Thursday, June 29, 2006

Dude, It's Moving The Boat

Yesterday’s afternoon email:

Are we still on for tomorrow AM ... Or is the weather not going to cooperate?I'm flying in from Atlanta. Shoot me an email and I'll get it when I land


Despite my inability to recollect such plans (they must have been made at the Beach Party last weekend), I was game to head out again this morning if the weather agreed. It did, so we went out.

We were on the water at 4:30 and this morning was much darker than yesterday due to the heavy cloud cover and appreciable fog that hung over the area. As I waited for Don to arrive at the boat a man in a white t-shirt emerged from behind a rock jetty and approached me. It was a guy named John Bunar who is a local fishing guide. He needed a ride out to his boat as the marina pram was missing. So, we all made our introductions, swatted some big league mosquitoes, and were soon underway on the bay. John said he’d drop us some pogies if we happen to run into one another out on the bay – but this never happened.

It was misty and dark and I thought for sure it would rain. Don was worried about this and exclaimed that he should have brought a rain coat. Yes. But it held off and conditions were just about perfect for fishing this morning. I had decided that the same line of attack as yesterday would be the most prudent and logical thing to do. Our first drift over the rip and Don was onto a small striper almost immediately. Then a few more – all shorts. I worried that the big fish from yesterday were long gone but I needed to confirm this by heading up to Spot #2 which was not too far away. We drifted right through this area and did not hook one fish. Hmmmn. So, we ran back to the original area where our luck incrementally and steadily increased. The fish were getting larger every cast.

Soon I was wondering how Spot #2 would be now that larger fish were showing up. We found out: they were there big time. Just about every time we drifted through the sweet spot we were hooking big stripers. I finally landed a keeper (29”) and soon after Don’s popper was engulfed by white water and whatever it was just about spooled his reel. He fought the fish for about 2 or 3 minutes, then it let go. He was pissed. It must have been a fish in the range of 35 to 40 inches long. Nothing like seeing happiness turn to dismay.

We continued for some time and eventually the ebbing plume of Back River water ran over the banks, bringing with it loads of eelgrass and murkiness. This rapidly put the fish down and so, with one final cast, we agreed to head in.


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