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This is a good way to mentally get away from winter...
Late September, just before first light, backside of Fishers Island. Warmer than usual for this time of year. It's a Wednesday, which I was fortunate enough to be able to take off from work. So as I look to my left, no boats in sight...I look to my right, no boats in sight. We have the water to ourselves.
I motor up to my favorite rockpile. Boy, I think to myself, the engine is running smooth and quiet today. In fact, as I look around the boat, everything looks great - the hull is clean, the upholstery is shiny, the electronics are working, all screws are in tight, all is well. We have a few beers in the cooler, plus my friend Woody was able to stop at that Italian deli in Waterbury, so the sandwiches will be AWESOME today.
Woody is up in the bow. The wind is blowing lightly out of the west, setting up a perfect eastward drfit. We each put a lively, wriggly eel on our hooks. I pull up to within casting distance of the rocks, position the boat to drift parallel with the island, and cut the engine. The drift is perfect, the wind is light, the only sound I hear is the water washing lightly up against the rocks.
Woody lets his eel fly. I scan the rocky shoreline, and find a spot where the rushing water is creating just a little bit of foamy suds against my favorite lucky boulder. My eel is wriggling nicely, but not knotting up. I make a cast, and see the eel splash the surface exactly where I was aiming. Woody yells that he just missed a strike.
I turn the handle of my spinning reel a couple of times, just to take in the slack. Now I can feel the weight of the eel. With the braided line, I can really feel that eel wriggling. My senses are incredibly acute, my arms tingling with anticipation of the strike sure to come...
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