Striper Talk Striped Bass Fishing, Surfcasting, Boating - View Single Post

striprman · 05-20-2004, 07:38 PM

Where the sea meets the sand you will find him, rod in hand, searching, searching for his prey...the elusive striped bass. He can see the silver and black stripes in my minds eye, imagine the sound of the surf as it crashes the shoreline . His nostrels flair, detecting the slight smell of watermellon... they are here. He stride confidently to the waters edge with weapon in hand, casting with confidence, as he has thousands of times before.
The fish, sees movement, detects the presence of its quarry, always searching for it's next meal, hungry.
The fisherman casts again, this time a little harder, moving the presentation out just a little further...perfect.
The fish is aware, there is it's quarry. The broad tail slashes the water. A strike.
The fisherman, always ready feels the fish strike, his rod doubles over, the drag screams. This is no ordinary fish, this is what all fishermen pray for.
The fish makes a long run, takes 100 or more feet of line and then sits on the bottom. The fisherman is unable to move such a large fish, but keeps steady pressure on the rod. 10 minutes pass.
The fish slowly starts to move, but sensing the sting in its mouth knows something is wrong. Again, it swipes its tail, all fins fully erect, fighting, fighting with all its strength.
Another 50 feet of line have been removed from the fishermans reel. Only another 50 feet left on the reel. The fisherman keeps steady pressure on the fish, the line "sings" under the weight and movement. The fisheman can feel the rod throb as the fish shakes its huge head, but the fish is no longer taking line.
The fish is now tired. The thing in its mouth is slowly bringing it towards the shoreline. It now swims with the pressure it feels, the sting less painful.
The fisherman can feel the fish moving, he has regained the 50 feet from the second run. The fish has been on for 15 minutes.
Another run strips 20 feet of line, the fish realizes that it is fighting for its life, but the pain in its mouth is unrelenting and it again follows its source for relief.
The fisherman knows that this fish is like no other that he has ever hooked, a magnificent creature that the fisheman has outwitted, man against nature, millions of years of evolution come down to these minutes.
The fish is now very tired, it had encountered such a sensation three times before.... but there were rocks. this time the rocks could not be found, only sand and seaweed. The fish now just follows the strange sensation, pressure, and follows the sensation to the shorelone. What is this strange creature that lives in the air?
The fisherman, beads of sweat on his brow now has the fish at his feet. It is like nothing he has ever caught before, its huge white belly showing as the moon rises and Venus twinkles as the evening star. Life is good.

05-20-2004, 07:38 PM	#22
striprman Wishin' for fishin' iTrader: (0) Join Date: Sep 2003 Location: Brockton Posts: 1,651 Blog Entries: 1	Where the sea meets the sand you will find him, rod in hand, searching, searching for his prey...the elusive striped bass. He can see the silver and black stripes in my minds eye, imagine the sound of the surf as it crashes the shoreline . His nostrels flair, detecting the slight smell of watermellon... they are here. He stride confidently to the waters edge with weapon in hand, casting with confidence, as he has thousands of times before. The fish, sees movement, detects the presence of its quarry, always searching for it's next meal, hungry. The fisherman casts again, this time a little harder, moving the presentation out just a little further...perfect. The fish is aware, there is it's quarry. The broad tail slashes the water. A strike. The fisherman, always ready feels the fish strike, his rod doubles over, the drag screams. This is no ordinary fish, this is what all fishermen pray for. The fish makes a long run, takes 100 or more feet of line and then sits on the bottom. The fisherman is unable to move such a large fish, but keeps steady pressure on the rod. 10 minutes pass. The fish slowly starts to move, but sensing the sting in its mouth knows something is wrong. Again, it swipes its tail, all fins fully erect, fighting, fighting with all its strength. Another 50 feet of line have been removed from the fishermans reel. Only another 50 feet left on the reel. The fisherman keeps steady pressure on the fish, the line "sings" under the weight and movement. The fisheman can feel the rod throb as the fish shakes its huge head, but the fish is no longer taking line. The fish is now tired. The thing in its mouth is slowly bringing it towards the shoreline. It now swims with the pressure it feels, the sting less painful. The fisherman can feel the fish moving, he has regained the 50 feet from the second run. The fish has been on for 15 minutes. Another run strips 20 feet of line, the fish realizes that it is fighting for its life, but the pain in its mouth is unrelenting and it again follows its source for relief. The fisherman knows that this fish is like no other that he has ever hooked, a magnificent creature that the fisheman has outwitted, man against nature, millions of years of evolution come down to these minutes. The fish is now very tired, it had encountered such a sensation three times before.... but there were rocks. this time the rocks could not be found, only sand and seaweed. The fish now just follows the strange sensation, pressure, and follows the sensation to the shorelone. What is this strange creature that lives in the air? The fisherman, beads of sweat on his brow now has the fish at his feet. It is like nothing he has ever caught before, its huge white belly showing as the moon rises and Venus twinkles as the evening star. Life is good.