Fisherman's Prayer

"Lord, suffer me to catch a fish so large that even I in talking of it afterward shall have no need to lie." - quote appeared on a sign in Herbert Hoover's fishing lodge.  - Baden-Powell the founder of the Boy Scout organization also kept a copy of this prayer on his desk at his English home, Pax Hill.


I posted the above quote on my facebook page just prior to heading out on a family vacation to Emerald Isle, NC. Careful what you pray for ...


I heard the big bluefish were in the surf from Hatteras to Topsail, so I thought it was fortuitous that earlier in the year we booked a mid-May week long vacation in Dream Weaver, a oceanfront cottage at Emerald Isle. We have stayed there before and the surf there appears well suited for fish. There's a slough running up and down the beach there, the waves break a little offshore and the water moves forward with another break right at the shore. Just to the front and to the left of the cottage is a cut in the sandbar allowing movement of water and fish with the tides and currents. My in-laws were coming along and my father-in-law, Dale brought his two surf rods. It should be noted, it appeared his reels still had the same line on them from last fall when we spooled them up with 20lb Triple Fish. He doesn't surf-fish much and I thought it would be great to do a little fishing and share some pointers with him. I had visions of us fighting whopper bluefish in the surf. 


I inspected my surf rods, tuned up my reels, putting fresh 20lb Triple Fish line on my favorites reels  - the Mitchell Nautil 7500's, my old favorite Mitchell Orca 90 and on my Diawa Emblem XT as well. On my Abu Gracia Ambassador I spooled it up with 12lb Berkley Trilene. I even spooled up my Alvey reel with 500 yards of 17lb Cajun Red Lightnin'.  On each reel, I also put 18 feet of fluorocarbon shock leader rated at least double the strength of my main fishing line. I made sure I had several two hook fireball rigs at the ready and I also made a dozen fishing finding rigs. As added insurance, I made sure my Hopkins Lures had new treble hooks and I purchased a couple of replacement Gotcha Plugs and a new Peanut Bunker Spoon. Suffice to say, I was not only ready for fishing, I was ready for some catching! 


When will I learn that hubris is not a good quality? The first day of fishing was rough, the surf was churning, a strong riptide was pulling our baits to the left and back towards shore. Rough, churning water can mean good fishing. Bait-fish can get disoriented in these conditions and predatory fish capitalize on their confusion. Unfortunate for us, there seemed to be no bait in the water, so we set out some rigs baited with frozen finger mullet of questionable age and also one with freshly dug up sand fleas. Not much happened at first, however after a while, my baits started to produce. Smooth Dogfish Sharks, and to add insult to injury, smoothies with a size best suited for a child's bath tub toy. 


The next day the surf conditions were about the same, perhaps slightly less rough. I started the morning at sunrise, sure the blues would be on the hunt, providing me with plenty to boast about at breakfast. Sunrise came and went. Nothing pulled on my lines. My father-in-law came out and set two sand spikes in the ground and cast his lines into the water. In short order, he catches an 8 pound Bluefish. I'm happy for him, of course, however I am just a little bit jealous that I didn't catch the first big fish. My wife and kids are are thrilled! "Paw caught a big fish!" the girls squeal. Everyone has to pose for pictures with the landed blue. Dale was most excited, he comments that this was the largest fish he ever caught. I'm not too worried,  I have three rods with rigs in the water and surely a big blue will take my bait. In fact one of my rods begins to twitch. I begin reeling in the line. The pull on the line tells me there is definitely not a bluefish on the terminal end. Pulling the rig from the water reveals yet another smooth dogfish. I curse a little, calling the shark an unseemly name. Upon a moment's reflection, I decide this is not a problem, there are more fish in the sea. Dale's line pulls again. He ups the ante with an even bigger bluefish. This time the fish shakes the hook. Just like that the bite is over. Nothing more takes our bait for hours. Later in the day our efforts are rewarded with more smooth dogfish. 

Dale and his Bluefish. That's me and Olivia beside him. That's my old Mitchell Orca 90 attached to the rod in my hand.

Next morning, I'm back out at sunrise. This morning I feel something "soft mouthing" my bait. My guess is that there must be a flounder out there chewing on the bait. I patiently wait for the fish to try and swim off with my circle hook in its mouth. He does, however something doesn't feel right. There's not much fight in the fish. I silently curse thinking another smooth dogfish is on the line. When the fish reveals itself in the surf, my cursing changes over to laughter. I did hook a flounder, only this flounder ranks as one of the smallest I've ever reeled in, stretched as straight as I can get it, it measures 8 inches. I unhook it and with one more chuckle I toss it back. Determined to take advantage of the sunrise bite bluefish are famous for, I whip out a Hopkins Lure, tie it to my Ambassador and up and down the beach I go, walking and casting. Still no success. With sunrise over, Dale comes out and cast his bait into the water. I return to our fishing spot and set up about twenty or thirty yards from him. Shortly after I set up, Dale's rod begins to bend. He lands a 10 pound bluefish. Determined now, more than ever to land one of these whopper bluefish, I fish as hard as I can, trying every trick I know. Cut mullet, pieces of bluefish, shrimp, sand fleas and artificial lures; I try them all. Nothing.

I could go on and on about the week's fishing; I just do not want to sound like a broken record. My fishing that week was not destined to yield much of anything. I couldn't fish every hour of every day; however I managed to greet every sunrise with my rod in hand and I was fishing at sunset on many days. By the end of the week, Dale had managed yet another 8 pound bluefish. I never got a whopper, yet I was not entirely skunked. I put a pigfish (Orthopristis chrysoptera) and two croakers in the cooler. I also caught two bluefish, however neither tipped the scale at over 1 pound. I lost count of all the smooth dogfish I caught and even though most were just pups, I did manage to catch (and return) one after sunset that was almost three feet in length.

Image of a Smooth Dogfish (source: Florida Museum of Natural History  - flmnh.ufl.edu)

Please do not think that the green eyed monster of envy rears its ugly head in my thoughts. I am glad I was there when Dale caught the big blues, it is always great to witness someones "biggest fish ever." I was there when my father caught his biggest fish ever, I feel equally blessed to be there the day my father-in-law caught his. I admit my pride got hurt a little, however that's not a big deal. I remind myself, it's the fishing that's important, not the fish.