Robert Payne’s Blog

Just a few hours south of Tampa, Florida is North Captiva Island.

View North Captiva in a larger map

It gets the name from both its captive beauty, and the fact that it served as a prison for female “captives” held for ransom by pirates.

Accessible only by boat or private plan, this half-mile wide island offers roughly 5 miles of pristine white sand beaches to explore, two-thirds of which border a 700-acre state land preserve. Pay to park your car at Pine Island Marina and get ready to leave it all behind.

There is phenomenal tarpon, redfish, snook, and trout fishing in the waters surrounding the island, and there are several charter fishing operations to serve your needs. The abundance of seafood served the Calusa Indians long before it supported a thriving fishing operation, which made use of fish houses to ice down their catch. Those that have fallen out of family ownership now belong to the state of Florida and are considered historical buildings.

A couple of restaurants do serve food, but it is recommended that your bring a sufficient load of supplies. Because there are no cars allowed, golf carts serve as the primary source of transportation.

Of course, a good old rusty bike will do the trick, and there are plenty of other activities including sea kayaking. If you go early in the morning the likelihood of seeing manatees and dolphins are very high.

Whatever you do, just make sure to find some time to discover your subtle side. Captivity awaits!

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Boom…Boom…Boom.

I awoke to the dull but persistent sound of freight containers being offloaded at the Port of Charleston’s Wando Terminal. “That’s the sound of money,” I had once heard someone say. It was 6am and time to rise for a saltwater fishing charter with Captain Peter H. Brown. I’d been looking forward to the trip for quite some time. Me, my father, and an experienced fishing guide would explore the meandering creeks and marshes of the South Carolina coast in pursuit of redfish (bass), trout, and any other assorted haul the Lowcountry could throw at us. In the close days proceeding, bending rods and screeching reels filled my imagination and intensified my anticipation. I hoped my suppositions would become reality.

I was a little dismayed the day before when I came in from Tampa, Florida, crossed the Cooper River Bridge, and witnessed the impending storm clouds on the horizon. When it began to rain in buckets, I thought the trip would be canceled for sure. A somber call to Peter allayed my fears somewhat. He’d been studying the weather and felt confident we should give it a go nonetheless. I complied, hung up the phone, and immediately went to pack my rain gear.

Despite my doubts, dawn rose fresh and brilliant. A short drive to Shem Creek barely gave me enough time to down my coffee before I was at the boat slip. When my Dad arrived a few minutes late, I couldn’t help but reciprocate for years of ribbings I’d received for consistently falling behind the agreed upon time. Fishing or hunting, I never qualified as a “morning person.”

Peter fired up his Action Craft Flats Boat, and we were on our way. He explained that the rain had caused significant clouding in the water, which would require a little extra creativity on our part. I was muddled by the fact that spinning rods, and not fly rods, would be our angling instruments of choice. But as Peter spoke, I looked across the Charleston Harbor to see the City filling with the flow of men and women making their way to work. I was happy to oblige, I thought, feeling fortunate that I had a beautiful Friday of fishing with my father ahead of me.

Before we’d even emerged from the mouth of Shem Creek, Peter had already scooped up a mess of Menhaden on his second toss of the cast net. Into the live well they went along with some Mud Minnows. I was sure they were aware of their impending doom. They would spend their day being live-hooked, cut up, cast, dragged, caught on oyster shells, picked up by sea birds, and sucked down the maws of sea creatures.

As is so often the case in a tight-knit community, the local fisherman know and support one another. Just as we were leaving the creek another boat maneuvered alongside of us. The Captain casually struck up a conversation with our Captain about weather and conditions. Peter graciously offered up information and a few Menhaden, and before the other boat veered off the man shouted to us, “you are in good hands.” A salty thought surfaced in me, thanks buddy, I’ve known Peter for 30 years.

Educational pursuits, life experiences, and work have taken me away from Charleston for longer than I would like, but I hold on to the fact that I grew up fishing these very waters. Before I could even walk I bounced around in a basket at the bow of my father’s little John Boat. Dad had been offered several different job offers in cities around the Country, but he had decided to take up residency in Charleston for the very reason we were now going fishing with Peter - the love of the Lowcountry. Along with my brother, who is now a realtor at Lane and Smythe, my sister, who works for the Coastal Conservation League, and my mother, who is a local Charleston artist, father took our family out in the boat almost every weekend.

Exploring the fringes of one of America’s oldest and most beautiful cities was always an adventure for a young child. The ebb and flow of the tide brought a host of new experiences. The biology of bringing up a seine on a mud bank, catching my first shark, getting caught out on a barrier island in a fierce thunderstorm, and heading shrimp till my fingers bled are just a few of my memories that beat against the inexorable march of time. Even though I know countless other boys and girls who grew up with the same intimate connections to the environs of Charleston, these moments are mine.

We arrived at our first fishing spot and Peter killed the motor. He baited our hooks and then quietly and deftly maneuvered us closer to the marsh grass with a Push Pole. We floated our bait in the persistent current, and before long we had caught several trout. The marsh grass gleamed green against the backdrop of palm, live oak, and pine, and somewhere in the brush a warbler welcomed the day.

Peter and I spoke of friends, money, and new developments that are further protruding and forever changing the unspoiled landscape that we knew as children - we could see some of them now from the boat. I think most of us recognize our hypocrisy when we cry out for environmental protection and economic improvements, but we know deep down that life is not absolute and there must be a better way. I know we all want our children to experience the same natural beauty that we shared with our parents.

The entire time we spoke, my father simply listened. We do not see each other often, so I wondered why he didn’t readily join in. But it occurred to me that he always listens to me, providing feedback when necessary, and guidance when required. While the amount of talk is not the measure of quality time spent together, I hope he knows I am there to listen to him as well.

I watched my father make a cast close to the bank, and in an instant his line went taut. There were no jerky movements, foolish displays, or wasted effort, but instead his efforts were smooth and practiced. Dad pulled in a beautiful bass. The day was far from over, so we made our way to several other spots. We caught some, we lost some, and all the while soaked up the landscape that has shaped the lives of each of us.

On the way back in to Shem Creek, we followed the Winds of Fortune, a shrimp boat returning with its days catch. At one time, my grandfather operated two shrimp boats in Shem Creek, the Carol El and Princess Anne, the latter of which sank out at the jetties with him on it. It was a different time back then. Much of Mount Pleasant was farmland, and the first Cooper River Bridge changed everything.

I wondered what Charleston was like in those days. I wondered what it was like for my grandfather to fish with his father.

To schedule a saltwater fishing charter with Captain Peter H. Brown, visit his website at www.saltcharters.com

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I’ve lived in Tampa for nearly two years now, and I must confess that during that time I’ve never taken the initiative to go to a Tampa Bay Rays game. So, when I got the invite from a friend it was the only push I needed. It was a good game, and the Rays walloped the Angels 11-1.

I’m always envious of the sports photographers with their huge and expensive lenses. I can’t compete on that level, so instead I took a low res photo from my point-and-shoot and had some fun with it (see below).

To do this yourself with, for instance, a landscape of a city or a mountain range, all you have to do is the following:

How to Create Spheres in Photoshop:

1. Start off with a wide panorama such as the above. If you can use one that is full 360 degrees that is even better.
2. Under Image Size, uncheck Constrain Proportions, and match the Height with the Width.
3. Rotate the image 180 degrees.
4. Under Filter, choose Distort, Polar Coordinates, and in the resulting dialogue box choose the “Rectangular Polar Setting.”
5. Use the Clone Stamp and/or Burn tool to clean up the line where the two sides join.
6. In the case of this example, I also used the Marquee tool to select the area of the sphere I wanted, then did Select - Inverse to get rid of the exterior part of the image. Remember, you’ll need to Unlock the Layer to get a Transparent Layer.
7. As you can see, I also added an additional Layer of baseball threads.

Comment on this post if you ever end up doing something fun with these simple Photoshop tricks.

Go Rays!

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If you look carefully at this mural (click to enlarge) that is painted on the side of a building in downtown Tampa, you can see that it embodies much of the personality of the city. I hope the artist does not mind that I took a picture of it and posted it here.

Within the lettering you will see the Sulphur Springs Tower, Gasparilla Festival, Henry B. Plant Museum, Ybor City, and representation of the natural environment and countless springs, rivers, and bays that surround the City. Since I moved to Tampa, I have done my best to try and encapsulate the diversity of the area with the Sea Kayaking Tampa, Florida post bringing in a surprising amount of traffic to my website. Of course, there is much more.

My assumption is that very few people outside of Florida think not only about the agricultural production in the State, but also the ranching and equestrianism that goes along with it. Starting with the Spanish, horses have played an integral role in the development of Florida. Not far from where I live, Teddy Roosevelt and his Rough Riders camped for several days in preparation for the Spanish American War. The City of Tampa has not forgotten, for you will find horses featured at the Tampa Bay History Center. Likewise, this statue is just down the street from me on Bayshore.

Horses are iconic symbols that have played a role in my professional life, and in the past two states I have lived in - Nevada and Florida. In my work with Twelve Horses, I have been fortunate to learn more about the history of horses in America, and the challenges they face. It is a fascinating story that is still being written.

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Lately, I have been exploring the different personalities of particular places I frequent. Here are two pictures taken in a 24-hour period along Bayshore Boulevard in Tampa, Florida. They go along with this shot of a Dolphin and Jack playing Cat and Mouse, Horses Resting, and this Bird On A Light.

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Headed over the Cooper River Bridge on my way out of Charleston, SC over Memorial Day Weekend.

Did you know the first Memorial Day was originally held in Charleston, SC and organized by former slaves?

It was May 1, 1865, but they called it Decoration Day.

On that day, former Charleston slaves started a tradition that would come to be known as Memorial Day.

You can read the entire account here at The Post and Courier.

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Caught some images of skimboarders at Sebastian Inlet, Florida after a great Memorial Day surf session. More here…

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Right outside Reno, Nevada on the Steamboat Trail.

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An interesting way of showing appreciation for environmental protection.

Conversation in the grocery store checkout line:

Oh, I’m good on the plastic bag.

“Oh sir, I just put it in there to keep it from spilling on the other items.”

It’s fine, that’s why I have plenty of extra cloth bags. Just put it one of the extras.

“Sir, we are required to put all meat and fish in a separate bag.”

Does it have to be plastic?

“That is my understanding, sir.”

No worries, I won’t tell anyone. I really don’t want that plastic bag.

“Sir, there are certain bacteria and things that can infect other foods. I should really put it in a secure plastic bag.”

You know, I’m just going to take it out at home and put in a refrigerator with a bunch of other things.

“Yes, but that is outside of our control.”

Your control? This is my food which I have now paid for and can choose to do what I want with it. I specifically bring cloth bags to the grocery store to avoid using plastic bags I don’t need. Please put my items in the cloth bags provided.

“Sir, there is no reason to overreact.”

Note: I am not against the use of plastic. Obviously, I depend on it every day for a variety of reasons. What I am against is the notion that uses and practices are absolute. Don’t use when you don’t have to, or when there is a more efficient alternative. Generally, a little effort to conserve isn’t really that much effort, and a little can go a long way. And finally, people need to get over this bizarre idea that those who seek to conserve are somehow hippies or anti-establishment. Stop getting bothered by conservation because you somehow feel that it is a direct threat to your rights as a human being to use whatever you want, whenever and wherever you want. And finally, if you feel that your actions have no influence on the course of this planet or the environment then, well, that is just sad.

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There are so many beautiful and wild areas in the state of Nevada, and yet many Americans are not aware. Fortunately, there are people who are passionate about protecting these unique areas, despite significant challenges in the form of development, water rights, and numerous other interests.

Here’s a great video from the folks at Nevada Wilderness Project (NWP). A few memorable quotes from the video:

“Wilderness is a place for relaxation and sanity…a place where I have always gone to get my bearings.”

“I love politics, and I love sleeping in the dirt.”

“As Americans we have the right to petition our government for change.”

“When it is about protecting your backyard wilderness, and protecting what’s best about America, we feel like that is one of the finest kinds of patriotism around.”

May the force be with you, NWP!

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