Editor’s Log: Lady Of The Dark Moon - The Fisherman

Editor’s Log: Lady Of The Dark Moon

Over 25 years of surfcasting, I’ve had more than a few experiences that defied explanation. Ninety-nine percent of the time, they have just been strange instances of chance, like the new moon night when a helium balloon stalked me on sand flat. I’ve had fireballs (extra bright meteors) take my breath away. I’ve had strange people watching me from the treeline. I’m mostly unflappable, but once in a while, I will admit, I get spooked.

The other night I spent an evening fishing with Pat Abate. Pat was the original owner of River’s End Tackle, a friend and fishing companion of Tim Coleman, still pounding the rocks, now north of 70 years old. I love fishing with Pat, because he’s the perfect role model for what I want my next 30-something years to be like. He’s humble, he’s in shape, he’s dedicated to what he loves and he’s good at it.

On the ride, Pat joked that we wouldn’t be trespassing on this trip, but as we crept through the yard of a well-lit house, it sure felt like we were! As we snuck past the house, I caught a glimpse of a flickering orange glow, highlighting the faces of three or four dark figures, huddling around a small fire. I clenched my jaw, waiting for someone to yell at us. Pat noticed the fire, and went over to explain our presence; he must have said something hilarious, because the whole group laughed and then we went on to fish.

As we descended the rocky embankment, the group went inside. The night was cool, still, hazy and moonless. Everything that wasn’t in shadow was faintly tinged blue, everything that was, seemed darker than black. The water was angry; powerful rollers roared as they crossed the rocky hump, other waves skirted the reef, assaulting the shoreline, often soaking me head to toe.

To get a feel for the sweeping tide, I clipped on a needlefish and cast it a few times, varying the angle to ascertain the strength of the current. A large rock poked through the surface to my immediate right and about 60 feet out. Pat told me that the water between the shore and that rock often gives up a decent fish. So once I got a feel for the water, I angled a cast to cut through that zone.

As promised, as the needle darted through the pocket, I felt gentle bump and there was sudden life as a decent fish went on a short run. It was right around then, that I felt eyes on my back. As I positioned myself to land the fish, and watching for the next roller, I was overcome by the compulsion to look behind me.

Looking up 20 feet and to my left, my eyes fixated on a short, stocky figure with hair down to its waist… even in full darkness, I could tell this person’s hair was pure white, framing a silhouette that was darker than a black hole. The figure stood in a menacing posture, leaning forward, arms held straight and slightly out from its waist, both hands clenched into fists. I tried to engage the person through my actions, looking back several times with my light on… but the figure wouldn’t give in. Remaining statuesque, at the top of the bluff, shiny white hair, gently drifting in the sea-driven breeze that howled up the slope with each pounding wave.

I landed the fish, a long and skinny 20-pounder. Admiring the bass, I briefly forgot that I wasn’t alone, and I allowed myself to relax and enjoy the moment. As I prepared to release it, I remembered and fired a glance up the slope to see that the figure was gone. Logic would suggest that it was just one of the group from the fire pit that wanted to breathe in the solitude of the night air, but I suppose it would be almost as possible that I had seen some protective spirit kept alive by local legend, sentenced to wander the property eternally since slipping into the Sound, ‘on a night just like tonight’.

A few minutes later, I bumped into the white-haired lady. She was friendly and complimented my fish, but seemed nervous or preoccupied. She asked, “Are you leaving?” I answered “no” only to look back as she passed and see that she, again, had vanished into the echoing dark. Strange but not alarming, just a random, solitary lady out in the new moon night. But, maybe we understood each other better than I realized, because there really is nothing like experiencing the power of the ocean through the blinded combination of your other senses, when sight is diminished by the dark.

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