Still Fishing in The Florida Keys

Two weeks ago I visited my life long friend, Bill Key, who was vacationing with his wife Kathleen and our good friend Anthony Rodriquez in the Florida Keys. Yes, I went to see the Keys in the Keys.

I flew in to Key West airport Monday and the next day Bill and I left the beach house around 7:00 AM to explore this unique chain of islands which makes a long hook from the Florida mainland for about 80 miles south then westward into the Gulf of Mexico. The day was devoted to nothing more than leisurely driving and stopping to investigate anything that looked interesting. The only real business that need to be done was to find a fishing guide to hire for Wednesday. We were especially interested in the back-country fishing, a term used for fishing the Gulf side of the Keys, as opposed to the Atlantic side which is referred to as offshore fishing.

We finally located a guide and explained that we wanted to try fishing in the shallow back-country flats. This type of fishing turned out to be the guide’s favorite way to fish and we agreed to meet him at the marina the next morning at 7:30.

We met the next morning as planned and wasted no time getting started. After clearing the no-wake area at the marina we stayed between the channel markers on to open water, made a 180 degree turn and went under a bridge that supports the highway. We picked up speed to about 30 MPH and enjoyed the ride past millions of mangroves.

The guide will be known as simply "Guide” so that if he reads this story he will not be offended. And, you never know, the next time we go fishing on short notice he may again be the only unoccupied guide in Monroe County Florida. But as you read along please bear in mind that Guide is a person that impressed Bill so favorably that he decided to trust him with our lives.

Please allow me to explain this fishing technique. Most hunters are familiar with the term “still hunting” as a technique of hunting that involves moving stealthily in order to spot game animals before they spot the hunter. It is great sport that employs all of the senses, patience and constant visual surveillance. Fishing these flats in ultra clear water is sometimes referred to as sight fishing or still fishing. This involves the skills of keeping the boat, tackle, and fishermen undetected so that you see the fish before it sees or hears anything suspicious. Then all you have to do, while remaining undetected in water only two feet deep, is to cast and place the live bait about three feet in front of the fish. Theoretically, if you have made it this far, the fish will take the bait and the fight is on.

The information above was gathered in a period of about tree hours with little help from Guide. It turned out that the combination of few pounds of snuff a heavy accent, like none I've heard before, put Guide in a condition that made his speaking skills practically nil. I would have felt better informed if he had been hopelessly mute.

In order to see the fish better the skiffs have a platform built at the back where one can stand with a long pole and push the boat about with the motor raised. Guide was doing this very thing when I heard him whisper, "nerouswuter" and point to the one o'clock position. Fortunately I looked in the direction he was pointing and saw a bonefish swimming with its dorsal fin and tail above the water (this behavior is called tailing or fining by those who can speak). I immediately learned why many say that the Florida bonefish is the fastest of all saltwater game fish. This one ran over 200 yards so quickly that it would have surely melted the drag on a cheap reel.

Guide then jumped off his perch and began yelling some of the most alarming noises I’ve heard since the time I witnessed a young lady attempting natural child birth without anesthesia. In spite of all the chaos, I really had fun landing my first bonefish with my friend Bill’s help. While Guide was trashing around at the stern of the skiff trying to remove a machete from his belt with tobacco juice now running down the front of his shirt, Bill boated the fish, removed the hook and released the fine specimen.

We continued fishing the shallows until we caught our fare share of fish. Around 3:30 we decided it was time to leave this wonderful playground so Guide took us back to the marina.

The water around the Florida Keys is as clear as any I’ve ever seen. The shoreline and the land have been kept pristine and everyone there seems to respect nature. The Key Deer are protected by the Federal Government but fortunately the Key Limes aren’t.

The short time I spent with my friends on and around Sugarloaf Key was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.

Oh, by the way, I looked through an Annapolis book of sailing terms and I feel fairly sure that “nerouswuter" translates into nervous water.

The Gilbert Boys

During my childhood I heard stories about my great grandfather and his father being cowboys and Indian fighters. A good many of these stories came from my best friend and grandfather, Colonel Robert (Bob) Gilbert.Only recently have I found any documentation or clarification of these tales. The first document came to me by way of my aunt, Belva Gray, in the form of a scrap of newspaper which had been scanned and sent to me by email. M.C. Gilbert was my great grandfather and I met him only once when he was 90 years old. I have included an image of the above mentioned article here but have also located a transcript of that September 21, 1934 article from the Abilene Reporter News which I have copied here because it is easier to read:

Abilene Reporter NewsAbilene, Taylor Co., TexasSeptember 21, 1934Life of Pioneer Adventure Reviewed by Mack Gilbert, Still a Cowboy at Seventy by M. H. PRUITT
When “an old Texas cowboy” or anyone else for that matter reaches three score and ten of life, it is about time for him to settle town. This is the philosophy of Mrs. M. C. GILBERT, concerning her husband, “MACK” GILBERT, who still has the desire t ride broncs and rope calves. The Gilberts recently celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary in their home west of View. The day was quietly spent. They are planning a belated celebration when all seven children expect to attend. Mr. Gilbert lays claim to a unique record. He has ridden horseback in every count of Texas with only one exception, and he visited that county in a truck some years ago, spending a winter on the Perdanales River, hunting and fishing. “Kid Mack” Gilbert has twirled his lariat over the backs of little doggies to big Brahma steers from the Rio Grande to Dodge City, Kansas and from Silver City, New Mexico to Fort Worth. Even now, should the occasion arise, and with Mrs. Gilbert’s consent, the veteran cowhand probably could the “starch” out of a broncho on most any frosty morning. When he was fifteen, Mr. Gilbert spent three years, 1879, ’80 and ’81, ten miles above Sweetwater. The ranch headquarters were located where Plum Creek intersects the Clear Fork, but its cowboys were scattered all over the country. Besides the vast herds of buffalo roaming the country then, Mr. Gilbert said, there was an abundance of turkey, deer, and other wild game. “I killed my first and only buffalo in ’83,” the pioneer related. “I was riding along early one morning up near Sagerton. Three buffalo, a mother, her calf and a heifer ran out of the brush just ahead. For fun I rode after them. My horse was swift, but they ran faster. After a quarter mile race, the heifer dropped a little behind. I roped her and wished later I had let her go. She was a two year old and stouter than the average bull. After exhausting my horse trying to let her loose, I finally managed to wind the rope around a mesquite tree. Going to the ranch I borrowed a gun and killed the buffalo.The year 1883 brought the first wire fence to west Texas, he recalls. Previous to that, Mr. Gilbert stated it was open range from Weatherford to the North Canadian River. Drift fences, 100 miles in length, began to appear, and a short while later were numerous. In the early eighties, the “wildest” towns in the west were Dodge City, Kansas and San Angelo. Mr. Gilbert made his last long drive to Dodge City in 1882. In the herd were 3000 head of cattle and four months were required to make the trip. They took the old McKinnie trail, leading out by the Double Mountains in Stonewall County. Northeast of Paducah at Doan’s Store was located a trading post. Buffalo Bill with his hunting crew of 20 men were stationed here. They were killing buffalo for the hides. Cody was described as being handsome, friendly but conversed very little. “My last cattle drive to Dodge City happened without any special event,” said Mr. Gilbert, “unless you’d call that Oklahoma affair something special. As I said, we got the 3000 head of cattle across the river into Oklahoma alright. But there the Spanish fever struck the herd and they started dying. We lost 500 head within two weeks. Then the herd started to improve. We had been camped there 17 days.”“That night I was guard, riding herd, a good distance from camp. About 11:00 a group of riders rode up and asked if those were JOHN ROBERTS’ cattle. When I answered they were, the men dismounted and bedded for the night. I did not know what to make of it.”“The next morning when they had saddled, the leader sought out Roberts. The man told our boss he was owner of the Lazy H Ranch directly to the north. He had come, he said, with his men, to help drive our herd of sick cattle around his range. The distance was 50 miles out of our way.”“John Roberts refused to take the circuit route. When he did, the owner of the Lazy H threw his gun in Roberts’ face and told his own men to start rounding up the cattle. He also told us that we were working for him. If we didn’t like it, he said, then was the time to say so. I was a kid, just 18, but I, for one, liked it. So did the other cowboys.”“We were five days making that 50 miles.” Mr. Gilbert said. “On the third day, JOHN Roberts, the ‘prisoner,’ was released and from then on rode alongside his “abductor.” Once on the other side of the Lazy H, the proprietor gave Roberts $50 and bid us adios.”M. C. GILBERT was the second child born in Eastland County in 1864. At the age of 5, he witnessed the battled between 40 Indians and 9 white men, in which his father, SAM GILBERT, was so badly wounded, he succumbed three months later. “My father was one of the first settlers in Eastland County,” said Mr. Gilbert. “He was captain of the fort at ELLISON Springs which is about 20 miles southeast of where Cisco now stands. Other families there besides our own were ANCIL BEARDEN, JACK and HUGH BRASHER/BRESHEAR, JIM ELLISON, BILL MCGOUGH, my uncle “SING” GILBERT, and a lad ‘BUTTOM” KEITH.”“It was one spring morning in 1869 that we discovered our horses had been stolen,” the pioneer continued. “Right off the reel we knew it was Indians. At that time there were two troublesome tribes to the north. The Kiowas were camped below Lueders, near old Fort Griffin. The Comanches were gathered on the Wichita River near old Chalk Hill.”“On this particular morning a man from the fort at Old Mocassin Rock in Erath County brought word that the Kiowas had stolen horses there. He had followed their trail to our fort. He was seeking aid and wanted our men to take up the trail.”“The little band of eight men, under the command of my father, set out in pursuit of the marauders. The trail headed for the camp on the Clear Fork. About where Cisco is now, the white men found the Kiowas had been joined by the Comanches. Perhaps elated over the successful raid of the Kiowas, the two tribes started back for Moccasin Rock. This time the trail veered from the one which we had followed. Probably that the reason we missed them.”Anxiety of the men increased as the Indians’ trial swung back toward the fort. For it was unguarded and its inhabitants were women and children, including Mr. Gilbert, then a child of 5. But let him tell the story:“Only a short distance from our fort the Indians stopped to eat dinner. We did not know they were there until we heard the shooting when the white men came upon the. Later we learned how the battle began. “On locating the Indians, father gave orders for no one to fire until he gave the command. But Button Keith, 16 years old, was eager for the right. He disregarded orders by spurring his horse forward, shooting at the Indians to the right and left. Once through the surprised redskins, he wheeled the horse and came riding back, repeating the performance. “An arrow in the breast stopped the youth’s mad ride. As he fell, immediately half a dozen savages with knives leaped for his help. “My uncle, SING GILBERT, galloped from the group to rescue the dead body. Reaching down from his horse, he was shot, the arrow piercing below the left shoulder blade. He straightened up, as if mystified, then slumped over the saddle horn, dead. “Father then ordered his men to charge and the fight was on in earnest. The Indians retreated out in the open and we could see them from the fort. Uncle Sing’s horse walked slowly from the scene of the battle with his dead master still on his back. The animal did not stop until it had reached the fort gate.”SAM GILBERT led his eight men against the 40 howling, horrible warriors to avenge his brother’s death. The captain had never taken his eyes from that burly blanketed from which had come the death arrow. Straight to that individual rode the white man. He drew aim on the rider of the plunging pinto pony. The Indian received the charge in the hip and fell. As he took aim to fire again, Sam Gilbert, in turn, was shot. A poisoned arrow had pierced his knee. Death came to him three months later in Lampasas. “The battle ended,” Mr. Gilbert said, “when the Indians ran out of arrows about the same time the white men’s ammunition played out. They were fighting hand to hand encounters, with clubs and fists. My mother ran from the fort with a pouch of ‘shot.” When the Indians saw what she carried, they retreated. “Several days after the battle, my father grew worse,” continued Mr. Gilbert. “The nearest doctor was at Lampasas 110 miles away. We made that long journey with him on a bed pulled by a yoke of oxen.”

Now here’s an article about the previous generation of “Gilbert Boys”. My great great grandfather, Sam, was Sing (Singleton) Gilbert’s brother:


ELLISON SPRINGS INDIAN FIGHT. The Ellison Springs Indian Fight took place on August 9, 1864, near Ellison Springs in Eastland County, in Maj. George Bernard Erath'sqv Second Frontier District. It was typical of the kind of small-unit actions that occurred on the frontier during the Civil War.qv Lt. Singleton Gilbert was in command of citizens of Eastland, Callahan, and Shackelford counties, who formed a company stationed at Nash Springs, three miles northwest of the site of present-day Gorman. On August 8, 1864, he sent out a squad of eight men, led by Cpl. James L. Head; they left camp for a ten-day scouting foray and the next morning came upon fresh Indian signs between the sites of future Cisco and Eastland. Moving southward, they followed a trail made by an estimated thirty to fifty Indians for more than twenty miles before overtaking the party at a ranch several miles west of Gorman, near Ellison Springs. Head promptly retreated to the Gilbert ranch, a few miles away, to where Gilbert brought recruits. Gilbert's arrival provided a force totaling twelve to sixteen troopers to face thirty to thirty-five Indians. Gilbert ordered a frontal assault against the Indians, a number of whom were on foot carrying blankets and bridles to be used on the horses they planned to steal. The charge fell back before a withering fire that killed Gilbert and two other Texans, wounded three more, and left no Indian casualties. The Indians left the field unimpeded by the Texans. This was the only unsuccessful Indian engagement of the summer for Erath's command. The Texans continued to trail the Indians, however, and managed to recover eighteen horses out of approximately fifty that the Indians stole near Stephenville. Several days after the Eastland County men ended their pursuit, Sgt. A. D. Miller, whose eight-man squad was due north of Eastland in Stephens County, came upon a party of at least twenty Indians northwest. These were probably the main body of the party attacked earlier by Gilbert's men. Miller followed the trail for fifteen miles, overtook the Indians, and attacked. In a one-hour battle, with no loss to themselves, Miller's men killed two Indians, wounded three, and captured seventy-three horses, seven saddles, and an assortment of bridles and blankets, thus bringing to a close the brief campaign that began in Eastland County.
BIBLIOGRAPHY: Charles Goodnight et al., eds., Pioneer Days in the Southwest from 1850 to 1879 (2d ed., Guthrie, Oklahoma: State Capitol, 1909). Carolyne Lavinia Langston, History of Eastland County (Dallas: Aldridge 1904). Joseph Carroll McConnell, West Texas Frontier (Vol. 1, Jacksboro, Texas, 1933; Vol. 2, Palo Pinto, Texas, 1939).
David Paul Smith
The text on the Historical Marker image is hard to read so here’s what it says:

Used for centuries by Indians inhabiting the region. Named for James Madison Ellison (1840-1923), a native of Alabama, who was the first settler in this section of Eastland County, erecting a cabin near the springs in Oct. 1958. He soon married Eliza McGough, a member of another pioneer family, and had 3 children. During the Civil War, frontiersmen organized militia companies for mutual protection against the Indians. Ellison joined the company mustered from Eastland, Shackelford, and Callahan Counties. On Aug. 9, 1864, a group of 12 scouts from the company was attacked near the springs, and took refuge in Ellison's cabin. The commander, Capt. Singleton Gilbert, and Leroy "Button" Keith were killed, and Ellison, Tom Gilbert, and Tom Caddenhead wounded. Ellison was disabled for life. After cessation of Indian activity, Ellison Springs became the center of social and cultural functions for the scattered settlers in the area. Picnics, community gatherings, and brush arbor camp meetings were held at the site. In the early 1870s, a Baptist church was constructed, with the Rev. C. Brashears as minister. A cemetery was begun in the mid-1870s. The present frame house at the springs was built by Ellison in 1886.
1974
location: From Gorman take FM 8 about 3.5 miles, on north side of highway

That’s about all I know about those old boys for right now except that somehow I feel that a trace of their pioneering spirit and desire for adventure and travel is in my blood.

Exploiting Apaches for Profit

I just read an article written in the June 2009 issue of 'Cowboys and Indians' magazine by Kathy Wise concerning Apache Skateboards.
It seems rather odd that none of the Indians in the photographs are smiling. I have been around Mescalero Apaches for over a half century and they smile a lot. Same goes for the various Pueblo Indians I’ve known in New Mexico .
They have a lot to smile about because they know how lucky they are to have a choice between the culture of the red man and that of the white man. They also get preferential treatment should they choose get a college education and get money from the U.S. Government each month whether they work or not.
Maybe the people of San Carlos are different than other Indians but I doubt it
There was a statement made about Miles being concerned about “owning the new imagery without being culturally hijacked”. The imagery shown in the magazine isn’t new. It appears to be a combination of ‘70’s era biker graffiti, amateur reproductions of old photos of Geronimo, and some designs similar to those found on Mimbres pottery
The only thing that has happened here is that an Apache emulated some material that he dredged up and modified slightly. The "new" art then instantly becomes images of Apache culture by a writer who is trying to portray an indigenous group of Americans as perpetual victims.
Unless Mr. Miles and his tribe are very naïve, which I strongly doubt, they were most likely embarrassed or even angered that this elitist publication couldn’t find some more worthy achievements than skate boards to merit an entire article,
Shame on you Kathy Wise.

The Mountains

Very early in my life “the mountains” became a near magical term that evoked visions of freedom, solitude and the magnificence of nature. I always looked forward to going to the wonderful mountains. During difficult times, when the anxieties of urban life begin to close in on me, I need only to find a quiet moment to conjure up one or more of these pleasant memories and I am able to view my life from a different perspective and remember life doesn’t have to be nerve-racking. I begin to slow down and think more clearly with the knowledge that escape is possible and I am never really trapped in this urban madness where I, for some reason, make my home.


In the mountains one is removed from the confusing society which has evolved in big cities. Our minds are allowed to settle into a slower pace as we tend to the activities which are basic to our simplest needs.  Physical activity in cleaner thinner air allows us to be free  in a life style that of the image we have of ourselves in a relatively new era of human beings.
 
Any place you can go and be away from the din of automobiles, sirens, televisions and the sound of people's voices can be you place for meditation and clear thought.
 
 I prefer the Desert Mountains that straddle the continental divide from the interior of Mexico, past the Yellowstone River, through Montana and into Canada. There are snow capped peaks that I am able to identify more than a hundred miles away when the clear crisp air allows better visibility than most people can imagine. God is closest to me up around the timberline. He and I can converse in our own special way where the air is clean and pure.

I have visited other mountains in the East and though they are beautiful and green, they just don’t have the spiritual appeal to me that the mountains in the west have.



God is omnipresent and I can speak to him from any where in the world but I he created the Southern Rockies in New Mexico to be our own special meeting place. So there is where I long to be. Yes, there in the place where the mule deer and the diamond make their homes.

Quoted From Barry Goldwater

Now, my fellow Americans, the tide has been running against freedom. Our people have followed false prophets. We must, and we shall, return to proven ways-- not because they are old, but because they are true. We must, and we shall, set the tide running again in the cause of freedom. And this party, with its every action, every word, every breath, and every heartbeat, has but a single resolve, and that is freedom - freedom made orderly for this nation by our constitutional government; freedom under a government limited by laws of nature and of nature's God; freedom - balanced so that liberty lacking order will not become the slavery of the prison cell; balanced so that liberty lacking order will not become the license of the mob and of the jungle.
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Tumbleweeds by Dennis Sumrak is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.