Daily Fishing and Outdoor Report
Saturday, October 09, 2010:
Note: We are having some problems with the Classic fax system, which gets weigh-in data out to shops and committee folks in real time, i.e. when the shop weighs in a fish. I have one report of a 15-something bass. I can’t read much of the form.
As for fishing, the ocean seemed so low-fish that I had to be told twice about a surfcaster who caught a 34-pound bass on the “south end.” It wasn’t Holgate. Nope, it wasn’t a Classic entrant, even though the guy had apparently been told ahead of time to sign up but said he’d get to it later. Wow. Thanks for showing us there was that big a fish in our midst.
The most I had seen all day was a small striper down toward the Rip.
Tiny snappers are making short order of the largest chunk baits, long before bigger fish (bass of slammers) can get at the chunks.
Speaking of chunks, the corncob mullet are running huge. These make exceptional chunk baits. In fact, they’re a lot tougher for snappers to steal. There is supposedly bait loaded up north (Ortley) that might be heading this way. Of course, all too often those up-north sightings never reach our line-of-sight.
The ocean water temps are dropping, though they remain many degrees above normal. Penetrating sun all day won’t help the cause.
YET ANOTHER STAND-OFF:
Picture a perfect day and you had it today. In fact, for beach buggy anglers it was a tad too ideal. The beaches quickly took on the look, feel and fullness of tourist time, even though we’re well past tourist season and, supposedly, we locals are supposed to have our Island back.
I had a series of unpleasant meets-and-greets as I tried to drive the front beach from Brant Beach southward. I had to finally secede – abandon the front beach -- after yet another epic Mexican stand-off with some sassy folks who had lain perfectly across the only drivable passage point around a tight jetty end area.
After a polite explanation on why it was the only place to get by, I had to suffer through one of those asinine “We own a house here” arrogances, as if that absentee ownership affords some god-like empowerment over us residents. In this case, it was an alleged house-owning goddess, and utterly full of herself gal. And not nearly as comely as she thought, in her breathtaking one-piece bathing suit -- breathtaking thanks to the over tight fit around her bulbous middle.
I know that’s vindictive speak on my part but this gal was quite the belittler, with remarks like “You blankety-blank fishermen” and (I cringe to even repeat it) “My son is a cop.”
That did segue nicely into my cellphone gesture to call real cops.
It was her boyfriend’s talking down of this woman -- after her “Go ahead and call them” retort -- that saved the day. My guess is either he or his portentous and contentious gal pal might not fare well in the presence of legal authorities.
By the by, if I could have backed down and backtracked I would have done so. However, I had already wound and weaved through more beachgoers than I cared to revisit.
(Message to Mike: Sleep tight.)