By Charlotte Byus
As a young wife and Mom, that statement did not mean a thing to me. Will now it does! What started this week’s nonsense was a picture in the latest Saltwater fishing magazine. RR brings the magazine to me and said “look at this,” so I did. I looked at the picture, not where it was from. “Are you believing this!” he said. Marina Del Mar, well sure they are increasing the property in the Clear Lake area. NO! That is Port O’Connor!

My jaw dropped, I got tears in my eyes and then I looked at RR. Somewhere in the back of my brain, and I guess my heart, I remembered those words from my Mom. Nothing stays the Same. Of course, she was taking about the hill country. There were so many new sub-divisions going up in the 70’s and 80′. Charlie Thomas had even built a home and an air strip in Blanco. Dad did not say much, just shook his head. Mom said it all.

RR started fishing Port O’Connor back in the late 50’s and 60’s with his BFF Frank Lenich. It was a small village with one motel, a cafe, and Cap’s boat ramp. After we got married, we started heading for Port O’Connor on Friday evening after work with our Cab-over Camper and boat. Even after the girls were born, that was our get away. Vickie and Grandgirl would keep the girls and off we would go. The fish were plentiful and “Armyhole” was my favorite place to fish. You see, I could watch the world go by, loose my cork, and still have a really big red fish. Every once in a while, RR would have to say to me, CA where is your cork? OH! and I would real in my catch. He was not too happy with me. The hook was somewhere in the fish’s belly, not in its lip. But he loves me, and he would just look at me and go to work on said lure in the fish’s belly. I, of course, would hold his pole and catch another fish. Now he had two to take off. I guess you have figured out it is not my job to take the fish off the hook.

We would stop and go in during the heat of the day to have one of Melba’s hamburgers and take a nap in the camper. Evening fishing was the best. Sometimes, he would take me back to Armyhole for that really big red fish or his trout. You see, I am too slow, on the pole reaction to set the hook to catch a good trout. And most evenings, I would say, just one more! Please!! That would mean he would have to negotiate the zigzag out of the hole and that was not easy with the deep hull boat we had at the time. Sometimes, he would just start the engine and off we would go with my pole still in the water and other times, I could catch that fish and he would take it off the hook when we had cleared the zigzag. Getting back to Cap’s Bait Camp in the dusk was not easy, running across Espiritu Santo Bay and going into the intracoastal as the sun was slowing sinking into the west.

This town barely had 200 hundred people living there, some were shrimpers, old timers who had lived there all their lives, and a few nice homes for retired people.

Now the ICW is covered with million dollar homes owned by people from San Antonio and Austin.

Have a good week.

[6-3-2019]