Sandy Pond
Stories

by Bernie Carr

The Fishing Expert

Fishing in the old days was very good if you knew where to go and what to use as bait. As a youngster I fished little, but my grandparents were into it and had great fishing experiences. It was the reason they first went there. They had a distant cousin who was a “vested expert fisherman.”

Short story: My best friend's stepfather owned part of Seber Shores (East Shore). He had a large boathouse, rented boats and cottages, and sold swamp lots to be filled for lake and creek lots. He also had a bait shop and a license to catch minnows with a 50-foot net. My friend and I earned extra money in the summer filling lots from the gravel pit, catching minnows, and doing other odd jobs for him.

My grandparents' cousin came in from fishing one day with no fish. We saw him and inquired as to his luck. His response: “They aren't biting or I would have caught some.” My friend picked up on it and told my distant relative that he wasn't as good as he thought he was.

Back came a challenge: “Put your money where your mouth is.”

The deal wound up this way: If we each caught three bass or more, he would give us five dollars each. If we each caught two or less, we’d give him three dollars each.

As we headed for the creek, you could see him smiling confidently, but still watching where we were heading in case we returned with something.

After we were out of sight, we swung into the channel toward my friend's place. We went up to the old barn and played a little basketball. After staying busy a few hours, he and I went to one of the empty minnow ponds where we had kept some bass and bullheads from our netting that spring. We netted six nice bass, placed them on stringers and took them back to settle the bet. We were paid, but only with our promise to keep this a secret.

For the remainder of his or my grandparents’ life I never told anyone. And never again did I hear my distant cousin proclaimed to be the fisherman he really was.

The Ice Cometh, the Dock Goeth

In the ‘50s my grandfather and my great uncle were tired of putting in and taking out the dock each year. Both were ex-railroad people who knew the longevity of railroad ties and bridge timbers, so they decided to build a permanent dock. They cribbed and spiked long bridge timbers and railroad ties together and built a dock filled with large stones, then gravel, then sand, topped with dirt and finally grass.

The following winter the ice came; by the time we returned to Sandy Pond the dock had jackknifed. From the side it looked like a teepee. “Just not sturdy enough.” said my uncle.

Most of that summer was spent rebuilding. This time they widened it. They offset the ties and bridge timbers so they overlapped each other before spiking. They drove rebar before adding stone, gravel, and sand. On top they placed a concrete cover. I think we used welded wire (but not rebar) in the concrete.

On our first visit the following spring we found some of the larger stones, a couple chunks of concrete and one lonely railroad tie from the front.

To my knowledge no one has ever found the remainder of the dock.

Teenaged Bernie Carr helps pile stones for the new, improved family dock, a summer project that in winter would prove futile.

Bernie Carr spent 4-plus years in the U.S. Coast Guard as a Sonarman trained in electronics and sonar.

"I mostly stood radar watches, plotted aircraft, with a little weather and oceanographic work thrown in. I was also on the Coast Guard Honor Guard and marched and performed accordingly, including the Macy's Parade in NYC.

"I then had some formal training in drafting and design, and in photography. The remainder of my work life was predominantly as a drafter or designer, an electrical or mechanical maintenance supervisor, with a stint as a professional photographer."

Bernie now has his own website:

www.sandypondny.com

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