Wow. It’s on now. An epic session went down yesterday, so good that I couldn’t go more that seven casts without a hit or a fish for the better part of two and a half hours. I got out to where I wanted to fish, had a hit on the second cast and dropped a fish on the fourth cast. ‘They’re here’ I shouted out into the abyss, alone. With life from two fish on only four casts, I went back to the Jeep and removed some clothing because I knew it was going to be a hot night. Back at the water I slammed three fish in no time. Rick and Steve showed up as planned and we charged them pretty good for the next two hours!
The fish were bright, fresh, and trashy- new fish. They were maniacal on the sand, doing cartwheels and jumps and spins and were scary to unhook. When Steve and I heard an arrrrggghhh from the shoreline, we rushed to shore and found exactly what we expected from someone who doesn’t moan much. On the top of Rick’s finger, a hook was buried clear through the shank, attached to a needlefish that was still attached to a pissed off striper. AHHHHH!!!!! Steve ran and got the hook cutters, and after removing the hook away from the lure which was still attached to the fish, Rick stood up to operate on the hook hanging out of his hand.
Fortunately, the hook was in well past the barb, so Rick offered a lesson of what to do in this situation. As Rick steadied his hand, Steve cut the hook below the barb so Rick could slide the hook ‘back out’ without any impedance. One, two, GO! Rick said little as he quickly slid a half an inch of hook back out of his skin, professional and even tempered as always. Ahhh what a relief! Hey Rick, can we go back to fishing now?
Back at the water, Steve was on instantly. I cast out and hooked up in about three cranks of the reel. What a night! After some first aid, Rick came back out and slammed one on his first cast too. The bite lasted until the tide started to slack, turning to a pick and then nothing. In total, I landed 15 bass to 36 inches and dropped or had hits from just as many. I ended the night with a small weakfish on the Shoestring. It doesn’t get any better!
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| As Steve said, the bass were horny. They were hopped up on something, and never stopped twirling and trashing once on shore. Notice the erect dorsal fins. |
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| Burying a hook in oneself is a rite of passage. Fortunately we never missed a beat and all slammed a fish on the first cast after the hook removal. |
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| The Shoestring now joins a short alliteration list of my favorite teasers: Skippy, Shell E, Steve, and Shoestring |
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| I left on a high note. Even small weakfish cannot resist the allure of the Shoestring Teaser |
