Tranquility at the End
Well, I need to wrap up 2006, and I have fallen considerably behind . So, I am not going to try and remember each and every outing since my weekend with Chip. But I remember the essence of the final month or so of fishing in Duxbury.
The fish lasted quite some time. I continued to find blues and bass in numbers throughout the first few weeks of October. Then the blues took off. But bass were still numerous, often congregating in the dog leg and just east towards Clarkes Island. Other times they were bunched up against the beach.
The final days of fishing the 2006 season were solo, except for one last day with my neighbor Frank Tenaglia. On a whim one Saturday afternoon we threw some gear in the truck, grabbed a few Heinekens, and were soon on the glassy water. The air was cold and the sun was sinking fast. I took us to a little rip just south of Clarkes Island and we hooked up immediately. Every cast a nice 22” fish. Then, as the sun sank and the colors turned bright tan, we fished along the western shore of the beach…near High Pines. Lots of schoolies. I hooked a bunch on the fly and on rubber shads and the like. Frank and I had a blast. At one point he looked to me and then to the almost-setting sun: “Shit man, why would anyone want to live anywhere else? We are so fucking lucky, aren’t we?” I agreed wholeheartedly because he was right. I joined Frank's gaze toward the backlit island and sighed in pleasure. But I didn’t want to push my luck so I said, "We'd better head in now and make sure we keep out of trouble."
On our way in Skip Bennett intercepted us along the northern side of the bay. The water was glassy smooth and the sun was just inches from touching the treeline on the horizon. We docked up to one another and drifte lazily in the calm water. Skip had just harvested thousands of oysters and had them all sitting right there in front of us in bins and buckets. They were spilling over and Skip had a hard time avoided them with his feet. I had a knife and so we started shucking. We slurped down a bunch of them – the best in the world – and finished what was left of the Heinekens. The sun set and twilight set in. We told stories and laughed. We admired the beauty and in silence, we all knew what we were thinking - much the same of what Frank proclaimed earlier. It was an absolutely awesome evening and we all felt lucky to be alive.
We finally realized it was time to head in. And we did. And that was the last night out fishing on the bay in 2006.
The fish lasted quite some time. I continued to find blues and bass in numbers throughout the first few weeks of October. Then the blues took off. But bass were still numerous, often congregating in the dog leg and just east towards Clarkes Island. Other times they were bunched up against the beach.
The final days of fishing the 2006 season were solo, except for one last day with my neighbor Frank Tenaglia. On a whim one Saturday afternoon we threw some gear in the truck, grabbed a few Heinekens, and were soon on the glassy water. The air was cold and the sun was sinking fast. I took us to a little rip just south of Clarkes Island and we hooked up immediately. Every cast a nice 22” fish. Then, as the sun sank and the colors turned bright tan, we fished along the western shore of the beach…near High Pines. Lots of schoolies. I hooked a bunch on the fly and on rubber shads and the like. Frank and I had a blast. At one point he looked to me and then to the almost-setting sun: “Shit man, why would anyone want to live anywhere else? We are so fucking lucky, aren’t we?” I agreed wholeheartedly because he was right. I joined Frank's gaze toward the backlit island and sighed in pleasure. But I didn’t want to push my luck so I said, "We'd better head in now and make sure we keep out of trouble."
On our way in Skip Bennett intercepted us along the northern side of the bay. The water was glassy smooth and the sun was just inches from touching the treeline on the horizon. We docked up to one another and drifte lazily in the calm water. Skip had just harvested thousands of oysters and had them all sitting right there in front of us in bins and buckets. They were spilling over and Skip had a hard time avoided them with his feet. I had a knife and so we started shucking. We slurped down a bunch of them – the best in the world – and finished what was left of the Heinekens. The sun set and twilight set in. We told stories and laughed. We admired the beauty and in silence, we all knew what we were thinking - much the same of what Frank proclaimed earlier. It was an absolutely awesome evening and we all felt lucky to be alive.
We finally realized it was time to head in. And we did. And that was the last night out fishing on the bay in 2006.
posted by John at 4:51 PM
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