After 33 years of writing the outdoor column for the San Marcos Record I feel it is time to put away my writing materials. Writing about my outdoor adventures for the Record, many of the stories winning state-wide awards, has been one of the real joys of my life. Thousands of my readers, many who never hunt or fish, have followed my adventures weekly. You have seen pictures of my little children, like Tim who is now 44 years old, in the duck blind with me. Now, it’s my grandchildren who are often my hunting and fishing pals. When my granddaughter, Demaris Darnell, stands on the back seat of the boat casting her flyrod for largemouth bass I can’t believe that she is 18 years old and graduating from high school Saturday. She’s not my “little” fishing partner any longer. She’s 5 foot 11 inches tall. We fished Bastrop Lake yesterday together.
Many of you have traveled with me to Alaska, British Columbia, Vancouver Island, Costa Rica, Belize, Mexico, Uruguay, Saskatchewan and the English Channel off the coast of France. You have been introduced through the years to many of my outdoor friends such as Bobby and Carolyn Whiteside, Wayne and Nancy Smith of Little Rock, Arkansas, my brothers Billy and Wayne Darnell, Randy and Ruth McReynolds of Rosanky, Ronnie Carnes of San Marcos, Mike Mosel of Kyle, Allen Piper of Early, Texas, Upton and his son Terry Ruddock of Gonzales, San Marcos builder, Kenny Masters, and my next door neighbor Tom Ray. Tom and his wife, Cathy, will join my wife, Beth, and I for three days of bayfishing near Aransas Pass next week.
Some of the stories written during the 33 years described real danger. Like the rattlesnake story two years ago during spring turkey season. I stepped on a 6-foot rattler and when he buzzed I leaped straight up. For a 75 year old my vertical jump would have surpassed some of the stars in the NBA. And the bad aspect of the story is that my shotgun was leaning against a fence 15 steps away.
One of my early stories in the 1980’s captured the adventure of walking up on a sleeping 400 pound Russian boar in a mud bog. When he awoke and stood up we were eight steps apart. The 150 grain 30-06 bullet struck him in the shoulder. He went down and bounced back up. Now it was me or him. I was on his hit list. The second bullet hit the shoulder and down he went again, only to rise back up. The third projectile struck him in the neck and he was down for the count.
About 2005 Kenny Masters and I flew into Kodiak Island, Alaska to hunt black tailed deer. At the airport the remains of a hunter half-eaten by a Kodiak brown bear were being received by the hunter’s family. To say the least, our party of six hunters all hunted in pairs. We had each other’s back.
Lots of funny thinks that happen in the outdoors make great stories. Bobby Whiteside and I were fishing for white bass on the Frio River above Choke Canyon Reservior. Near San Miguel Creek we spotted an alligator. Whiteside had fished with me several times in the marsh country in southern Louisiana where we saw many alligators. We actually caught some of them on lures.
“Let’s catch this one,” said Whiteside.
Instantly, Whiteside flipped his plastic worm over a limb and dangled it in the gators face. Leviathan immediately swallowed the worm. When Bobby got him to the boat he asked. “Are you going to grab my gator?”
“Not on your life,” I answered.
He thrust his rod into my hands and grabbed the gator behind the head. The powerful jaws were snapping like crazy. Being an outdoor writer and photographer, I grabbed for my camera.
“Hurry up”, he shouted. “This rascal is bigger than I thought.”
I got a great silhouette image of Whiteside holding the six-foot gator about eye level. Though you couldn’t see Whiteside’s face, everyone who read the story knew it was Whiteside.
Through the years I have taught several novices how to fish and hunt. Thus, many of my stories have had instructions in them that many readers learned from.
Pictures and descriptions of many species of ducks, geese, doves, quail, pheasants, turkeys, white tailed deer, axis deer, black buck antelope, (shot on the LBJ Ranch) and Texas rams have all appeared in my column.
We have fished for largemouth bass and bream from a kayak on the San Marcos, Blanco and Guadalupe Rivers. I still hold several flyrod bass records on these rivers. Coastal Texas bays for redfish, speckled trout black drum and flounder have been the destination of many short trips.
But more exotic destinations made great stories. Like Beth fighting a big tarpon in Belize for over an hour. When she finally brought the 6-foot-long fish to the boat her hand was frozen to the rod handle. We had to pry her fingers from the rod. She was one tired girl.
Many trips to Alaska proved great material for stories about big salmon and bears. Bobby Whiteside and his wife, Carolyn, Beth and I fished the Talkeetna River and all landed big Chinook (King) salmon between 30 and 40 pounds. In a swift current a fish like that is a tough customer. Watching bears fish for salmon near Wrangle at close range was a hoot also.
Beth and I fished for Silver salmon out of Campbell River on Vancouver Island in a 17 foot Boston Whaler. Cruise ships were traveling the famous Discovery Passage between the island and the mainland while we caught our limits of silver salmon on single action flyrods. We also fed eagles with our left over herrings. The eagles were right in our faces.
Camping vacations to Yellowstone Park made great camping, wildlife viewing and fishing stories. Of all the places on planet earth that I have visited I rate Yellowstone as number one. The variety – mountains, geysers, waterfalls, green meadows, canyons, smoking mud pots, bison, elk, bears, wolves – makes it so awesome.
Many of you have watched my Labrador retrievers grow from pups to old dogs though the years. Big Lance, Gunner, laid-back Lady, Genny and my present champion, Annie Oakley, have all been photographed on my duck hunts.
I want to thank the Record for giving me the opportunity to write about my adventures all these years. Actually, I will become the outdoor columnist emeritus and still contribute special stories occasionally. Maybe every six weeks.
To quote a famous American “Old soldiers (outdoor writers) never die. They just wade away.”
It’s been quite a ride. Good night and goodbye.
