I can see that I’m not in the mood to tell the story of Glen’s Landing today, but I wanted to get something down so that I can come back later and rewrite it coherently. I’ve written about it before, because Glen’s Landing was one of those sanctuaries from the world. When visited, there was nothing that could harm you, except perhaps stepping on an oyster shell.
Glen Matthews ran a “fish” house some years ago. My “Aunt Sis” would take me down there when she wanted to get some fish or other type of seafood. You could tell that they were old, good friends that were comfortable with each other and didn’t have to “put on airs.”
Sis would ask Glen what type of fish he had and he would start telling her and might even go over to one of the coolers filled with layers of ice and fish to scratch through the ice and pull up perhaps a fat flounder, or a couple of spots or maybe even mullets. *There was a Pepsi cooler with assorted drinks pushed down into the ice. I liked getting a “Chocolate Soldier,” which was a watery chocolate drink. There might be a reformed drink cooler set aside to keep fish cool.
I don’t recall exactly where the shrimp, scallops and oysters were, but those were also delicious options.
This house had been a private residence for several years. This is my first visit in a long time that leads me to believe that the location may once again be open for fishing business. I see the several boats and trucks parked as some might have been back when Glen ran his fish house and had a ramp for “putting in” to Queens Creek.
I can see that the docks are still located in about the same place as they had been when Glen was alive. But, the large A frame house was not what was there. Glen had a little one story A frame house, with a large barn-type door at the front and a smaller door at the back. The back door opened out onto a covered deck which had several weather grayed picnic tables, and off to one side, a raised trough system for scaling and cleaning fish. Glen would start a spigot of water and then start cleaning a fish. The scales and guts of the fish would wash down the trough and eventually make their way to a gutter which allowed the entrails to plop down into Queens Creek. Not sure that would be allowed today, but since it was all bio-degradable, I don’t see why not.
Eels and crabs would congregate at the water’s edge where the “fish guts” became a feast.
Fishermen used Glen’s boat ramp to put their small boats into and remove them from Queens Creek. The Intra-Coastal Waterway was just a short distance from this location. Glen had a gas pump so that the boaters could fill up their little red gas tanks.
There were oyster shells, being bleached by the sun, which formed part of the boat ramp. The ramp then became poured concrete which slipped from view down into the sometimes brownish (rootbeer) creek. *I would often be barefoot during the summer, and in shorts. If it was the start of the summer, just as shoes had come off after the long Winter and school days, and my feet were still tender, I might step across the shells as if walking across something hot. But, after my soles became calloused, walking across the oyster and clam shells was not an obstacle.