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<p><strong><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.the-chesapeake.com//wp-content/uploads/2010/07/Fishing-for-Fun-logo.jpg"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-274" title="Fishing for Fun logo" src="https://www.the-chesapeake.com//wp-content/uploads/2010/07/Fishing-for-Fun-logo-300x220.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="220" /></a>Wayne Suite was a good fishing buddy who has moved on to the great hunting and fishing grounds in the sky. He died much too young in his mid-40’s of kidney failure due to Lyme Disease complications. Along the way, in this lifetime, we shared some fine fishing trips.</p>
<div><strong><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Wayne fell into a really good deal on a wooden charter boat for sale by Capt. Pete Ide. Capt. Pete was moving to a fiberglass hull and sold Wayne his old boat, &#8220;Fishing Fun&#8221;, for three grand. The Detroit diesel and marine gear alone was worth that price. Capt. Pete included the fish finder, radio, and radar as well as lots of gear with the still sound hull. Like I said, it was a really good deal.</span></strong></div>
<p><strong><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Capt. Pete had advised Wayne to use the boat as a river runner. He felt that it’s days of handling rough Chesapeake Bay waters were numbered.</p>
<p>Wayne found dockage at Jim Dayton’s place where Indian Creek meets the Patuxent River. Every weekend, Wayne hosted many family and friends on his boat for free fishing trips though most of us disappeared when the boat needed to be hauled, painted, and maintained.</p>
<p>Buzzard Island Bar was less than five minutes from the dock. Here we always caught lots of fish but the open Bay waters downriver were a continuous temptation to expand our horizons. One weekend, we decided to fish the gas docks out in the Chesapeake.</p>
<p>The day before, I drove the fifty miles south to Tommy Courtney’s business in Ridge to pick up a fresh bushel of alewives to grind for chum on the Bay expedition. About 6 o’clock the next morning we loaded our ice, bait. chum, my 12 volt chum grinder, lots of sandwiches, and about a dozen of us headed down the Patuxent River for the open Bay waters.</p>
<p>At the twelve knots the boat cruised, it took almost three hours to beat our way down the river through a stiff Bay chop out to anchor off the gas docks. Capt. Pete saw us that day on the Bay from his solid fiberglass boat and quietly questioned our sanity.</p>
<p>I started grinding and flipping He</p>
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