Catching Shrimp

They say catching shrimp is addicting. Folklore describes this phenomenon as a fever that rages within our blood with the most prominent symptom being brain “disorientation”. Maybe it is this “disorientation” that explains why anglers back down their boats with their headlights on knowing  they are blinding those waiting at the top of the staging area.

Name one person you know that has never found that “blinding Jesus moment” a major source of irritation. This same irritation can set a path towards an upwelling of anger. A definite demeanor change within us craving an immediate need response to punish back. Right or wrong, this is our “reasoning” mechanism. A mechanism laying the ground work for an “angler to angler” event of escalation often fueled by the need to be right. To bystanders looking on, this is some good rubberneck ramp TV knowing no resolution will come to this disagreement, just a whole lot words and tone inflections.

These moments of ramp rage are short lived. Sometimes pulling out a cigarette and fussing with a failing disposable lighter brings a timely distraction to get us out of a heated moment. To a bystander surely we appear one tomato short of being a healthy salad.

The yellow brick road is the bridge at the ramp that takes us between water and land. The desire to be in Oz is 100 yards away with a gradual sloping towards the river edge.  We just have to tie a knot at the end of our temper & hold on till our turn queue’s up. Our turn signifies our  forward movement between our physical and emotional state of being. The sounds of T-10 resonate in our thoughts. We are next to go and we are anxious to be off to see the wizard. The anticipation of going out on the river this night has been the olive branch we needed to get through a mundane day. This need for tranquility mixed with 2 parts adventure infuses morale deep within us acting as the knot we tie and hang onto as the boat separates from the trailer bunks.

Our inner core is so regimented on land that our actions and thought processes our meticulous & driven by obsessive compulsive tendencies. We have no concerns how we impact others, it is always about us. We create our own chaos from the time the alarm wakes us up until we give ourselves permission to rest. Somewhere between those 2 worlds lies our moral fabric which does not come into play on the river. We have no need for such a compass to navigate our behavior as Captain’s of our boats.

When we retail shop and secure an item that has the smallest of blemishes, we immediately want a merchandise markdown. A righteousness within us where we can hold a gun to the head of retail. When we find an item damaged we look at it as a negative and look for markdown compensation.  Yet, in the  same store we can shop the clearance sections & purchase damaged goods and look at it as  a positive. Go figure.

Yes, it must be this “disorientation” we bring from land into our river decision. We throw caution to wind with no concern does the risk of going out this night outweigh the benefit for having done so. Why are we so driven to go pull shrimp in the dead of night, 40 degree weather, cold air, wind chop and call that a great time? What is so intriguing that we stay up all night, drive long distances, search under cushions for gas money and sign our lives away with the significant others (promising Honey Do’s) to set us free for the evening?

Why? We are addicted.

Do we need all the shrimp we catch? No.

Do most of us have our freezers packed to the max? Yes.

Do we set a quit date once the shrimp run small. Yes.

Do we still engage in the chase well passed that quit date? Yes.

Why? We are addicted.

We are addicted to the down time. Leaving  land and steaming down the river in pursuit of the “chase” seems to numb us right out of our reality. For the moment, we have total mind separation and no longer feel connected to our life, job or anything competing for our mind share & energies. We are free of obligations, stale routines & boredom . That same shopping mentality our parents imprinted within us goes into a state of  reprieve. Tonight within our thought processes we are prepared to emotionally write a check for all the mishaps that may be forthcoming (boat failure, gear losses etc.)

As soon as we push the boat off the trailer and initiate a vehicular forward movement to a parking spot, we shed the attributes that define us –  we are no longer a parent, partner, employee, family member, friend etc. What ever roles or needs we fill for others lifts off our shoulders and the crosses we carry on our backs don’t seem to be so heavy. Some call this moment of impact “spiritual” and perhaps there is some truth to this. Maybe this is when we become one with the river…. which I affectionately call  6 degrees of separation.

For some reason we change when we are on the river. We have more patience and understanding. We are ready to offer assistance to any boater, a stranger who is bonded to us by common interest. Yet, on land we do not even know our neighbors that live next door.  We are guarded when on land yet so open and giving on the water. We embrace the night time isolation and feel violated when a another boater anchors in our space. We do not judge the wild life and the wild accepts us unconditionally in their habitat not realizing we are also predators. The silence on the river is comforting with an occasional sound of “white” noise from birds squawking,  dolphins splashing, fish popping & shrimp snapping. It does not take much to capture our attention when something rises above the white noise or light that screams through the silence of darkness.

Is that a boat approaching ? Can they see me? I cannot see them? Is that a barge off in the distance? The thought of a barge sets in a motion a collision of emotions that sits in the pit of our stomach. Is my night over now? Will the shrimp be torn up and shutdown. Don’t tell me I have to go home.

All our senses sharpen, and we go into analytic mode to determine if the background noise or intrusive light poses a threat. Funny how we lead such a simple life on the river, we don’t need indoor plumbing, hot meals or any form of entertainment gadgets. We kinda like the whole Daniel Boone rough it concept. Our needs are real simple. But as soon as we get back on land we are driven back to a life of chaos kicked off by our need to look for our car keys and smart phone to see what we missed. Yes, we are all just that self important.

On a boat we reach for our snacks we bought on the way to the river from a convenience store. We swing our hoop for hours and work up quite the appetite. We reach into our store bag for a stale sticky bun with the icing melted into the package. We have  no problem choking down the dry breading with a swallow of warm water, flat soda or cold coffee. But to us in that moment of hunger- that was the best pastry in the world . It was flawless and much appreciated as it hits the spot. On land had we eaten that stale sticky bun, we would be looking for a refund from management for having sold us a disgusting piece of garbage. We would rush to judgement making a note to self to NEVER consider that pastry purchase ever again. It sucked.

We fall on our boats, we have trailer breakdowns on the side of the roads, we lose our glasses, phones and gear into the river. We prop foul our engine & naturally our engines fail at the worst times. Our crank batteries go dead and we have no means to call for help because we forgot our phone in the car. Does that discourage us? Nope.

Why? We are addicted.

When we drive home we feel rejuvenated, does not matter how many things went wrong. We cannot wait to go again, and seem to disregard the negative moments as a glancing blow. But now that we are on land, we change back to that “other” person, the person who complains about gas prices, food prices, insurance rate increases etc.. The person with worry and pressures, responsibilities and more month than money. Murphy law knows exactly when we have a little money saved up, and this law is considered an entity far more powerful than any law of physics surrounding the moon phase.

But as we near our home, our memory begins to process our adventure causing us to a crack an involuntary smile. We have a full  bucket of river crickets riding in the back seat. If you add up our time and out of pocket costs & mishaps, each gallon of shrimp cost us about $40 a gallon (5lbs). We have NO problem with that price. To us, we shopped wisely that night. We must now begin the next phase, the task of preserving our catch in some kind of refrigeration so we can end our night. It is not long, and we the warrior have fallen down into a hard sleep. The next day our bodies are broken and we have to begin the arduous task of cleaning and sorting our catch trying to push through the day after shrimping hangover.

When our loved ones reunite with us as we appear unscathed, they are quick to ask us how did your night go?  We light up in the moment and say, “Perfect ….It went just fine, Honey”

The first moment we get alone in the house, we start making arrangements to replace any of the stuff we lost to the river or schedule an appointment to get our boat fixed that had to be towed back to port. Some things just do not need to be spoken.

Why? We are addicted.