The Funnel

The Funnel

Bossy, Donald, and I left at four o’clock on Holy Saturday morning, and headed down to Hopedale for a two day fishing trip. Hopedale is a small fishing town located in lower southeast Louisiana. It was also one of my grandfathers, Bossy Livaudais, favorite places to go fishing. He had fished these same waters for over sixty years. Bossy knew the area like it was his own backyard. There were times when it seemed he knew it better than the fish.

It was 1987, and I was in my freshman year of high school. My freshman year hadn’t been the best. I was going through that typical awkward time in a teenager’s life when fitting in socially can be quite difficult. I had a serious inferiority complex. One of the contributing factors to this was my getting cut from the freshman baseball team. I also had several dealings with bullies. I felt really down on myself, and I couldn’t recall one good experience during my first year of high school.

We arrived at Dudenheffer’s Boat Launch around five o’clock. We got launched and headed down stream towards the ship channel. It was still a bit dark outside, but you could see the sun coming up along the horizon. The water splashing off of the boat had a pleasant sound to it, and I really enjoyed the morning breezing hitting me in the face.

Bossy always loved to fish from September 15th though May 15th. One of the reasons was because you could catch fish with artificial bait (lures) instead of live bait. Bossy always used these lures called beetles. They were made out of rubber and they came in different colors. They were also easy to switch out.

As we entered the ship channel, Donald, who was driving the boat, put it in full gear. We raced down the channel for about ten or fifteen minutes. Along the way we passed several other boats of fisherman who were also getting an early start. We soon arrived at our first spot the “Evening Point”.

It was always hard to tell whether the names of the spots we fished were the real names on a map or they were ones Bossy had made up. The Evening Point was of those spots.

We fished this spot for probably half an hour and we managed to catch a few speckle trout. Some of the trout were keepers and others were what Bossy called “Bucket Trout,” which were undersized fish that he kept in a little red bucket. He did this just in case if we had a slow day and didn’t catch that many. It was illegal, but Bossy didn’t care.

The next spot we went to was a place Bossy called Mamsacca Lagoon. At this point in the day the trout began to get more and more plentiful; we started catching them at a regular rate, and not very many of them were “bucket” trout. We were catching them all off of the beetles, which made for easy fishing.

So far, it was turning out to be a pretty good trip. The three of us were all catching our share of fish, and the day was still young. We fished to about noon and then we headed over to the camp to unload our things and have lunch. The camp was located in a little area called “Janky’s Ditch”. We unloaded our overnight bags and ate some sandwiches that Donald had made. Donald always seemed to make the best sandwiches. He would make them the night before. They would be on French bread with roast beef and cheese and little Dijon mustard. The sandwiches, along with some dill pickle potato ships, always seemed to hit the spot.

After lunch we sat around and talked. Bossy and Donald talked about old fishing trips. Donald Tejelo was Bossy’s nephew. He was in his late fifties at the time, but Bossy had been taking him fishing since he was a little boy. I recall them talking about their big fishing trip in November. Every year the week before Thanksgiving, Bossy, Donald, and another one of Bossy’s nephews, Jay Becker, would go on a week-long trip of fishing, beer drinking, and good old fashioned male bonding. Bossy would jokingly call this trip his “vacation.”

As we reminisced about old fishing trips, we all got that strong feeling to get back out in the boat and catch fish. We had about seven to eight hours of sunlight left. We could still go out and catch an ice chest full before sundown.

Bossy told Donald the first spot he wanted to hit was a place called “The Funnel”. He said he heard from some of his buddies at Lehrmann’s Bar, that they had been catching a lot of fish at this particular spot. Donald said, “You got it Boss,” we then headed that way.

Bossy’s buddies had been right about the tip. We started catching fish at a regular rate; they were all quality sized speckle trout, too.

I would periodically change my beetle to a different color just to keep the fish honest. I remember Bossy had this white beetle that had seen better days, but he wouldn’t throw it out. He had a little string tied around the neck of it to keep the body from separating from the head. “I can still hear him laughing and saying, “let me pull up its pants”.

Bossy had a great laugh; it was sort of like a cackle. Whenever I got a bite on my line or when someone caught of fish, he would get excited and started laughing. You could hear him laughing all over the lake.

I remember he all of these other little nuances when he went fishing, such as whenever he saw a sea gull flying overhead he always said, “hey Dave!”, like every sea gull’s name was Dave or something. If you had a fish on your line and you lost him right before you could get him in the boat, and then you would say something like, “I thought I had’em”. Bossy would say with a wide-eyed look, “Hey! Get the Mother Fucker in the boat!”, and then he would laugh that crazy laugh. That was his way of saying no excuses. It was always funny how he used to curse like an ol’ sailor when he was fishing, but you would never hear him curse around my grandmother.

I caught four or five speckle trout in about the span of twenty minutes. I was really having a good time. All of sudden I felt a real strong tug on my line. At first I thought I might have caught the bottom, but then I felt it let loose and you could feel the fish running with the bait. The pull was pretty strong. Bossy thought that it might be a sting ray. He had caught one several minutes prior and had to cut his line. I kept telling him that I didn’t think so. I was pretty sure it was a fish; at least I was hoping so.

Despite the fight it was giving me, I kept steadily reeling it in. I couldn’t wait to see this thing when I got it to the surface. Bossy began to think that it might not be a sting ray. “Hey ma’ boy, I think you got a big one,” he said. He kept saying, “Grow boy! Grow!” I could finally see the fish as I got him about three feet from the boat. It was a beauty; it was about a nine to ten pound speckle trout. Bossy and Donald were excited and in disbelief. “Donald, quick, get the net,” Bossy said. Man, it sure felt good reeling that fish in. It was the biggest fish I ever caught. It was hard to believe I caught this beautiful fish on that ratty ol’ white beetle that Bossy wouldn’t throw away.

Bossy was really excited. He kept laughing that wonderful laugh and saying, “Donald I think we got us a fisherman.” I was on cloud nine. I had that feeling like when you hit a homerun in baseball or make the winning shot in basketball.

We continued to fish there for a little while longer, and then we started to move onto some other spots before it got dark. We managed catch quite a bit of fish that afternoon.

Around seven o’clock we arrived back at the camp. We were all pretty famished. Donald had brought his electric knife and immediately starting fileting some of the fish. He left the big one alone so I could bring it home to show my folks.

There’s nothing like the taste of fresh fried fish; it just kind of melts in your mouth. When you eat fish that is that fresh you never get that “gamey” taste.

The three of us sat at the table eating our fish, talking about how great the day was, and listening to the Astros baseball game on the radio. “That boy is a fisherman,” Bossy would say every now and then.

We continued to listen to the radio for a little while after dinner, and then we decided to go to our bunks for the night. It had been a long and busy day and we were all pretty tired. I had trouble getting to sleep at first. I had that restlessness you feel when you’re excited but overly tired. I couldn’t wait for the next day to show my mom, dad, grandmother, and little brother the big trout that I had caught.

Easter Sunday had arrived and we packed up our stuff and locked up the camp. We left out pretty early that morning to get some fishing in before we headed back to the boat launch. We caught a few here and there but nothing like the previous evening. I recall being pretty anxious to get back home, not only to show off my fish, but also to celebrate Easter.

The first stop we made was to Bossy’s house to unload the boat and drop off Donald. We then headed over to my house to celebrate Easter. We brought a whole ice chest full of trout, including the big one, with us.

Everyone was amazed at all the fish we caught. However, they could not get over the big one that I caught. I remember taking pictures with my brother and me holding the big trout. I remember Bossy telling my mom, “Zetty, this boy is a fisherman!” It was a great day not only because of the fish we caught, but my brother and I had also received to pet dwarf bunny rabbits for Easter.

Whenever you went fishing with Bossy, you could name a spot like “The Evening Point” or “Mamsacca Lagoon”, and he could tell you when my Uncle Lonnie, Donald or one of my cousins had caught a big one at a certain location. Or the time he and my dad had caught a huge amount at San Malo back in the ‘70’s. Now I had that such spot in “The Funnel”. In the ensuing years when we went fishing or up until the day Bossy died in 2003, whenever “The Funnel” was mentioned Bossy would look at me and smile and say “remember that’s where you caught that big one.” He never let me forget it.