Ahhhh, there's nothing like the smell of striped bass in your truck when you're driving home from the beach. Not from bass being in the backseat but the smell of fish and the ocean coming off your hands and clothes. It had been a while since my cab smelled like that. And, for a while there this morning, I didn't think I would smell bass again.
Started on the mid ebb on the rocks. For some reason that's where I picked to fish. Worked up and down first with a sand eel fly then going to a baitfish imitation. Nada. The weather was great and the water looked even better. The pea soup fog rolled in and out as mid morning turned to noon.
As I was giving up Andy came up the beach and we stopped and talked. I didn't even ask if he got any because, well, I didn't get any so, in my twisted head, there were no fish around. But eventually I did ask......and he landed 9. I was dismayed. I haven't been able to get one on the beach in a week or so. The boat has ben good but the beach and rocks elusive.
He started telling me he's been fishing the long stretches of beaches and staying away from going on the rocks. Sounded good to me, but I think I'm just in a skunk rut. I walked away shaking my head and put my stuff in the truck and figured I'd head home. But then I thought of this spot...mmmmmm.
At my "new" spot I made about a dozen casts before coming tight on the above fish. It felt good to catch a striped bass on the beach again. I could have left since I felt so good about myself, I know pathetic, but I stayed for a bit more. I made a few more casts and went tight again, but this time only for a moment.
I left the beach with a smile thinking that I still got it after all.