My first and only experience on Hubbard Creek was with the old Grand Prairie Bass Club in / or around 1980. My regular partner couldn’t fish the tournament, so I paired up with one of the other guys whose partner also couldn’t fish that weekend. He had access to his company’s boat, so he volunteered that we take it and pull it out there with his company truck. This boat was used by the employees of the company and it really looked it. There were certain rules that had to be followed, however. The main thing was if you used anything up, you had to replace it and return the boat with full tanks of fuel and oil.
Neither of us had been on HC before and so we headed out early, stopped at a truck stop for a big greasy breakfast, and just showed up at the ramp at about 6:00 AM Saturday with a map that we had marked up on the drive from Irving. We got all our stuff loaded, and launched the boat and got ready to set out. Engine cranked fine and we idled around waiting for “blast off”. This was the days of shotgun starts, and there were probably around 15 or 20 boats ready to leave when the signal came. The TD fired his .22 blank pistol, and everyone showered down. My buddy hit the throttle on the 100 hp Johnson, and the acceleration was so great that it threw him back against the seat. Only problem was that the boat had been sitting outside for so many years that the seat back bolts attaching it to the bottom of the seat had rotted out and he prompty went over backwards and ended up on the floor of the boat, legs sticking straight up! Engine is now running wide a$$ open and we are in an immediate hard turn. I managed to crawl over and hit the key and killed it before we hit someone else or got thrown out. He’s cussin’ up a storm, and I’m laughing my ass off!!
Finally get underway, and he sees a cut that he wants to go through between an island and the shore. I try to tell him it looks too shallow as I see grass peeking up on the surface, but he says we can make it. We hit the cut at about 40, and it is about 6” deep. All of a sudden we come to a screeching halt and both of us are nearly thrown over the bow. By this time, all of our careful organization of equipment has gone away, but luckily we are still alive if banged up a little. Now we get to pull off the shoes, roll up the jeans, get out of the boat, remove ice chest, gas tanks, and tackle boxes, and try to pull / push it to water deep enough to float – only took about an hour, and both of us ended up wet to the waist.
We finally get back under way, go around the island, and are getting close to the first “hot spot” we had marked on the map, and it is only about 9:00 by now. The partner suddenly exclaims, “I gotta sxxt!!!!” So he starts hunting for a place to bank it so he can hit the woods. It just so happens we are in what must be the most populous area of the lake. He’s searching for a place, and every time he thinks it may be the one, there’s a house there, little kids playing outside, old ladies in their gardens, etc. The urge, however, does not abate, but is only becoming more critical. Every minute or so, he exclaims, “Oh God, I can’t hold it!!” or “I’m going to blow in my pants”. At this point in time, I’m laughing so hard that I’m about to pee in my pants, and making some really crude remarks about his predicament!! We finally find a place that meets expectations, and he beaches the boat at about 20 mph. I’m still laughing so hard I hurt. He jumps up, runs forward, opens a storage compartment, and shouts “GD it!! Someone took the toilet paper!!!” That really sets me off, and now I’m really in bad need to pee!! I’m struggling with wet jeans trying to get things in order to take a leak. Now he says, “What the hell am I going to do now???”. I look around, and the only thing I see is the broken seat back….I manage to control the laughing a little and told him, “Here use this..”and toss it to him. He rips two double handfuls of foam rubber out of the cushion and duck waddles into the woods. I’m still giving him a ration from the boat - watch for poison ivy, rattlesnakes, etc. I think he was so glad to make it that he didn’t even respond to my remarks.
When he came back I told him that fishing with him was just too exciting, and I didn’t know if I could do it anymore. We were real careful the rest of the weekend, and even managed to put a few fish in the boat. After a few beers, the story made for a lively conversation around the campfire that evening (and for a couple of years), and of course he tried to deny a lot of it.
I don’t remember his name as it has only been 30 years or so, but I hope that he is on BBC and reads this. I know he hasn’t forgotten it, and I swear it is all true!! To this day, you will never find my boat without a brand new roll of TP in a plastic Folger’s Coffee can that can catch those mud sharks in a pinch!!
"Be Prepared"
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