Fishin' accomplished
Unless you count the part (I do not) where we stayed up drinking till 2 in the morning the night before, the expedition commenced by automobile at the insane hour of 4:30 in the morning. My memory of this part is sketchy, but I do recall hearing both "Immigrant Song" and "Spanish Techno"--these two songs would bounce back and forth in my skull all day long. I also drank coffee. And I sat in the back seat because I was also too sleepy to call shotgun. At some point along the drive, I ate the biscuit-based, fast food product that I would later puke over the side of the boat for my seagull buddies.
Read the rest . . .We arrived at the dock, waited 45 minutes for the member of the expedition who overslept, then weighed anchor (not really) and set out in search of the elusive striped bass, a.k.a. "striper" (not to be confused with Stryper), a.k.a. "rockfish." And they do rock (still not to be confused with Stryper).
Recognizing that my readers are not all as rugged and badass as I am, I feel a few words are in order about the striped bass. First, you should know that this is one crafty fish--among the most intelligent and dangerous in the world. (Little-known fact: Ian Fleming based his fictional SPECTRE organization on striper society.) Striper are vicious predators, typically hunting in packs of 10-15. A striper pack can pick a cow's carcass clean in seconds. In addition to cows, striper also feed on sharks, whales, bathers, aligators, kayaks, and the like. Striper have even been known to attack ships on the high seas--sinking them, eating their crews in a frenzy of blood and bones, then looting the wreckage for treasure. Striper are fond of booty.
As we steamed (not really) out to the rocks where we suspected striper might be found, the mood on the boat was tense. We'd all made peace with our loved ones before departing, but the thought of striper--lurking somewhere out there in the cold Atlantic waters--terrified us all.
And so on. Here's me with the first fish I ever caught (I had to pixelate the faces for my own protection--in case this fish's family has Internet access):
(photo by M.F.)
Read the rest . . .We arrived at the dock, waited 45 minutes for the member of the expedition who overslept, then weighed anchor (not really) and set out in search of the elusive striped bass, a.k.a. "striper" (not to be confused with Stryper), a.k.a. "rockfish." And they do rock (still not to be confused with Stryper).
Recognizing that my readers are not all as rugged and badass as I am, I feel a few words are in order about the striped bass. First, you should know that this is one crafty fish--among the most intelligent and dangerous in the world. (Little-known fact: Ian Fleming based his fictional SPECTRE organization on striper society.) Striper are vicious predators, typically hunting in packs of 10-15. A striper pack can pick a cow's carcass clean in seconds. In addition to cows, striper also feed on sharks, whales, bathers, aligators, kayaks, and the like. Striper have even been known to attack ships on the high seas--sinking them, eating their crews in a frenzy of blood and bones, then looting the wreckage for treasure. Striper are fond of booty.
As we steamed (not really) out to the rocks where we suspected striper might be found, the mood on the boat was tense. We'd all made peace with our loved ones before departing, but the thought of striper--lurking somewhere out there in the cold Atlantic waters--terrified us all.
And so on. Here's me with the first fish I ever caught (I had to pixelate the faces for my own protection--in case this fish's family has Internet access):
(photo by M.F.)
2 Comments:
Department Of Teaching A Man To Fish
If you decide to go fishing in the Chesapeake Bay, here's how to catch striped bass:
1. Bring a CB radio and listen to what the captains of charter boats are saying (they will be blabbing to each other all day about where the fish are).
2. Head for the rocks near the Bay Bridge-Tunnel.
3. Don't waste your time fishing when there is no current. Striper are experts in the pursuit of slack and will lie around all day waiting for a tide to bring them food.
4. When you find a current, you can pretty much catch these fish with any sort of lure you want. Hell, a bare hook on a string would probably work just fine. As soon as we found a place near the rocks where the tide was making the water move, the verb for what were were doing shifted from "fishing" (i.e. sitting around doing nothing) to "harvesting." It was pretty crazy.
5. If rough waters (or swingsets, or merry-go-rounds) make you queasy, try to avoid fishing in the Chesapeake Bay on a hungover stomach with next-to-no sleep. If a hangover and lack of sleep cannot be avoided, keep your eyes on the horizon--don't look at the rocks, the boat, the nearby water, your fishing line in the water, etc. Watching the horizon is your only hope.
I have tears in my eyes, for you have returned. Painful, perforated tears? No. The other kind.
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Speaking as a scientist, etc.