"Surf Rat"
Father's Day
June 18, 2000
Been having that gypsy itch for the surf. And have been doing my homework
and getting back in the groove of beachology. I came across a pretty
nice fishing hole near Gilgo Beach, and had my moving four wheel drive tackle
store with me. For whatever I may come across, I had Barry, my fishing partner
in crime with me. I got to the spot a little early to set up and get the
entire incoming tide right of off the full moon. The weather man was screaming
for rain all day, yeah right. That's like believing the politicians' promises
right before an election. About 20 percent accurate. I had studied the weather
map and saw a break in the weather and called my friend Barry who said, "Dave
you're crazy, it's pouring out." I said, "Look dude, after this
downpour, we'll have 6 hours of fishing without a drop." He grunted
and said "pick me up." I drove to Queens, got my amigo and shot down toward
Jones Beach.
The rain stopped and we set up. This time we were prepared with
sandwiches, Doritos, coffee and sodas. A real healthy diet if I say so myself.
The tide was dead low. And coming up on slack tide. Not a hell of a lot
doing on slack, dudes. We put on some tunes, and threw out a few sandworms.
Guess what the rods were doing the kingfish twitch. In the South better
known as sea mullet. I told Barry these fish are great bait. He gave me
that "anything you say, Dave" look. So we had about four of them.
The tide made her turn. I threw out a bunker chunk sandworm. Barry had
out a small crab cut in half and a kingfish chunk. This rod got slammed
so hard I thought it would shatter. He knew he had a good fish on. A few
minutes later a beautiful weakfish close to 9 lbs., a real fat pig. Threw
out the same kingfish chunk and got slammed again on a decent striper. I
said to him in a "condescending way", "what do you think
of king fish chunks now?" I got the hand jester. We caught everything,
fluke, stripers, weakfish, kingfish even a few fluke. And of course sea robbins
and skates. The fish could have cared less for the bunker this day "and
it was a fresh as could be," it still had pulse.
The time flew by and the skies around 8 PM got a little green. You know
when the hair goes up on the back of your neck, then it's time
to leave. Barry just coasted out and I was redoing a rig when a bolt
of lightning hit about 10 feet from us. I dropped the rod right there
and ran into the car. Barry was a blur going right in front of me.
We were laughing our butts off. Holy Mother of God. That is as close I ever
want to be to lightning. I couldn't see too well, the flash sort of
blinded me; like when you have some idiot take a picture at point blank
with a flash. "So Barry, how about you get the rods and throw them
in the truck?" "They're your rods," he replied. "Yeah,
but I drove us here." "Yeah Dave, I bought the lunch." "Yeah
I bought most of the bait." "Okay on the the count of three, we
both get 'em, 'ready, go'" No sooner did I open my door, the sky right
above us ripped the craziest lightning bolt you ever saw, that spider webbed
right over our heads. We both jumped back in the truck. Damn, the car is
the only thing grounded, we're the highest thing on the beach. Go grab a
surf rod and you're a lightning rod experiment, ready to be barbecued extra
crisp. No thank you. We waited a few minutes and literally threw everything
into the truck and got off that beach. Nothing like a little electrical
rush I always say.
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Been having that gypsy itch for the surf. And have been doing my homework and getting back in the groove of beachology. I came across a pretty nice fishing hole near Gilgo Beach, and had my moving four wheel drive tackle store with me. For whatever I may come across, I had Barry, my fishing partner in crime with me. I got to the spot a little early to set up and get the entire incoming tide right of off the full moon. The weather man was screaming for rain all day, yeah right. That's like believing the politicians' promises right before an election. About 20 percent accurate. I had studied the weather map and saw a break in the weather and called my friend Barry who said, "Dave you're crazy, it's pouring out." I said, "Look dude, after this downpour, we'll have 6 hours of fishing without a drop." He grunted and said "pick me up." I drove to Queens, got my amigo and shot down toward Jones Beach.
The rain stopped and we set up. This time we were prepared with sandwiches, Doritos, coffee and sodas. A real healthy diet if I say so myself. The tide was dead low. And coming up on slack tide. Not a hell of a lot doing on slack, dudes. We put on some tunes, and threw out a few sandworms. Guess what the rods were doing the kingfish twitch. In the South better known as sea mullet. I told Barry these fish are great bait. He gave me that "anything you say, Dave" look. So we had about four of them. The tide made her turn. I threw out a bunker chunk sandworm. Barry had out a small crab cut in half and a kingfish chunk. This rod got slammed so hard I thought it would shatter. He knew he had a good fish on. A few minutes later a beautiful weakfish close to 9 lbs., a real fat pig. Threw out the same kingfish chunk and got slammed again on a decent striper. I said to him in a "condescending way", "what do you think of king fish chunks now?" I got the hand jester. We caught everything, fluke, stripers, weakfish, kingfish even a few fluke. And of course sea robbins and skates. The fish could have cared less for the bunker this day "and it was a fresh as could be," it still had pulse.
The time flew by and the skies around 8 PM got a little green. You know when the hair goes up on the back of your neck, then it's time to leave. Barry just coasted out and I was redoing a rig when a bolt of lightning hit about 10 feet from us. I dropped the rod right there and ran into the car. Barry was a blur going right in front of me. We were laughing our butts off. Holy Mother of God. That is as close I ever want to be to lightning. I couldn't see too well, the flash sort of blinded me; like when you have some idiot take a picture at point blank with a flash. "So Barry, how about you get the rods and throw them in the truck?" "They're your rods," he replied. "Yeah, but I drove us here." "Yeah Dave, I bought the lunch." "Yeah I bought most of the bait." "Okay on the the count of three, we both get 'em, 'ready, go'" No sooner did I open my door, the sky right above us ripped the craziest lightning bolt you ever saw, that spider webbed right over our heads. We both jumped back in the truck. Damn, the car is the only thing grounded, we're the highest thing on the beach. Go grab a surf rod and you're a lightning rod experiment, ready to be barbecued extra crisp. No thank you. We waited a few minutes and literally threw everything into the truck and got off that beach. Nothing like a little electrical rush I always say.