I used to revel in the bookends of the season. I was one of the few that was out earlier and later in the year than most could stand (or thought was worth their time). But the bragging board of social media has revealed these quiet times to the masses and that “me too” thirst has pushed more and more anglers out earlier and later than ever before, just to harvest a photo to post on their feed.
As I was returning from a trip down to the Cape to help out with a kid’s fishing day, I got that twinge that told me that it was time to make that first surf trip of the season. Sunday nights are great for fishing because most anglers have run late nights over the weekend and need to ‘freshen up’ for the work week. So I made the trip out and fished in Sunday solitude, landing my first five bass of the season, ranging from a – surprising for April – 14 to 22 pounds.
A few nights later I felt the need to go back. And I dragged my wife and daughter along with me, so that my daughter could help me shoot some photos for future articles. We took separate vehicles so that I could stay into the dark. There were a couple fly guys that appeared right at sunset, but they didn’t stay long and I was alone again by full darkness. On my successful Sunday night there had been hundreds of herring in this spot, but on this night they were few and far between. A cold and relentless north wind buffeted me as I stood casting heavy herring imitations over and over.
Finally, a smaller push of herring came in and I felt the telltale thump of a bass sucking in my glidebait. After a battle that outpunched its weight, a 15-pounder swam into the glow of my headlamp. The next 90 minutes were brutally cold, nearly devoid of herring and completely devoid of fish. With my phone softly playing the Red Sox game, I told myself, “one more inning and, if I don’t get a hit, I’m outta here!”
Right around the time that inning was wrapping up, I heard some chatter on the beach, straining my ears, I heard the unmistakable crunching of boots in the gravel. I knew this meant I had to stay. I heard a hushed voice say, “See him, he’s all the way out and to the left.” The duo of shadows crossed the shallow cut and made their way out until they were right next to me.
It’s a funny situation, fishing but hoping no one hooks up. It’s not that I didn’t want these guys have to have a good time, it’s that I worry that if someone does have a good night that they will start the chain reaction of phone calls and there will be 14 guys there the next night. I’ve seen it happen and I’ve seen it completely ruin a great spot.
I remained quiet and diligent, casting constantly and cycling through a lineup of plugs that I thought would tempt any fish that came within range. I heard the guys talking, about how the night ‘felt right’ and listened as the slow fishing and cold wind whittled away at their confidence. As the tide continued to drop out, the tiny swell coming in broke over a shallow bar behind them. “Did you hear that?!” one of them said. “A fish just blew up behind us! Cast directly behind me!” I knew that there was no possible way a fish was back there, at this stage of the tide, there was barely 8 inches of water in there and it was cut off from the ocean by a long bar. But his partner flung a backward cast back and came back with 9 pounds of gunk. I don’t write this to make fun of them for trying, I included this detail because it shows how hard we try to find something, anything, to prop up our confidence on a slow night.
My hands were frozen, and I could feel my elbow barking from casting with tensed muscles in the wind. But I knew now that there was no way I was going back before they did. Why? I have no idea. So I stayed true to the task at hand, casting and reeling, until I heard one say to the other, “Phew, you know, I’m getting pretty cold!”
Sweet salvation was near. I only had to wait for them to walk all the way back and drive away. And when I saw their headlights swing out of the sandy parking lot, I released myself from my fishless prison sentence and I had to wonder, am I too competitive… for my own good? What do you think?
