Bayou Meto boat race
Thanks Feets for bumping this back up. I thoroughly enjoyed reading back through it. I’ll throw another story on the fire and see if it gets going again.
The week that this picture was taken was Thanksgiving week in 98. I was a sophomore at Clemson and CBriggs and Carolina Boykin were freshmen. It was in the 60’s at daylight, leaves still mostly green on the trees, and the water had come up in early Nov, then dropped back down. There was stagnant water in the woods and fish had gotten trapped in there, died, and were floating everywhere. It stunk to hell. This hole has now become generally accepted by locals as the “Pal” hole after my old man. Lalich and I found it, but I’m not bitter about that at all. This hole is N of south brushy, and 400 yards due south of “Lester’s big hole” which is 500 yards due south of the “Jake” of McCoullough fame. When the water gets up Lester’s hole will crush you if you’re in this one, but on low water, it is deadly. Anyway, this particular week, we were running down brushy, pulling off the run and having to pull the boats. I would jump out with a flashlight and sprint the 400 yards to get the hole first. As the week went on, our shooting attracted a lot of attention and the race got more crowded every day. It sort of became a joke at the ramp about this long legged dude running through the woods so fast. Several times we got beaten to the jumping off point, but I would pass the other folks on foot in the woods. We shot them every day that week, and would some days be down to camo t shirts to pick up decoys. It was the X that entire week. 2 years ago, Chad Andrews who is a buddy of mine and close friend of the Jacksons, is sitting around the fire at Featherhorn shooting the shit. Bayou Meto comes up and out of the blue, a guy he doesn’t know, starts telling these stories about a time in the 90’s that they found ducks but kept getting beat to the hole by “some kid that could walk on water”. Chad said “that kid was Michael Boozer”.
I feel strongly that the outlawing of openly guiding in there was the start of the downfall. The guides and their hole runners were what kept the peace in there. Fairly often a newbie would show up at the ramp thinking he was fast, cause a problem, and it would be handled by the hole boys the next morning. I got my hand slapped or worse before I earned my stripes. It was an old school way of policing idiocy. My old man still rolls out there every so often. We stay in close touch with Boo, who got a cushy job at Slicks with better pay and far better hours. Kirk still rocks himself to sleep playing “Glory Days” and I guess Steve is guiding snapper trips in Gulf Shores. I hope to take my kids out there one day.
Last edited by trkykilr; 03-01-2022 at 08:35 AM.
Them that don't know him won't like him, and them that do sometimes won't know how to take him
He ain't wrong, he's just different, and his pride won't let him do things to make you think he's right
They don't put Championship rings on smooth hands
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