Aug 27th 08

 

Aug 27th 08

 

Last night was a beautiful night to fish.

 

The ocean was calm with a small swell rolling in.  The water was syrupy and gentle.  The waves were soft and easy and there were some fish in tight as one of the fellows caught two.  That is often the case one fisherman catches and the others cast.  The fish are there but not everyone can catch them.  That is the way it is and always has been.

 

Good fishermen, those who have the gift, always seem to be able to find a fish or two that are willing to take a fly cast and presented by them while others do not catch.  I wonder what separates those who can do it from those who can not.    I watch them fish and I can often tell by their body language if they are going to be successful.  Not always but often.  There are those times when everyone who is fishing will catch fish because the fish are aggressive and hungry and excited by an abundance of easy prey.  Those times make for lots of excitement and a carnival atmosphere and is the stuff of tall tales and magazine articles.  Fishing is not always this way and many people do not realize that fishing often takes a bit more time and thought and persistence and crosses over from an active entertainment scene to a contemplative energy.   Crowds gather to reap the harvest of excitement and easy fish and when it is over the crowds fade away. 

I enjoy both the contemplative and the excitement.

 

I like to watch crowds of anglers casting and catching and having a ball.

I like to watch them more than join in the fray but sometimes I do join in and that is a good thing to do.  You never know what is going to happen and that is worth the price of admission (being there) by itself.  You see the experts running up and down the beach chasing schools of fish as they pass by and you see families sitting around beach blankets and in chairs with their radio playing and kids running up and down the beach tossing out plugs with way too large spinning rods or way too small ones that are designer toys pink for girls or blue for boys with small close faced toy spinning reels.  Then there are the four wheelers with rods sticking out of their trucks at every conceivable angle with fish boxes bolted on to the front bumper and the bait fishermen with an array of sand spikes with five to ten rods baited with chunks of fish or clams resting on the bottom waiting for a hungry fish to gobble them up.

 

It is a fall festival of fishing.  In some ways it is like a weekend music festival with crowds moving and sitting and making noise in harmony with the degree of activity that is happening along the edge of the water.  A school of bluefish appear (the band) and the folks, young and old, go running down and cast their lures and bait and bobbers and secret special thingy’s with hope for making contact with the big one and the experts coolly walk down suppressing their excitement but secretly wanting to jump right in and grab a fish or two.  The kids will try that unless they are stopped and given a lecture about the dangers of bluefish biting their fingers off - in times to come they will dutifully pass on this, “Wisdom,” to their children

It is pretty hard to grab a fish,

Or a bird for that matter. 

 

 

September and October are wonderful months to be along the ocean front in the daytime.

The people who come to participate in the spectacle are just as interesting to watch as the fish. It is a migration of people from the cities and suburbs and inland rural areas to the ocean front and it happens every year right on time.  The RV folks come and camp out in all the places that are designated for them to come and camp and many of them follow the fish all the way down south moving weekly to keep up with the event as it moves along.  It is like the plains of Africa in a sense although not at all the same in terms of crossing rivers full of crocodiles and plains with hyenas and lions and other critters to numerous to mention.  It a migration of people and animals none the less with stops at McDonalds and gas stations and convenience stores all along the way.  Maine to Cape North Carolina, I would like to make that trip one fall stopping along the way and see people that I do not know and meeting them and getting to know them as I move along on a shared journey that has no purpose other than doing it at least once.  I have always stayed behind to enjoy and savor the sparkling November nights alone on the beach with the bass and hard core friends who I fish with once the crowds have moved on. 

 

Fall is almost here.

Time to make plans.

One Response to “Aug 27th 08”

  1. Cire Says:

    There is an old man
    He lives by the rivers his masters once fished
    They are long gone
    And he remains

    He casts his one home-made lure with a handline
    Not far
    And swings it into the slow deep water by the bank.

    He knows when they come
    He knows where they go
    The Fishman.

Leave a Reply