Text 8952, 107 rader
Skriven 2006-12-17 22:43:00 av JIM WELLER (1:123/140)
     Kommentar till en text av DALE SHIPP
Ärende: Another Simon story pt 1
================================
 -=> Quoting Dale Shipp to Jim Weller <=-

 JW> his face liquefied and melted off his
 JW> head, just like the bad guy at the end of "Raiders of the Lost Ark."

 DS> Nice story -- thanks.

One more then...

It's late in the season, and not many people are still on the beaches
surf-fishing at this time of year, but some of my friends (The Noisy
Boys) were enthused about coming down to the Point two weeks ago, so as
not to miss what might just be 20006's Last Great Run of Fish.  On an
October weekend two years ago, everyone caught the limit of extra-large
striped bass that had assembled near the beach at Cape May Point, to
prey on the schools of little baitfish making their autumn migration out
of Delaware Bay.  The guys hoped not to miss any similar adventure this
year.

On that Friday night, I stayed up quite late along with a few others who
(like me) had *no* desire to go fishing early the next morning.  Played
pinochle, a few games of Clue, drank some wonderful, steeply discounted
Beaujolais and then later a lot of coffee and liqueurs, went for a walk
on the windswept beach.  My plans to sleep very late Saturday morning
were thwarted at around 7:30am when I opened one eye and noticed a small
face and pair of eyes only about an inch away from my own.  Breathing
just very lightly but very directly in my face.

It was Von, who is about 6 years old, and I don't know how long he'd
been in my face whispering my name.  I think he was trying to obey his
father and wake me up, but without irritating me by waking me up.  It
took me some time to comprehend what he was doing in my face and what he
was saying, as I was groggy and he speaks Vietnamese that is randomly
accessorized with some misleading English words.  It seemed that Von was
saying his father had sent him to get me, and to tell me that the fish
were beating up his father.  Or, the fish were all crazy and were
attacking his father.  There were a lot of fish, and they were all
fighting with everyone.

I grabbed the phone and the binoculars and ran out onto the deck, but
looking out over the dunes I couldn't see The Noisy Boys fishing
anywhere.  So I called Von's father, who was super excited because they
were all catching tuna from the beach, and he insisted I come right
away.

On a technical note, it may be theoretically *possible* to catch a tuna
while surf fishing, but I've never heard of such a thing.  And none of
The Noisy Boys are *not* what one might consider Reliable Sources about
such things.

So Von and I ran around towards Sunset Beach and found the guys there.
All having an  unusual amount of fun, yelling at me in Vienglish.  They
directed my eyes toward the water and...  Oh my yikes!  *There* was
something I have never seen before.  It looked as if somewhere, deep
under the water, someone had sunk a giant submersible blender and turned
it on high.  The surface of the water appeared to be boiling, and a mass
of gulls were circling  overhead and diving at the surface.  This is not
uncommon, it happens when a school of predator fish encircles and
attacks a school of smaller baitfish.  But I had never seen such a large
expanse of water boiling and churning so violently, nor seen this happen
*so* close to the beach.   Whatever was preying on the baitfish had
backed them right up against the shallow surf and the little fish were
not going to escape.

To make a long story short...  it had taken The Noisy Boys some time to
figure out what kind fish were storming the beach because, at first,
these large fish they were hooking just snapped their lines as if they
were paper, and had shredded their tackle.  When they swapped out reels
with heavier line and sturdier tackle, the mystery predators had
disappeared.  The guys waited, and then just as suddenly the predators
reassembled for another assault on the baitfish and another crashing
drive towards the beach.  By then, the guys had more suitable, stronger
lines in the water, but whatever creatures they were catching didn't
know the meaning of the word "surrender."  The guys had to abandon the
custom of each having two rods and two lines in the water at the same
time, and instead fight these things one on one, Man Against Fish.  They
said it was taking them at least 20 minutes of fighting to get these
things to the beach, often longer than that in order to prevent lines
and rods from snapping, that it was like trying to reel in some racing
cars.  I watched one of the lines with a fish on it speed to the right,
abruptly halt and spin to the left, zig zagging under the water.  It
reminded me of a large and powerful bottle rocket I once launched out in
the yard; it zipped all over the place, hitting every wall and tree and
table and porch railing, ricocheting wildly without ever heading up into
the sky.  Once my friends landed a few of these things and looked them
up in a guide, they matched the fish to the picutres.  False Albacore.
Also known as Albies or Little Tunny.  And described as being related to
the Tuna Family.

That's why my guys were feeling all big and bold and bad, as if they
were doing something never done before, never seen before.  Catching
tuna from the beach.

to be con't


Cheers

Jim, in Yellowknife




... My neighbor has a treadmill... and a riding lawn mower.
___ Blue Wave/386 v2.30
--- Platinum Xpress/Win/WINServer v3.0pr5
 * Origin: Try Our Web Based QWK: DOCSPLACE.ORG (1:123/140)