I have these vivid memories of fishing late April back when I was younger and could tolerate a March to December season. About this time in April I used to move from a very long and famous rockpile where i caught the earliest of spring stripers to a different spot in RI where there was bigger fish potential. I won't burn the spot but will say there is a very popular bar there which almost gets washed away every storm but always seems to survive. That bar has an outdoor deck that is almost like a roof over you head when you are fishing and the tide is up driving you back away from the water.

Now this is a long time ago and in those days almost everybody used rubber waders. They weighed about 40 pounds and at the risk of exposing my vanity , made you look fat.

Now i would be fishing there maybe midnight or so and these total A holes would come out of the bar onto the deck and do what was probably , although unknown to them , one of the most dangerous things they have ever dome in their lives. These totally inebriated jerks would stand on that deck , beer in hand and while I was fishing , they would call me "Porky"!!!

Now I got to tell you that I played sports and lifted weights my whole life and even wrestled in college and at the time I'm describing I was a mir 245 but strong as an ox with unusual endurance and fairly skilled at taking care of myself. Some nights i would ignore them but some nights when my dander was up i would egg them bastards on trying to get them to come down off that deck to the beach and call me "Porky" when they where within the radius of my outstrectch arms. I thought about and sometimes even prayed that i could just get them close enough for me to get even just one hand on them and then the real fun could start! I always thought it would be fitting punishment to drag them into the water and near drown them until they went limp with defeat then take their pants and send the pants out with the dropping tied and let them figure out how to get back in the bar or home with no pants. :) . After all , if you get so drunk that you call a big man who spends his weekend nights in the surf while you feather your candy ass at a bar , you deserve whatever punishment comes you way for calling such a man "Porky".

Well thats my story about one of the vivid memories of years gone by involving fishing the RI coast in late April. I hope you enjoyed my sharing my memories. :)

Here's a nicer bar story for ya.

A neighbor used to flyfish for bass/bluefish out of a tin boat nearby. One night near dusk he hooked a large bluefish and as he fought it he drifted between the jetties below a large bluff at the top of which sat the Cape Codder Hotel. They had a bar with a veranda where people sat and watched the sunset, so he had quite an audience. He landed the fish after a long fight and his boat drifted close to the beach while he was unhooking it. As he released it, a waiter with his pants rolled up came wading out his boat with a tray and a glass of champagne sent from above. He toasted them, guzzled it down, and rowed out to fish some more.

Nice saturday morning reads.

Speaking of fishing in front of same bar, check with Redlite about the night the remnants of Hurricane Charlie were coming through :rotf2: (wasn't much storm)

Saltheart,maybe try a salad.Generally when I fish there,drunk chicks wanna be my friends.(unfortunately,usually I am way too sober for those beasts):)

drink them pretty.

And whatever you do, don't spend the night, because you're sure to wake up sober in the morning. :err: