Daily Fishing and Outdoor Report
Above: One last look at a peaceful Holgate. What awaits is all bad.
Young email: Jay, Will this storm really hurt Holgate?
At this erosional point, a heavy dew can kick the stuffing out of Holgate. A three-day storm will knock it back to the Stone Age, i.e. the time of the last Beach Haven Inlet. Here's a telling photo of the 1930s Holgate parking area. I got this photo off FB so I'm not sure of its source -- or ownership.
Saturday, October 27, 2012: I've been bizarrely busy this day before the day before the day before the night of the storm.
I did a spot of early a.m. fishing in Holgate but couldn't concentrate with all the fear-of-weather distractions.
Close-up of scaliness:
Larger slammer blues now on-scene. Of course, we won't be able to get at them for a stormy stint.
STORM NOTE: I intend on staying on LBI for the storm, as both a reporter and also an official observer for the National Weather Service. If authorities decide to shut off LBI's electricity, it'll put a hurting on my on-scene FaceBooking and such. I don't have WiFi capacities that would allow me to stay online during power outages. However, I will be writing it all down for later publication. Also, my cellphone (609-290-1968) should be working. If important info (observations) comes your way as you stay on the Island (or the mainland), please let me know so I can pass it on to The Weather Service.
STORM POSSESSED SANDERLING?: Talk about this storm hype going to my head, I was driving the beach and came across one of those adorable or so sanderlings acting beyond strangely.
I was literally going around in circles, spastically. I had never seen the likes. It was half running, half flying, half flitting and half doing summersaults. Ok, so I’m not much on fractions.
Damn if my dizzily Sandyfied mind didn't instantly flash on prophetic words, surely out there somewhere : And before the Great Storm, creatures great and small, will be seen doing odd and foreboding dances, as if possessed by demons. Damn, Sam, here I was seeing it, sanderling-style. This is surely a sign of stormage to come.
However, on closer less prophetically jagged inspection, the poor little bugger had gotten leg-snared on what I first thought was some partially buried fishing line. I got anglers off the hook by determining it was kite string. Damn kiteists. Give ‘em an inch /…
Anyway, I finally managed to de-string the delicate bugger – but not before it delicately pecked my hand one good with its sand-probing beak. It even drew a little blood
Note: The instant I grabbed that high-metabolismed flier, I was fully amazed by its body temp. Holding it gently in my hand, I swear it was better than one of them-there butane-power hand warmers. In fact, the next time my hands get cold when fishing, I’ll cast net me a slew of sanderling and let them bring the feeling back to my digits.
Previous blog email and answer: