Just Two Boys and a Jeep

We were squatting at the water's edge, like ancient cavemen, butt-naked.  That's how I remember my first time skinny-dipping at Johnny's Clay Hole.

Johnny Hall lived on a dirt road just outside of town.  Near his house was a small clay pit, deep enough to hold water year-around, yet close enough to get there on your bicycle. We called it Johnny's Clay Hole, and I spent many summer days there with my best friends, swimming and having fun.  Riding my bike to Johnny's house for a swim started a great friendship.

The Jeep

Most boys growing up in our small town were interested in fast sports cars.  Johnny and I were only interested in his old jeep.  I think it might have been a Willis Jeep.  You could put that jeep in 4-wheel drive and go just about anywhere in the woods.  It was perfect for hauling a small paddle boat, or a mountain of camping gear. That old jeep was like Huck Finn's raft, it took us on many adventures.

Don't Mess with the Gator

For teenagers, we were pretty good at catching fish, but one day we caught something we hadn't bargained for.  Johnny had heard about an overgrown pond not far from my house, just past the Continental Can place on Highway 301.  The pond was part of an old rice plantation from a long time past.  People used to call that part of the woods Theus Bay.  We figured that pond had to hold a few bass, so we put the boat and our fishing gear in Johnny's jeep and started looking for it.  After about an hour of searching, we finally found the pond. You couldn't see it from the dirt road.  We had to drag Johnny's boat about 75 yards through thick brush to get there.

Johnny was good with a paddle, so he always sat in the back of the boat, I occupied the front.  His boat was 10-feet long and made of aluminum.  It could be heavy at times, especially after you had fished all day.  Sometimes we had an electric motor, but we mainly used paddles.  We didn't have fancy swivel seats either, just two old moldy seat cushions.  The boat wasn't pretty to look at, but it was ours to use anytime we felt the need to go fishing.

The rice pond wasn't large, maybe an acre.  We had fished hard for several hours, but only caught a few small bass.  The sun was starting to get hot when I noticed something moving near the bank.  It was a six-foot alligator, minding it's own business.

The fish weren't biting and I was getting bored, so I did something very foolish.  I took the plastic worm off my hook and started casting the heavy sinker and hook at the alligator.  I wasn't really trying to hook the old 'gator, but I did, right in the back.

So what does a teenager do when he hooks a six-foot alligator in the back with heavy-duty spinning tackle?  He starts laughing of course, that was until the alligator started swimming toward the other side of the pond.  I couldn't believe what was happening, we were being "pulled" across that pond.  I held on tight to the rod with my feet braced against the front of the boat.  Johnny was yelling at me to cut the line, but I just kept holding on to the rod.

Finally, the alligator dove and broke the line. The boat stopped sliding across the water, everything became deathly quiet.  With barely a word spoken between us, we looked at each other and decided we'd had enough fishing for one day.  We never did go back to that rice pond again.

The Miracle at Miller Lake

One afternoon we decided to hunt behind Miller Lake, which was way back in the swamp near McIntosh County.  The best way to get there was by using Blues Reach Road, which is actually the Old Barrington Road, but we always called it the Blues.  I think the Blues Reach is the longest, straight dirt road in Long County.  Some people think the King Road holds that distinction, but I compared the two on a map and the Blues won hands down.  No matter how you measured it, it was a long ride.

We were heading to a place called Tiger Slews.  Johnny and I often hunted around Tiger Slews and the Five Sisters -- always great deer and hog country.

We were just past Miller Lake when we had to cross a deep channel cutting the old logging road.  A long, rickety runway made with boards just wide enough for the tires was the only way to get across.  We made it across just fine, getting back was a different story.

We usually hunted past dark, but this time we decided to leave early.  Johnny was nervous about getting back across that runway.  The light was fading fast and we had a long way to travel.

We actually made it far enough across the runway to get the front tires on the other side of the channel when the back tires slipped off the boards.  The jeep was almost vertical, which reminds me of the night I drove an Army jeep into a tank ditch during military maneuvers in the Mojave desert, but that's another story.  

There was at least three feet of black water in that channel, the back tires were completely submerged.  To make matters worse, the front end of the drive shaft had popped out, too.  We didn't have cell phones in those days.  We were in a fine mess.

I grabbed my shotgun and started walking out when Johnny said he could fix the jeep.  You can imagine what I said about that idea.  Without a second thought, he jumped into that moccasin-infested water and proceeded to make a block and lever out of an old log and several railroad ties.  I followed him in, stepping into a hole up to my belly-button.  

The water was cold, but we worked fast.  By using the log as a lever, I raised the rear of the jeep just high enough for Johnny to get the drive shaft back in place.  We then put more blocks under the back tires and got them back on the boards.

That solved two problems, but all of the bearings had fallen out with the drive shaft.  Johnny shifted through the sand and found a few of the missing bearings.  With only a screw driver and pliers, Johnny put enough bearings back in place to get the drive shaft working again.

I had little faith, but Johnny crawled into the jeep, put it in 4-wheel drive and drove right out of that channel.  To this day, I consider what he did to be the most amazing example of raw mechanical engineering by a teenager. MacGyver would have been proud!

Beans and Potatoes

When it came to hunting and fishing, we always made big plans.  One spring we decided to camp along the Altamaha River and set bush-hooks for catfish.  We piled everything we could think of into the back of his old jeep: boat, fishing gear, gas stove, lanterns, sleeping bags, frying pan, cans of beans, a bag of potatoes, a case of Cokes, and several coolers full of ice.  We were going to dine on catfish for the next three days.

We put the boat in at Miller Lake with all our gear and headed for the river.  After three big bends up the Altamaha, we set up camp at the mouth of Old Hell Lake.  A small ridge with an ancient wooden shelter was going to be home for the next few days.

We set out over 100 bush hooks up and down Old Hell Lake and out into the swamp.  We used every kind of bait you could think of.  We didn't catch a single fish all weekend.

With no fish to cook, we had little choice about our menu.  Breakfast was beans with fried potatoes. Lunch was beans with fried potatoes. Supper was beans with more fried potatoes.  The next day was the same.  I had never been so tired of beans and fried potatoes in all my life.  We were good fishermen, but what do you do when the fish won't bite?  We gave up after two days and went home.

The Fire

We had more adventures, but the last one I remember was the "fire" episode while duck hunting.  I never was a good shot at anything flying, but Johnny wanted to shoot ducks, so we made plans.  We got up very early and drove to the Washout, a popular swimming place where Daddy taught me how to swim.  We were going to shoot wood ducks as they crossed the railroad tracks near the Washout.

The weather was awful, windy and cold.  We got there about an hour before daylight and started waiting.  Johnny's jeep didn't have a working heater, so it wasn't long before we started shivering.  I don't remember who made the suggestion, but we decided to build a fire under a large oak tree while waiting for daybreak.

The ground was damp, so Johnny siphoned some gas from the jeep to get the fire going.  That was a big mistake.  The flames started shooting up higher than we expected, and the wind started blowing sparks every where.  It wasn't long before we set the Spanish moss in the top of that tree on fire.

I couldn't believe my eyes.  I think the whole damn tree must have been on fire.  I just knew we were going to burn down everything between the railroad and Highway 301,

I started to get in the jeep to go for help when I saw Johnny climbing up that tree.  He was trying to put the fire out with his hat.  He was on a limb after some burning moss, when the moss behind him caught fire.

The situation was serious and hilarious at the same time; the moss in the top of that tree was burning and popping like Fourth of July fireworks, Johnny was stuck on a limb with fire on both ends, and I was stomping out fire spreading on the ground.

But the good Lord was watching over us.  As quickly as the fire started, it stopped.  Johnny made it to the ground, his hat still smoldering a bit.  Once we calmed down, we started laughing, promising never to tell anyone what had happened.  We ran out of shells shooting at ducks that morning.

I often think about those days with Johnny, we had wonderful times together.  Too bad Mark Twain wasn't still around; he could have written another great novel about two young boys living life large in the back woods of Long County, Georgia.

Mike's Camping Tip:  Always take some bacon while camping, the fish may not be biting.


Mike Griffin, an old Ludowici boy from way back.

PS - All of my stories are true, mostly true or maybe just made up :)

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