While working in New England this week, I worked an evening of fishing in Rhode Island into my schedule. The surf was heavy (the were a hundred people surfing the waves on the other side of the lighthouse pictured below). I strung up my eight weight and walked a jetty for 300 yards before deciding that I would die or lose a flyline if I attempted to fish. Plan B. I hit the rocky beach below the lighthouse and found a trough with nice waves crashing over it. Double haul, cast...strip, double haul, cast...strip. From what I could tell, there wasn't a better place nearby to be soaking my dumbell eyed Bad Hair Day, so I just kept casting. A few surfcasters arrived (which gave me a little confidence that I had picked a decent spot). Then they left. I stayed and kept casting. My polarized glasses salted up and the sun was going down. I snapped a quick photo of the red orb sinking into the earth and kept casting. Strike. A swirl at the end of my retrieve at the lip of the trough. A clean miss. I popped the BHD back into the foaming water stripped and Bang. Striper on. It was a decent fish maybe 20-22" and it made my day. I had one more hit a few casts later, but the night ended with 1 fish landed. I suppose some day after I do this for a few more years, a 1 schoolie night might be a bummer. For now however, it's victory.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
I had a family "theme park weekend" planned this weekend (I do it for the children...) and was certain that without a dose of angling I was probably going to lose my head and do something that might cause me future apologies. With that in mind, I cut out of work an hour early on Friday and blasted out to a favorite trout crick. The fishing log, if I kept one, would look something like this:
Time: 4:30-8:30 PM
Water: Notachance Creek
Weather: Overcast, intermittent showers (light), 63 degrees (estimate)
Flow: 50 cfs
Water Temp: (felt cold)
Equipment: 3 weight Sage, Ross reel, 3 boxes of flies, hemo's 4,5,6 and 7x tippet, fanny pack.
Report: Due to road construction there was no traffic, nobody on the river, nobody fishing. Due to weather, the baetis were peeling off of every riffle and the trout were eating on top. It only took me an hour to figure this out after casting over a lonesome riser in the slow corner out of sight from the next riffle where the game was on. I managed a few fish, blew a few fish and certainly had no need to take out the tape measure. But, I was alone, it was quiet and the fish were right where I like them.
****end log entry****
All in all a perfect pre-salve to shield my nerves from the chaotic hell that comes with jumping in the mosh-pit that is August at America's Premier Waterpark Destination...I did it for the children and I did it well.