An entertaining thing to do is just sit by the dock on a Friday afternoon. 

Last Friday, I was out at the Boat House on Lake Oconee. You know the place. In the old days it was a catfish joint and now it’s got storage and gas right off the backside of Harbor Club. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I was out peddling boats. Which for me means I talk a lot. Not a stretch to those who know me.

Well, a good friend of mine from Henry County was camping with his wife, and they stopped by to say hello. Another good friend, whom I met by buying his old Pathfinder Bay boat last year, came over to work on his pontoon, which meant I chatted and helped him a little. Well, maybe we just stopped working all together and talked is a more accurate description. Then I met a guy who had been a vice cop in Miami in the ‘70s up till just a few years ago. What an interesting life he had led!

Imagine seeing the Cocaine Cowboy days up close and personal, the boat chases, car chases and shootings of the ‘70s and ‘80s in Miami. Imagine being the commander on the scene of the Versace murder and the suicide of the murderer. Seeing the Cuban immigrants flooding in, the Haitians, the Dominicans. Miami is the last of the wild pirate towns some people say and to be honest for a long time that was not too far from the truth, and we aren’t talking that long ago either. These days while it’s lost a lot of the wildness it’s still one of my favorite cities. The food, music, coffee, cigars, oh man!!! And it’s got great fishing too!

But back on track … I have always had a fascination with the rise of the drug trade in the late ‘60s through the 90s. Probably because I grew up watching Miami Vice, Magnum PI, Rockford Files, and the like. I remember going to Florida in the early ‘80s and seeing mullet and crab fishermen with huge gold and diamond bracelets, brand new caddies, and big houses. For a short time, I honestly thought that the fishing business was a sure ticket to wealth untold! However, I quickly learned they were running in loads for the Columbians, Mexicans, Cubans, etc. I have friends who did time for running for Pablo, whose fathers died in Columbia on bad airstrips, or got their start in life by running in enough dope to pay for their skiffs or offshore boats then they went legit. The smuggler’s life still has an appeal it seems. In fact, I can see it. The Florida fishing guide life is intertwined with the smuggling life. 

Once, while in Florida on a dolphin trip, we found a “square grouper” and after catching a limit of mahi off it, of course we turned it in to the Coast Guard. We got our limit first! If you don’t know what a Square Grouper is I am sorry … You have led a sheltered and land locked life. I can honestly say, though, that the fish didn’t taste like oregano. I’m personally glad we still have a few renegades, smugglers, pirates, rum runners, old school lawmen and beat cops around. They are always a lot of fun to talk to, no matter which side of the law they worked for.

Tight lines and following seas to all of you!