As promised, this was the first weekend out in New England for me. Let me first say, I have the most wonderfully supportive wife in the world. It's her Birthday this weekend, and despite it being a big one, she didn't even complain once about me leaving to go fishing TWICE- missing two whole evenings with her. I really do appreciate that, and had time to reflect on it with all the interstate drive time. I do not deny for even a millisecond, I'm a lucky guy who in no way deserves her.
So anyways, I started fishing Friday night in MA. The original plan was to fish RI, after seeing at least 10 reports of "off the charts" fishing- a couple I trusted, and a few I didn't, but in aggregate I figured at least there were SOME fish around. But then I saw a report from an acquaintance of my mine on the North Shore that he was into schoolies on Thursday afternoon/evening. My hands practically trembled reading that. This, in combination with the fact that I had a very terrible week at work (ever heard of an R01 grant?), convinced me I didn't want or need to drive 100 minutes to RI but could stay closer to home.
If you don't want to read any further: I got skunked all weekend. Embarrassing. Like, I legitimately feel embarrassed. Details in the rest of the post:
I rushed home from work on Friday and started gathering my things that had been scattered from the combination of going to CA, NC, and neglecting to get anything ready yet because I hadn't even planned on starting to fish until this next coming weekend, and only as scouting. So the early spring left me totally unprepared is what I'm saying.
I'm changing line, trying to find camera batteries, sharpening hooks, changing wader boot laces, trying to track down my fleece pants for under my waders, "WHERE IS MY WATER BOTTLE HOLDER!?!?!", etc.
I, admittedly, don't have the richest creek/river/estruarie bench to call on in these early spring situations.
And with fish on the NS, I just figured; there's got to be migrating fish, so they must be running the beaches.
I finally get my shit together and hit the water around 8pm.
The moment I stepped on the beach, I knew it was game over. The tides are crap all weekend, and I hit my spot- a good one- at literally the worst stage of the tide. I guess I just totally overlooked it in my excitement to get out. It crossed my mind- the fact that the tide height was low and that I'd be hitting it part way through the tide- but it didn't register.
So I fished structure-less water for about 2 hours with sluggos, the damn SP, small metal lips, and bucktails. Not even a bump.
My only consolations were a) I was fishing and it's April b) my wife is kind enough to be supportive enough to understand I HAD to go c) other people were fishing near by (other fools like myself) c) I could fish mostly without gloves.
I then scouted another nearby area but it was COVERED in weed and garbage, and there were a few jokers out shinning their lights around, and I figured for sure the cops were going to come since they sounded pretty drunk, so I bounced out of there quick. Save it for another day, I thought.
Saturday I was pretty damn tired still from the hell-ish week (and recouping from "vacation" the week before), but I bucked up and drove the 90 miles to RI.
I showed up during magic hour- started fishing right around 7:45. Literally 10 casts in I'm slowly SLOWLY cranking my 16a chicken scratch bomber through a rocky spot and it gets slammed by a fish. I was day dreaming and barely set the hook. The drag slipped on the VS150 as I had it set looser for the 20lb powerpro, but this was not a 20" fish. The fish dove right away, and then the line went slack as it changed direction and came FLYING out of the water in a full breach. I watched, heartbreakingly, as my lure was tossed like it was thrown from the basses mouth.
The whole thing lasted 10 seconds maybe.
My heart wouldn't stop pounding for at least 10 minutes.
Since it happened in the first 10 minutes I thought for sure I was in for a night of good fishing.
But that would be it. I'd have 1 more bump on said bomber about an hour later that I didn't convert, and despite throwing everything from 1/2oz jig head/soft minnow combo up to 2oz danny plugs, I didn't land another fish. I saw a total of 4 other fisherman, and all before 9:30pm.
The time flew though, as I was concentrated after that single fish. And I ended up looking down at my watch and being shocked it was 12:15am!
Again, the tides were not ideal- or rather, I don't know RI quite well enough yet to know what to do with the tides I had- and I think my biggest mistake was fishing into the deep night. This time of year, I am better off fishing day break and late afternoon and into the evening. But, even knowning this, I just had no choice- because I couldn't be so heartless as to ditch Carly during the day on Saturday and Sunday. I wanted her to keep "letting me" (that's not how our relationship works, but you know what I mean) fish, and that was not the way to do it.
Anyways, the water is just too cold yet on the beach for deep night fishing, unless you are in a source of warm water- which, foolishly again, I was not.
This week could be good, or bad. The weather is fairly cool, with colder nights, so I'm not overly optimistic. But, there is a big new moon coming. Tide heights are significant. I will be out minimum Thursday through Saturday night. I've got big ideas, and I'm PISSED I didn't catch anything this weekend.
I will have my revenge.