Donald and I cruised the beach on Tuesday and saw miles and miles of gannets dive bombing on what we assumed was herring. When we saw a sea gull pecking a fresh dead bunker on the beach, we changed our assumption to herring and bunker. We took a few casts with poppers here and there, mostly to stretch out and lubricate the gears, and all the while did not see anything pop on the surface aside from our plugs. The gannets would hit one area hard and then move on with no fish showing. Since gannets have the ability to work on their own- they don't necessarily need stripers or bluefish- we didn't try that hard and just called it a nice day outside in April.
So far I am continuing with my checking it with the rods ready approach- not really fishing yet. I mean, in my quarter century, I remember not really looking to fish the beach in April unless it looked like something was going on. I multi-tasked with that this weekend and did something I've wanted to do for some time- which is walk to the pier.
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| It was a great afternoon for a long hike in New Mexico weather |
My mom joined me, and we had a nice afternoon getting some nice exercise while observing 'Easter people'. Easter people displayed some common behavioral traits. They would enter the beach as an obvious group, usually consisting of overdressed three generational members and a dog. They would strip to barefoot and walk down to the water, still as a unit, with the dog running around them in circles. Then they would break apart- one group, usually the members aged 30 or less would, for some reason, run out into the 50 degree water and the other group would walk head down looking for beach glass, which there isn't much of anymore since they slowed the dumping. It was all good, though, and it was nice to see people enjoying the beach in their own way.
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| Easter people |
On a more meaningful note, the foreshadow of the opening paragraph was for the passing of a great surf fisherman, Bob McGinley. The story of Bob does not need any explanation, for those who already know him, by family or from the beach, know. Bob was a presence- a fish catching machine and a great teacher to anyone willing to sincerely learn his mastery. I do believe Bob has moved on his journey- the sad part is the separation. I will miss his drawl, the way he talked, you got to put eeeyes awn it. Bob was a great man.
I don't want to be dark, but the hourglass is upside down for all of us. I picture life as being in a barrel. All around is chaos- the wave- but inside the roar is the space for calm. And all motion while in the barrel, every breath, every leg adjustment, the dilation of the pupils- all of it is directed towards getting to the light at the end of the tunnel. Don't stick your hand in the wave, wipe out, and have a fin slice your stomach open. Instead, enjoy the ride to the light because if that's where you want to go you're going to go that way anyway.
That is all. Don't rest Bob. You weren't a clam fisherman :) Keep fishing.
