Sometimes wading at night can get just a little spooky.
Some years ago a friend of mine and myself were trying to figure out where to fish during the summer doldrums after getting skunked night after night at our regular spots. It was getting to be pretty frustrating, everywhere on the island was totally dead. Then we heard that some fish had turned up in Potters Cove and that was all we needed to hear.
Fog had begun to roll in that night as we crossed the Newport Bridge and headed for Jamestown. We were looking forward to anything at the end of a line - schoolies, blues, we didn't care - to break the curse and pull out of the slump.
As soon as we waded out into the cove we could hear an occasional splash in the far distance through the thickening fog.
"Didja hear that?" Paul said. "Maybe it's bass!"
"Yeah, I dunno - could be bluefish, too, who knows. Hey, some fish is better than no fish!"
We waded out waist deep across the soft mud. The tide was outgoing and we both started plugging toward the sounds in the fog.
We kept on for a half an hour with no hits, changing plugs and retrieves, trying everything we had with us. We could still hear the sounds of the occasional break but now with foghorns as a backdrop as it turned to pea-soup. The bridge disappeared in the mist.
"Any hits yet?"
"Nope - nothin'. I don't know, something's out there, though. I can still hear 'em."
I wasn't going to give up - it was always a contest anyway to see who would have the first fish for bragging rights, regardless of what it was. I looked over to my left in Paul's direction, he was less than 50 feet away, barely outlined in the haze. Now the only sound we heard was the plugs hitting the water. It had gotten eerily quiet.
All of a sudden, without warning, I heard him yell.
"ARRGGGHHHHHHHHHHH! GEEEEZUZZZZ!"
It scared the hell out of me in the silence and I could hear him thrashing around in the water.
"PAUL! WHAT'S THE MATTER? YOU OKAY?"
"GODDAMMIT!!!"
I turned on my necklight, rushed over to where he was and saw him trying to regain his balance. " Hey, what's wrong?"
"A coodeeesh! Goddam horseshoe crabs!"
As I looked down into the water when I got up next to him, there was a horseshoe crab trying to hop onto the boot of his waders as he backpeddled, no doubt mistaking the boot for...well, a lady horseshoe crab, I guess. Having the amorous crab grab his boot in the foggy darkness must have startled the hell out of him.
When I realized what had happened, I started to laughed so hard I literally couldn't stand up in the water. I finally had to stagger back into shore, laughing all the way and sit on the rocks until I stopped cracking up.
When he came out of the water I said "Hey, man, horseshoe crabs don't count."
