Brandon Yuchasz
Well-known member
Tom that teal is going to be sexy. Cant wait.
APRIL - What's on your work bench?
- Thread starter Steve Sanford
- Start date
Tom Barb
Active member
Thanks Brandon! I'm not really thrilled with the layout of it but then again I never am. This one is for a donation to an auction benefiting Liam's Lighthouse next month. For the rest of the rig I'm going to take a simpler approach along the lines of wildfowler paint schemes or something like Pat's style.
James Woods
Active member
Dave:
What a great piece. Brings back so many memories, and you are so correct in that the fishery biologists seem to forget about the importance of the menhaden.
Bunker were a part of my life like snapper blues, eeIs on summer nights and black ducks in the salt marsh. As I mentioned in my recent introduction I grew up on the Long Island Sound in the 60s, 70s and 80s and menhaden were omnipresent throughout the Sound.
Two stories: First, I worked on the Bridgeport-Port Jeff Ferry from 1970 to 1981, through part of college and grad school. Bunker boats were all over the Sound in those years. Many were converted WWII vessels, mostly out of New London and Mass. On the Ferry, I worked as a deck hand and in the bar, depending on the time of year.
One early June day, I was at the helm (deck hands do a watch steering and the Captain supervises.) The Captain was part owner, and an extraordinary individual for many reasons. Scion of an old Long Island sea-fairing and shipbuilding family. Graduate of Amherst, and excellent seaman. He was an impressive presence, played football at Amherst as a guard. About 6-1 250 pounds and not really fat just solid. He took after many old-line captains, largely fearless—and instilled a lot of fear and respect—all of which to which I can attest, but stories for another time.
On that warm midafternoon in June, there was a bunker boat, probably a converted destroyer escort coming out of the west. No apparent presence on deck or in the wheelhouse. The bunker boat did not move on the horizon, we were perpendicular to each other, it was headed due east on our port side, and we were headed due north. I recall the first mate or one of the Captains telling me if the ship on a perpendicular course is not moving on the horizon, then you are on a collision course. Never vetted it, don’t know if it is true, but that day we were on a collision course. Cap was of the view we were in the right of way. There was a psychology to captains in those days, you don’t give way when you have the right of way—again at least in those days. Being the kid, 20 years old, and a little concerned—with the bunker boat at 200 yards, I said “Cap, can we give way?’ “Nah, fuck him, was his response.” At about 50-100 yards, the DE bunker boat swerved hard to the port-North in our direction, we missed each other by 30 yards. A large black man emerged from the wheelhouse, belly laughing and yelled “Just joking, Mannnn,” in a West Indian or Carribean accent.
Second Bunker Story.
In the late 70s in Port Jeff, I was still working on the Ferry. In the fall after the summer season I returned to being a deck hand. Would get to the ferry around 5:45 for a 6:00 am departure if I recall correctly. That year and for several years around that time, at dawn the Harbor would be breaking bunker for two miles out to the entrance and breakwater. The South of the harbor where the ferry docked was bulkheaded with rows of slips and finger piers for boats of all sizes. As the fall wore on, the blues discovered the bunker in the harbor. In those particular years, they were large, 10-15 pounds, and the fisherman also discovered them. But what many you many have seen before, and what we witnessed in those years was that the bluefish in the early morning hours would herd the bunker into the bulkheads and slips and engage in a feeding frenzy, right at the base of the bulk heads, in and amongst the boats in their slips. The water would literally turn red with bunker blood and offal. The guys fishing would hook a lot of fish, but dealing a 10 pound fish in the slips and between the boats meant they were not landing many.
On those fall mornings there was always a bluefish charge into the slips and bulkhead. The blues would rush the bunker and they pushed a 1-2 foot wave ahead of them, with the bunker jumping up and flipping out of the water. An amazing sight.
Again, Dave and all, sorry to be so wordy, but the memories storm back. Tough to live too long.
What a great piece. Brings back so many memories, and you are so correct in that the fishery biologists seem to forget about the importance of the menhaden.
Bunker were a part of my life like snapper blues, eeIs on summer nights and black ducks in the salt marsh. As I mentioned in my recent introduction I grew up on the Long Island Sound in the 60s, 70s and 80s and menhaden were omnipresent throughout the Sound.
Two stories: First, I worked on the Bridgeport-Port Jeff Ferry from 1970 to 1981, through part of college and grad school. Bunker boats were all over the Sound in those years. Many were converted WWII vessels, mostly out of New London and Mass. On the Ferry, I worked as a deck hand and in the bar, depending on the time of year.
One early June day, I was at the helm (deck hands do a watch steering and the Captain supervises.) The Captain was part owner, and an extraordinary individual for many reasons. Scion of an old Long Island sea-fairing and shipbuilding family. Graduate of Amherst, and excellent seaman. He was an impressive presence, played football at Amherst as a guard. About 6-1 250 pounds and not really fat just solid. He took after many old-line captains, largely fearless—and instilled a lot of fear and respect—all of which to which I can attest, but stories for another time.
On that warm midafternoon in June, there was a bunker boat, probably a converted destroyer escort coming out of the west. No apparent presence on deck or in the wheelhouse. The bunker boat did not move on the horizon, we were perpendicular to each other, it was headed due east on our port side, and we were headed due north. I recall the first mate or one of the Captains telling me if the ship on a perpendicular course is not moving on the horizon, then you are on a collision course. Never vetted it, don’t know if it is true, but that day we were on a collision course. Cap was of the view we were in the right of way. There was a psychology to captains in those days, you don’t give way when you have the right of way—again at least in those days. Being the kid, 20 years old, and a little concerned—with the bunker boat at 200 yards, I said “Cap, can we give way?’ “Nah, fuck him, was his response.” At about 50-100 yards, the DE bunker boat swerved hard to the port-North in our direction, we missed each other by 30 yards. A large black man emerged from the wheelhouse, belly laughing and yelled “Just joking, Mannnn,” in a West Indian or Carribean accent.
Second Bunker Story.
In the late 70s in Port Jeff, I was still working on the Ferry. In the fall after the summer season I returned to being a deck hand. Would get to the ferry around 5:45 for a 6:00 am departure if I recall correctly. That year and for several years around that time, at dawn the Harbor would be breaking bunker for two miles out to the entrance and breakwater. The South of the harbor where the ferry docked was bulkheaded with rows of slips and finger piers for boats of all sizes. As the fall wore on, the blues discovered the bunker in the harbor. In those particular years, they were large, 10-15 pounds, and the fisherman also discovered them. But what many you many have seen before, and what we witnessed in those years was that the bluefish in the early morning hours would herd the bunker into the bulkheads and slips and engage in a feeding frenzy, right at the base of the bulk heads, in and amongst the boats in their slips. The water would literally turn red with bunker blood and offal. The guys fishing would hook a lot of fish, but dealing a 10 pound fish in the slips and between the boats meant they were not landing many.
On those fall mornings there was always a bluefish charge into the slips and bulkhead. The blues would rush the bunker and they pushed a 1-2 foot wave ahead of them, with the bunker jumping up and flipping out of the water. An amazing sight.
Again, Dave and all, sorry to be so wordy, but the memories storm back. Tough to live too long.
Lloyd Heins
Member
My first Bull Sprig 98% completed
Steve Sanford
Well-known member
Lloyd~
Sweet bird - tons of personality!
SJS
Sweet bird - tons of personality!
SJS
Pat Gregory
Well-known member
Lloyd - Nice sprig! Looks like your gunning mate approves... Thank you for sharing! Pat
Shawn Linn
Active member
Steve did you mean the bird or the big ham sitting next to the bird, really nice job on the bird Lly
Lloyd Heins
Member
Thank you guys. When painting the back, I struggled to get my hand to do what my brain was telling to. Very fun project though.