piemma
03-19-2023, 02:07 PM
This one has Not been published....yet:
Magical Places and Visitors from the past.
All of us who wander the surf line in the 0’ dark 30 hours have, at one time or another, felt like they were being watch. It’s human nature to be fearful of the night when in the surf on a dark and stormy night. Places that are benevolent and peaceful in the daylight become havens for demons of our own minds in the middle of the night. These are stories from years in the surf on those kinds of nights when the ghost of fishermen from the past came to visit.
The Old Fisherman at Narrow River
Back in the late 80s and early 90s, Narrow River was my “go to” spot in Narragansett. I used to fish it morning and night from March until December in any kind of weather, wind and tide. Late one October I was fishing the bottom of the tide on what we called the “bump”. The “bump” is an anomaly at the River that actually causes the river to be higher than the surrounding water at the very bottom of the tide. The reason is quite simple. The volume of water rushing out of the river causes the river to “bump” up making it appear to be higher than the surrounding water.
It was a very rainy night with a NE wind just hollowing and the rain coming sideways. In the 17 and 18 hundreds there were many shipwrecks outside of the river on Cormorant Rock and the surrounding structure. It is always a bit spooky on the new moon with no ambient light source. I worked my way out to the edge of the sandbar that setups at the front of the river opposite River Rock. On the “bump” you can get way out so you end up opposite from River Rock. The current swings right so if you throw your lure at River Rock you will get a nice drift over the front of the river when the fish usually stage.
I made a dozen casts and was into a slow pick of teen size fish on a black Danny plug. As I released a fish, I felt like there was someone behind me. I turned and saw a figure dressed in a long raincoat, down below his knees and a Sou’wester floppy hat…..all black, no fishing gear. I thought it was strange for someone to be out in that kind of weather, at 2:00 AM with no fishing gear but I released the fish and went back to casting. Now I was a little uneasy but I was there to fish, it was nasty and I was going to keep fishing. I glanced back and the figure was gone. Ah, some guy out for a walk, probably couldn’t sleep because of the wind.
I fished for another ½ hour and the tide and the bite had died so I headed back in. As I walked back in from the bar I saw the figure again, this time up in the dunes, just watching me. Same outfit, not moving. Now I’m getting a little freaked out. I snap on my neck light and he’s gone….again. Now I’m thinking that I’m hallucinating. Dark, rainy, windy night, I’m dead tired and beat up from fishing since March.
I headed down the beach toward Narragansett and trudged alone. When you fish the surf, you are always looking at the water. Both for fish signs and to make sure a rogue wave doesn’t sneak up on you and smack you. I got half way down the beach and I looked out at the water and there is the figure again except this time he is standing ON THE WATER!! Holy crap, he’s waving at me! I stopped dead in my tracks and snapped on my neck light again and ….nothing.
There is no question in my mind that I saw what I saw. The only explanation is that it was some lost soul who had perished in a shipwreck long ago on a stormy October night.
Napatree Point
Napatree Point is a long spit of land that extends from Watch Hill almost to Fisher Island. From the beach club to the end of the point is a mile plus walk. Back in the 1930s the spit of land was covered with houses and the area was known at Fort Road. The 1938 hurricane wiped out the 40 houses that were on Fort Road and took many, many lives. It is not surprising that there would be spirits in this desolate area. It is also interesting to note that the area is also known for the number of suicides that have subsequently taken place there.
Early November and the Naps, as we affectionately call the area, is a great stop to find the last of the big Stripers as they work their way South. Little Narragansett Bay, which is on the mainland side of Napatree Point, is a hot bed of bait and forage. On a dropping tide all of this “food” gets flushed by the end of Napatree Point.
It was long, cold, lonely walk out to the end of “The Point”. I was alone, as usual. All my surf partners abandon me in November. Thoughts of the Patriots, a warm woodstove and an adult beverage take them away from a dark, cold, lonely beach. About half way to the end of the walk I again had that weird feeling of being watched. I dismissed the feeling and kept walking although a little more attentive of my surroundings. The sand was crunchy under my Korkers and there was no other sound except for the gentle lapping of the small surf. Napatree doesn’t get a big surf, for some reason, the way Watch Hill does. Suddenly up ahead of me to the right high on the beach I thought I saw a figure but it disappeared almost immediately. I kept walking but I was very uneasy. I was ½ a mile from any civilization, this was before cell phones and if someone wanted to attack me, it was going to be a battle. I checked my hand gaff and knife on my belt. “Ok, sucker! You want a fight; I’ll give you one.”
I now was scanning the dunes and the beach ahead as I walked toward the point. For some strange reason, I felt if I got to the point and out on the rocks I liked to fish, I’d be safe. I was almost there, and I see something that, to this day, I have no explanation for. There was that figure again. I was near the old fort on the end of the point and the figure was standing on one of the cement bunkers. Except now he was encased in a glowing blue aura. I stopped dead in my tracks and just stared at it. I think I blinked or turned away for a second and when I refocused “IT” was gone.
I am aware that the mind can play tricks on you when your senses are heightened, and you are looking for something to happen but this was different. I had been wandering the “rim” for 30+ years at the time, usually in the middle of the night and never seen anything like this. Another visitor from the past whose soul still seeks peace.
The Block in November
The late and great Tim Coleman once wrote, and I paraphrase, the only place darker and lonelier than the backside of the Block in November is staring into North Vietnam in a frontline outpost at night. It is well known that there are spirits afoot on the Block. Some are due to the numerous shipwrecks. Others due to murders, suicides and mayhem that took place long ago. This story is from the area between the Snake Hole and Black Rock.
The year was November 1992, the week before Thanksgiving and we are almost on the New Moon. I always like to fish the last sliver of the moon as Mac Swienton at the Twin Maples Tackle Shop once told me, that is when the last of the “big girls” come by.
I got in the water at about 1:00 AM. It was warm for that time of year, probably mid-50s.
I climbed down the path at the Snake Hole, which can be a challenge in the daylight and a real pain in the dark. Hit the rubble rock on the beach and started casting my Block Island green needlefish plug.
I worked my way down the beach past some of the greatest structure that exists in the Striper world. I hooked up after about 15 minutes and had a nice fish about 25#. I landed her, resuscitated the fish and let her go. Kept working my way West past several points. Now, there is a spot on that side of the island where there is a very old shipwreck washed up on the shore. I came up on the wreck and quickened my pace. I’m not sure why but I felt uneasy and just decided to not fish right there and more West to Block Rock.
I finally got to a point of land I wanted to fish and stopped to have a cup of coffee. Suddenly it isn’t warm any longer. In fact, I have a real chill swirling around me. I stood up and I swear to God there is a man standing up against the clay bank. I said, “Hey, what’s up? No answer and suddenly, HE’S NOT THERE ANYMORE.
I figured I’m seeing things but I’m not drunk, stoned or particularly tired so I packed up my coffee, plug bag and start heading West again. Now this stretch of Block Island has cliff that rise from the shoreline, 200 feet or more so I couldn’t get off the beach.
I kept walking but, to be honest I was freaked out, so I kept looking back along the cliff line. I kept fishing but my heart wasn’t in it anymore. About 10 or 15 minutes later I can see the outline of Black Rock. There is a trail down the cliff at the Rock and that’s where I will get off. I hook up with another decent fish and have a bit of trouble getting her in as she tangled in the bubble weed. Suddenly I hear this voice from “nowhere” that yells “let it go”. I look around and the guy is standing there again. This time I said “&^%^&& IT” and snap on my neck light. NOTHING!!!!
I horsed the fish in. Ripped the plug out of her and let her go almost in one motion. I swear I got up the trail to the top in about 2 minutes and it usually will take 10.
I know what I saw, and I have talked to other surf fishermen who have had similar experiences on The Block. Who know what tortured souls wander the surf line in the darkness? If you spend enough time, at night, on the beaches of the Northeast, you will encounter lost souls.
Magical Places and Visitors from the past.
All of us who wander the surf line in the 0’ dark 30 hours have, at one time or another, felt like they were being watch. It’s human nature to be fearful of the night when in the surf on a dark and stormy night. Places that are benevolent and peaceful in the daylight become havens for demons of our own minds in the middle of the night. These are stories from years in the surf on those kinds of nights when the ghost of fishermen from the past came to visit.
The Old Fisherman at Narrow River
Back in the late 80s and early 90s, Narrow River was my “go to” spot in Narragansett. I used to fish it morning and night from March until December in any kind of weather, wind and tide. Late one October I was fishing the bottom of the tide on what we called the “bump”. The “bump” is an anomaly at the River that actually causes the river to be higher than the surrounding water at the very bottom of the tide. The reason is quite simple. The volume of water rushing out of the river causes the river to “bump” up making it appear to be higher than the surrounding water.
It was a very rainy night with a NE wind just hollowing and the rain coming sideways. In the 17 and 18 hundreds there were many shipwrecks outside of the river on Cormorant Rock and the surrounding structure. It is always a bit spooky on the new moon with no ambient light source. I worked my way out to the edge of the sandbar that setups at the front of the river opposite River Rock. On the “bump” you can get way out so you end up opposite from River Rock. The current swings right so if you throw your lure at River Rock you will get a nice drift over the front of the river when the fish usually stage.
I made a dozen casts and was into a slow pick of teen size fish on a black Danny plug. As I released a fish, I felt like there was someone behind me. I turned and saw a figure dressed in a long raincoat, down below his knees and a Sou’wester floppy hat…..all black, no fishing gear. I thought it was strange for someone to be out in that kind of weather, at 2:00 AM with no fishing gear but I released the fish and went back to casting. Now I was a little uneasy but I was there to fish, it was nasty and I was going to keep fishing. I glanced back and the figure was gone. Ah, some guy out for a walk, probably couldn’t sleep because of the wind.
I fished for another ½ hour and the tide and the bite had died so I headed back in. As I walked back in from the bar I saw the figure again, this time up in the dunes, just watching me. Same outfit, not moving. Now I’m getting a little freaked out. I snap on my neck light and he’s gone….again. Now I’m thinking that I’m hallucinating. Dark, rainy, windy night, I’m dead tired and beat up from fishing since March.
I headed down the beach toward Narragansett and trudged alone. When you fish the surf, you are always looking at the water. Both for fish signs and to make sure a rogue wave doesn’t sneak up on you and smack you. I got half way down the beach and I looked out at the water and there is the figure again except this time he is standing ON THE WATER!! Holy crap, he’s waving at me! I stopped dead in my tracks and snapped on my neck light again and ….nothing.
There is no question in my mind that I saw what I saw. The only explanation is that it was some lost soul who had perished in a shipwreck long ago on a stormy October night.
Napatree Point
Napatree Point is a long spit of land that extends from Watch Hill almost to Fisher Island. From the beach club to the end of the point is a mile plus walk. Back in the 1930s the spit of land was covered with houses and the area was known at Fort Road. The 1938 hurricane wiped out the 40 houses that were on Fort Road and took many, many lives. It is not surprising that there would be spirits in this desolate area. It is also interesting to note that the area is also known for the number of suicides that have subsequently taken place there.
Early November and the Naps, as we affectionately call the area, is a great stop to find the last of the big Stripers as they work their way South. Little Narragansett Bay, which is on the mainland side of Napatree Point, is a hot bed of bait and forage. On a dropping tide all of this “food” gets flushed by the end of Napatree Point.
It was long, cold, lonely walk out to the end of “The Point”. I was alone, as usual. All my surf partners abandon me in November. Thoughts of the Patriots, a warm woodstove and an adult beverage take them away from a dark, cold, lonely beach. About half way to the end of the walk I again had that weird feeling of being watched. I dismissed the feeling and kept walking although a little more attentive of my surroundings. The sand was crunchy under my Korkers and there was no other sound except for the gentle lapping of the small surf. Napatree doesn’t get a big surf, for some reason, the way Watch Hill does. Suddenly up ahead of me to the right high on the beach I thought I saw a figure but it disappeared almost immediately. I kept walking but I was very uneasy. I was ½ a mile from any civilization, this was before cell phones and if someone wanted to attack me, it was going to be a battle. I checked my hand gaff and knife on my belt. “Ok, sucker! You want a fight; I’ll give you one.”
I now was scanning the dunes and the beach ahead as I walked toward the point. For some strange reason, I felt if I got to the point and out on the rocks I liked to fish, I’d be safe. I was almost there, and I see something that, to this day, I have no explanation for. There was that figure again. I was near the old fort on the end of the point and the figure was standing on one of the cement bunkers. Except now he was encased in a glowing blue aura. I stopped dead in my tracks and just stared at it. I think I blinked or turned away for a second and when I refocused “IT” was gone.
I am aware that the mind can play tricks on you when your senses are heightened, and you are looking for something to happen but this was different. I had been wandering the “rim” for 30+ years at the time, usually in the middle of the night and never seen anything like this. Another visitor from the past whose soul still seeks peace.
The Block in November
The late and great Tim Coleman once wrote, and I paraphrase, the only place darker and lonelier than the backside of the Block in November is staring into North Vietnam in a frontline outpost at night. It is well known that there are spirits afoot on the Block. Some are due to the numerous shipwrecks. Others due to murders, suicides and mayhem that took place long ago. This story is from the area between the Snake Hole and Black Rock.
The year was November 1992, the week before Thanksgiving and we are almost on the New Moon. I always like to fish the last sliver of the moon as Mac Swienton at the Twin Maples Tackle Shop once told me, that is when the last of the “big girls” come by.
I got in the water at about 1:00 AM. It was warm for that time of year, probably mid-50s.
I climbed down the path at the Snake Hole, which can be a challenge in the daylight and a real pain in the dark. Hit the rubble rock on the beach and started casting my Block Island green needlefish plug.
I worked my way down the beach past some of the greatest structure that exists in the Striper world. I hooked up after about 15 minutes and had a nice fish about 25#. I landed her, resuscitated the fish and let her go. Kept working my way West past several points. Now, there is a spot on that side of the island where there is a very old shipwreck washed up on the shore. I came up on the wreck and quickened my pace. I’m not sure why but I felt uneasy and just decided to not fish right there and more West to Block Rock.
I finally got to a point of land I wanted to fish and stopped to have a cup of coffee. Suddenly it isn’t warm any longer. In fact, I have a real chill swirling around me. I stood up and I swear to God there is a man standing up against the clay bank. I said, “Hey, what’s up? No answer and suddenly, HE’S NOT THERE ANYMORE.
I figured I’m seeing things but I’m not drunk, stoned or particularly tired so I packed up my coffee, plug bag and start heading West again. Now this stretch of Block Island has cliff that rise from the shoreline, 200 feet or more so I couldn’t get off the beach.
I kept walking but, to be honest I was freaked out, so I kept looking back along the cliff line. I kept fishing but my heart wasn’t in it anymore. About 10 or 15 minutes later I can see the outline of Black Rock. There is a trail down the cliff at the Rock and that’s where I will get off. I hook up with another decent fish and have a bit of trouble getting her in as she tangled in the bubble weed. Suddenly I hear this voice from “nowhere” that yells “let it go”. I look around and the guy is standing there again. This time I said “&^%^&& IT” and snap on my neck light. NOTHING!!!!
I horsed the fish in. Ripped the plug out of her and let her go almost in one motion. I swear I got up the trail to the top in about 2 minutes and it usually will take 10.
I know what I saw, and I have talked to other surf fishermen who have had similar experiences on The Block. Who know what tortured souls wander the surf line in the darkness? If you spend enough time, at night, on the beaches of the Northeast, you will encounter lost souls.