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The Chupacabra and the Homeless
You lose it all and you end up in a "van down on the river". Not here. Not on this river. This isn't
L.A. where all you need is some slick chatter and a rough look and you can get by. There's people down here.
And things. Hiding. From Fresno law. From people. From themselves. They drop down over the bluff though their
own twighlight zone down to the river where they imagine they have escaped. But be under no illusion, although escaped
they feel cornered. Both people and thing. There is a concentration here, the eyes in the unseeing buildings teetering
atop the north and south bluffs. Can they see you? DO they see you? Are you really hiding? Out of
the Urban Pressure, sort of into the wild, but in a shopping center in 10 minutes. Owls, eagles, beavers, badgers, coyotes
and even chupacabras - they understand our boundaries. We don't know theirs. This is a strange
backwater, really too close to a big town.
In this page, I will post the odder bits of riverine clatter that passes through the bait shop. The trucks that
plummet over the bluff on fire. The strange ranting man in a 1980 fireman's jacket claiming he used to be a lawyer and knows
the judge. The odd tales of an intrepid game warden and the bizzare stories of fisherman, fresh off the river, claiming
to be sober........
March 15, 2008
I really really wish we had a photo of this. Or better yet a video. I will leave out the name of the fisherman
as he is already enormously embarrassed by all this. But let me call him Sam.
Sam was fishing quietly from a float tube in the Old Muddy - yep, the pond known as the home of the "Old Muddy
Monster" a giant catfish. Suddenly he had a big large-mouth bass on the line that leapt out of the water. Sam
thought we was going to play the fish a bit, but his line remained slack. He kept realing it in waiting for the tension
and jerk of the bass trying to get away. Too late he realized the darned fish was heading straight for him. As
it raced towards him Sam frantically began trying to pull the determined fish away from his tube. With a final
sprint the bass continued its charge and succeeded in impaling the hook's edge in Sam's float tube. The tube began losing
air rapidly and Sam began struggling to keep himself and his gear above water as he worked toward shore. Treading water
in a float tube with boots and water filled waders was too much for Sam and he went under. He clumsily resurfaced and
floundered, red-facedtoward shore to the amusement and cheers of other fisherman on the bank. The bass was nowhere to
be found! So now, in addition to the legendary Muddy Monster we have a real Attack Bass out there! Beware and
good fishing.
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A little too fast, a little too dark, maybe some hooch involved..........he didn't quite see the 30 foot drop ahead where
the levy washed out. He did have enough sense to sit perfectly still and never took his foot off the brake and called
for help. Fortunately, we hadn't yet closed and were only 15 minutes away. The average tow bill had a big truck
come down and cabled him up starts at $150.......could have been MUCH worse had he gone completely over! And wet!
What was this fella thinking? He missed the ramp.....he was facing the wrong way.......forgot the boat........and
kept going? This one is a real stumper. We are going to have to call it "cab-fishing". Or perhaps "truck-netting".
It was 5 hours before his truck was pulled out. Dont be this guy!
Yep - that left rear wheel is more than a foot in the air! Guess where the front right was..........
February 2005 The Misadventure of Zim
Zim, 18, of Fort Brag, CA, new to the area, borrowed a kayak and decided to float from Friant down to Highway 99. Around
4:30 in the afternoon he reached the culverts above Sycamore Island. He portaged around these and arrived in what we
call "Pond 1" where he proceeded to paddle into what he thought was the river. Missing the outlet of the pond and going
around the spur in the far west he arrived at what he correctly found was a dead end, whereupon, he portaged once again into
Pond 2. (completely landlocked!) Somewhere in the adventure Zim capsized his small craft. Now, in the very
late and wanning afternoon sun he disembarked for a look around. To his consternation he found he was surrounded by
water on three sides and had no idea where he was and which was the "correct" river to portage into. Fortunately, he chose
none of the above and was found wandering about the ranch by the Baitmaster, searching for a telephone. Of course, there wasn't
one and he was still a day's travel from his destination. Bewildered, he accepted a dry sweatshirt and a cold beer while
trying to call his "ride" from the Baitmaster's cell phone. Having a bit of fun with the lad I informed him that he was trespassing
and that his borrowed kayak was on private property, but not to worry, as a homeless fellow had probably already found it
and was sailing speadily away to his secret bamboo hooch. After nearly an hour Zim succeeded in reaching what I can best describe
as his drunk uncle, who insisted that he not write the directions down to get out to the ranch. Of course, he never
made it, turning down a dirt road in the dark and arriving at a standstill a half mile away on "Crazy Joe's" ranch. Crazy
Joe prefers to treat all visitors as criminal tresspassers and greet them with a shotgun. I understand that it really isn't
even his ranch. IN any case, Zim and I fetched his kayak from down on the bank, loaded it into the pick-up and found his uncle
with a gal up in the field, with a van. Most interesting. The front right tire was blown out. He and Zim
got the spare out from under the back, and then found the jack in the van was not big enough to lift the vehicle. Moreover,
the tire iron wouldn't go on the nuts because of the size of the wheel hub. Hmmm. Uncle swore a bit and then proceeded
to beat the crap out of the wheel hub with the tire iron. My truck jack was able to fit the van and up it came. Enter
Crazy Joe. He roared across the field and demanded to know who the hell and what the hell, etc. He reminded all that
we were tresspassers and illiterate and morons and idiots. "I'm working as fast as I can", Uncle said, big-eyed, from
the mud beside the van. I asked CJ if he would help these unfortunates. He only muttered incoherently, unlocked an access
gate and took off in his truck. Presently, Zim had the spare put on, the kayak was heaved into the back, and off they went.
I loaded my pipe and looked about in the now quiet dirt field.. CJ was no doubt watching with a night vision scope. I
was glad he went home. I drove out, slowly locked his gate behind me, and went home to a late dinner. And that
was the story of "Zim the Adventurer".
Alligator Siting
Three fisherman had fished most of the day out of a pond and decided to finish out the day fishing along the bank of
the river. They were above the south bridge and on the northern bank. As evening set in all three walked into the bait
shop a bit wild-eyed. Scott B. was the spokesman. "There's a bunch of half-eaten and chewed up fish on the bank. And
then we saw it. It swam over and looked at us. It wasn't a beaver or a fish. We think it was an alligator! We
just thought we should report it." Unfortunately, they did not have a camera. They have persisted in their story despite
being unmercifully teased by the locals. The game warden mentioned that it might be true as he suspected there to be
several in the area, released into the river after they became too big for pets.
Three weeks later two more people came in the bait shop claiming to have seen an alligator.
I am not quite sure what to think. This looks like a great place to be an alligator. But the water, at about 50
degrees seems too cold for this. Then again, we DO have turtles a foot wide, catfish nearly 4 feet long and 50 lb carp enjoying
the cool water. Why not a croc? What do you think?
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| He looks pretty sneaky, don't he? |
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