Hunt Winchester
I don’t remember when or where my father met Hunt Winchester. It may have been through his job as a computer programmer at a company called SDC (Systems Development Corporation) in Santa Monica in the early sixties.
This is not so much about Hunt Winchester as it is about the fishing trips I went on with my father and him when I was a kid. But his name alone was and still is an enigma to me.
Hunt Winchester...yes, his real name. One couldn’t make up a better character name for a novel, except maybe Jack Diddley...which is another story altogether.
My first recollection of Hunt Winchester was in 1964, I was fourteen. My dad had planned a fishing trip with him along with another co-worker, Wayne Wilson. At first, I don’t think I was included in these plans. Afterall, I was only fourteen. And I think these particular fishing trips were an opportunity for them get away for a few hours and have some “manly time” together. A time to talk about their problems, at work and otherwise. A time to forget about their problems for a while, at work and otherwise. And a time to...fish.
Hunt had the boat. It was a small, old, wooden-hulled, cabin cruiser with a 40 hp Johnson outboard motor. I don’t remember the brand name, it may have been a custom-made job. Painted two-tone red and blue, Hunt’s boat was well-cared-for. And even though it was not very big in terms of size, it appeared to me like a luxury yacht. There was room for three or four people to cruise comfortably. There was more room for a fourteen year old when he got to ride on the bow, in front of the cabin.
The first such fishing trip with Hunt was to Lake Cahuma near Santa Barbara. A small, thin body of water nestled between the coastal foothills used primarily as a reservoir for drinking water. And even though the public had always been allowed to boat and fish in it, there was no swimming allowed.
It would be about a two hour drive to the lake. My dad and I got up at 4:30 am so we could be at Hunt’s place by 5:30, just a couple of miles away. I didn’t get much sleep that night in anticipation of the adventure ahead. The night before I checked and double checked my new fishing equipment...a little Zebco push-button reel and a small plastic tackle box equipped with some worm hooks, a few sinkers, floats, and a brand new red and white striped “spoon” for catching crappie (a species of fish that Lake Cachuma was famous for).
We grabbed the donuts and coffee thermos, the sandwiches for lunch, and the fishing gear...hoped in the 1956 Ponitac station wagon...and drove off into the darkness for Hunt Winchester’s house and our fishing trip to Lake Cachuma.
It was 5:15 am, May 25th, 1964.
This is not so much about Hunt Winchester as it is about the fishing trips I went on with my father and him when I was a kid. But his name alone was and still is an enigma to me.
Hunt Winchester...yes, his real name. One couldn’t make up a better character name for a novel, except maybe Jack Diddley...which is another story altogether.
My first recollection of Hunt Winchester was in 1964, I was fourteen. My dad had planned a fishing trip with him along with another co-worker, Wayne Wilson. At first, I don’t think I was included in these plans. Afterall, I was only fourteen. And I think these particular fishing trips were an opportunity for them get away for a few hours and have some “manly time” together. A time to talk about their problems, at work and otherwise. A time to forget about their problems for a while, at work and otherwise. And a time to...fish.
Hunt had the boat. It was a small, old, wooden-hulled, cabin cruiser with a 40 hp Johnson outboard motor. I don’t remember the brand name, it may have been a custom-made job. Painted two-tone red and blue, Hunt’s boat was well-cared-for. And even though it was not very big in terms of size, it appeared to me like a luxury yacht. There was room for three or four people to cruise comfortably. There was more room for a fourteen year old when he got to ride on the bow, in front of the cabin.
The first such fishing trip with Hunt was to Lake Cahuma near Santa Barbara. A small, thin body of water nestled between the coastal foothills used primarily as a reservoir for drinking water. And even though the public had always been allowed to boat and fish in it, there was no swimming allowed.
It would be about a two hour drive to the lake. My dad and I got up at 4:30 am so we could be at Hunt’s place by 5:30, just a couple of miles away. I didn’t get much sleep that night in anticipation of the adventure ahead. The night before I checked and double checked my new fishing equipment...a little Zebco push-button reel and a small plastic tackle box equipped with some worm hooks, a few sinkers, floats, and a brand new red and white striped “spoon” for catching crappie (a species of fish that Lake Cachuma was famous for).
We grabbed the donuts and coffee thermos, the sandwiches for lunch, and the fishing gear...hoped in the 1956 Ponitac station wagon...and drove off into the darkness for Hunt Winchester’s house and our fishing trip to Lake Cachuma.
It was 5:15 am, May 25th, 1964.
posted by James | 8:46 PM
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