Tuesday, June 20, 2006

June 20, 2006

My proposal "red team" meeting lapsed through until 5:37. I was pissed off at this - particularly since I felt it was only marginally productive. The room was also hot and smelly and the conferenced call was annoyingly fuzzed.

So, when it was over I sternly marched up to my office, turned off the computer, and glided to my truck which was waiting ambitiously in the parking lot. A quick return home to get my gear, and then back to the dock at my workplace to meet Don MacCauley for some stormy fishing.

That's right - stormy...but not really. A thunder storm had just passed through, but another line of dark clouds decended upon us. But the water was glassy and dark silver, and we weren't all that worried. Also, our wives had really sent us out to harvest a large striper or two for a communal gathering tomorrow night.

First we checked my lobster pots...four of them. Nothing but spider crabs. But Don was into this -- pulling up to the bouys and yanking up the iron-meshed traps. We also spotted some large baitfish near the pots. These were most likely moss bunker (menhaden), or more locally known as "pogies". I call them bunker as we did back in Connecticut (on Long Island Sound). My dad called them Moss Bunker. Interesting. Anyway, we were unable to snag any of these bunker as they were quite spooky. My idea was to collect a couple, keep them in a bucket of seawater, and then liveline them out at the Nummet for the two big bass that would feed us at tomorrow's party. But no dice.

So, we decided to check out the bay for fish. We came upon one school of small bass immediately. A few drifts along this channel's edge produced about 4 for me and 1 for Don. (I rubbed this fact into him - must keep things amusing). Then we headed over to another spot between Clarke's Island and the Bug Light, and this produced a few more fish...I think Don caught up to me here...maybe 7 to 5 or something like that.

Then the tide slacked (high) and I knew the place to go to. Once there we had some nice action. About 4 or 5 fish each...me, catching back up to Don for a final tally of 10 to 10 -- a tie. Finally, the wind picked up on the Plymouth side and white caps were forming. We cracked a beer and slowly cruised back to the Nummet for a few casts (nothing). Then, after refueling, we sped along the Miles Standish shoreline to the harbor. The sky was mixed with haze, clouds and a pink sunset. Beautiful.

Back at the dock we sported after some micro bass which were busting under some silversides. I finally caught one on a fly (attached to my spin gear). We would have remained there for hours, like kids, but the mosquitoes were horrendous and I knew it was best to head home.

All for today.



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