him take an offered hand out……never seen him accept an offer of a job either.In fact I did hear him say ” Screw You” to an offered $ 15 an hour. But he’s there every day
My obsession, my ritual to get through the time is fishing. My life after work is a six by twenty foot wood structure suspended over water . Lots of fish caught and loads of “the one that got away” stories. Since we’ve been there at least twice a week suddenly something large, fast and very powerful will snatch a bait and peel off a hundred yards of line in a heart beat …and then break off. I once actually got the mother to fifteen feet away before the inevitable. Its become a mission of three men to get this taunting bastard. So one day while reeling in I snag on something and end up hauling in some tackle….the biggest, meanest fish hook I’ve ever seen, attached to a steel leader with a trail of fish line that must be 200 lb. test….I’m talking something you could use on your weed whacker . An idea was born, and so that night we lashed that line to a cleat on the dock and put a huge fish for bait, certain there will be no breaking off or wasting another 100 yds of fish line this time. Well that was wrong as not only did it snap the weed whacker line, the plank on the dock the cleat is attacked to has been torn lose…..swimming is definitely off the ritual list now…….lets forward to Egypt .
Mag and I have a friend..Frankie H. fourth generation Florida cracker…bona fide hardcore country boy and frog eater. Frankie is also an extremely experienced equipment operator and two months ago Frankie went to work a year long project in Egypt. So What?? Well there is a story of Frankie when he worked with my present boss years ago on a construction project in Ft. Pearce. They lived next door to the job and Frankie would fish off the dock like me and ended up with the same constant one that got away story as mine. Frankies battle lasted five months of ever losing his up graded and tougher tackle until he set up a rig of steel cable attached to a truck tire that was lashed securely to the end of the dock. One morning after five months the crew was awakened an hour early as they heard Frankies track hoe fire up in the darkness……Frankie needed it to drag his four hundred lb prize to the waters edge by the truck tire……
I’m not certain I know how far I want to take this , but I’m pretty certain I don’t have access to a track hoe.
hope to see you guys soon
Rich
- Fish on
