Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, September 27, 1993 TAG: 9310150354
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B6 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BOB HUTCHINSON LANDMARK NEWS SERVICE
DATELINE: VIRGINIA BEACH LENGTH: Medium
``Yes, I still sell a few minnows. Sold a dozen this morning,'' said Grimstead, his 300-pound frame reclining in a wooden chair behind a worn, wooden desk. ``But not every day. Some days I don't take in a penny. Not a single penny. I can stay here, I guess, like this. But why?''
Unable to answer that question to his own satisfaction, Grimstead, who will be 65 in February, will close another chapter in the storied history of Back Bay, the shallow, sprawling, one-time utopia for sportsmen in the city's southeast corner. He will retire from the business that he launched in 1955 by digging a canal to the nearby bay and erecting a few simple docks and boat slips.
Even then, the Grimstead name was as synonymous with Back Bay as the Ford name was with Dearborn, Mich.
Generations of Grimsteads, his late father among them, had guided sportsmen from around the country to some of the finest waterfowl shooting on the Atlantic Flyway. Grimsteads had set commercial nets in the bay's water and had farmed the peat-rich land around it.
But Harrell Grimstead wasn't a farmer. And he knew that net-fishing was no longer a viable way to earn a living.
Though he had started guiding ``gunners'' when he was 12, he knew all too well that hunting was in a sharp decline, that it was seasonal and that the seasons kept getting shorter as fowl numbers decreased.
``I could see that sport fishing was taking off,'' he said, ``and that a lot of folks were interested in fishing on the bay. We didn't have many big bass, but we damn sure had a lot of them. In those days, it wasn't unusual for a man to catch and release as many as 50 a day.''
For all his knowledge of these waters, Grimstead had no way of knowing the largemouth bass explosion that started in 1970 would forever change Back Bay fishing - for better, and for worse.
By 1980, the best year, there were 240 documented largemouth catches that weighed at least 8 pounds, the minimum to earn a citation from the Department of Game and Inland Fisheries. More than half were caught out of Bay Haven Farms.
After that, the number of big fish begin to drop sharply. Before long, it became difficult to catch any bass. The situation continues to deteriorate.
``I don't know when I last saw a bass,'' Grimstead said. ``It's been several days. Back Bay has never been a great flounder place. The water's too fresh. But I'll guarantee that I see 10 flounder these days for every bass I see.''
If Back Bay bass fishing is terrible, waterfowl hunting is worse. Some hunters still build shooting blinds. But most can count their seasonal kill on two hands.
Still, it isn't just the disappearance of the fish and ducks that has convinced Grimstead to call it quits. It is a combination of factors, including his health. He has diabetes and has been operated on for prostrate cancer.
``But more than anything else,'' he said, ``I'm disgusted. No one is really paying serious attention to Back Bay - not the city, not the state and not the federal government.
``They've let it turn into one great big mud hole, and no one really gives a darn. Oh, a few people in the Back Bay Restoration Foundation are trying to keep the issue of the bay alive. But that really doesn't amount to much. There's only a couple of places where you can still launch a boat.
``Someday the bay may be revitalized. But not in my lifetime. It's too messed up. When I have to sit here day after day and look at it, when I can remember how it was, when I know what's being allowed to drain into it, I just can't ... I can't do it anymore. It tears me up.
``I love the bay. It's part of me. A big part. But I've had enough.''
by CNB