Needlefish Shrine

[DZ]

The Needlefish Shrine

The painted image of a needlefish plug first appeared on “Painted Rock” during a November black as coal mid-watch. Speculation on the pork chop centered on whoever was currently on the island but one thing was evident, the artist was knowledgeable enough to have used the right color.

It was 3 AM and I was in transit to the islands west side when I first noticed it. Fishing had been a slow pick up until then, very few fish for the effort expended. As I stood next to painted rock I decided to sacrifice one of my needlefish plugs to the striper gods by leaving it on the rock. I’m a very superstitious surf-caster and always looking for any advantage I can get in my pursuit of Roccus. I figured a donation of a needlefish plug was a small sacrifice for a chance to improve my odds.
I fished the west side till dawn with little to show for it. My drive back to the cottage took me by “painted rock” once again. I glanced at it as I drove by and could see my plug still atop the rock.
It was now Monday evening and there were a few new buggies on the island as the weekend “turnover” of surfcasters was complete. Each weekend a new batch of hungry casters arrives and replaces those whose stay on the island has ended. The new gang all hopeful they picked the right week. Before I began another night of casting I drove by “painted rock” and noticed another needlefish plug placed next to mine. Someone else had made a sacrifice. Around midnight I found myself all alone casting a rocky bar with only my thoughts to keep me company. A short while later a lone shadow worked his way onto the bar – I heard a voice ask “Is that you Denny Needlefish?” I recognized the voice immediately – it was “Silent” Steve. “Yes” I replied. “How are you Steve?” I hadn’t seen Steve for a few seasons and we had a lot of catching up to do. There was a time when we both met on the island every November, those years were very special to us – the highlight of our surfcasting lives. As we cast we reminisced about old times, special fish, and the old guard who prowled the island. Not once in our conversation were we interrupted by the bass. Steve asked me about “painted rock” – I told him I placed a needlefish on it for luck. Steve smiled as he told me the other plug was his. Nothing eventful happened on the bar for the next hour. “See you next tide”, I said as we waded off the bar. We then went our separate ways.

It was now Tuesday afternoon, “Darter” Al and “Red Fin” Zeke arrived on the next boat to keep me company for the remainder of the week. We took a ride around the island to scout for bird activity. I took them by “painted rock” where I convinced them to sacrifice a needlefish. There were now a total of 7 needlefish on the rock – I could account for 4 of them – but who had left the other three? I snapped a quick photo of the “Needlefish Shrine” and we continued on our way.
We arrived at the bar Tuesday evening just as the sun was setting over the horizon. A light southeasterly rippled the nearly calm water. As I waded onto the bar I peered over my shoulder and saw Silent Steve’s buggy arrive and park on the bluff. A short while later another camper top appeared on the bluff and two anglers scurried out to gear up. Neither of us had any action as Steve and the other two anglers made their way onto the bar. At that point the unidentified anglers, both donning wetsuits, came toward me. I immediately recognized them as my good friends Ritchie “Bucktail” and his partner, “Frogman” Joe. After we shook hands they both fanned out to open spots on the bar. All 6 of us cast until full dark without a touch. I waded in to take a break and sat on one of the washed up tree trunks of the “lumber yard.” It wasn’t long before everyone was sitting next to me. We talked for hours about how poor the fishing had been on the island the past few Novembers. We recalled times in the past when we were on this bar catching bass on almost every cast. I then mentioned that, according to my logbook, we had a blitz of nice fish on this bar in 1985 - twenty years ago to the day. Steve confirmed that fact based on his meticulous record keeping. We continued to chat for another 30 minutes until Al looked at his watch and announced it was 10 PM. “Time to stop gabbing and start catching” he joked. The tide was now dead low leaving much of the bar dry as we waded our way to the tip. Steve, Al and I fished the bar’s south side, while Zeke, Joe and Rich fished the bowl facing northwest. Twenty minutes of casting produced nothing. I began to wonder whether we were in for another slow night. At that point I saw Steve tighten up to a bass and begin to slide to his left as a good fish used the current to tow him in that direction. Al also hooked-up just moments after Steve. I was next in the picket line and waited for the strike. I then felt a delicate take on my black needle - the result was anything but subtle as I set on a cow not 20 feet from where I was standing. My hook-up immediately made a bee-line to the left corner of the bar where Steve and Al were fighting their fish. I peered to my right and could see Zeke, Ritchie, and Joe all fast to fish, their rods doubled over heading in the same direction. Steve and Al were reviving their fish for release, both bass in the 40s, as I slid mine into the cobble. “Just like old times!” I yelled. Zeke, Joe and Rich landed their hook-ups within 20 feet of each other, every fish appearing to have come from the same mold. We all hurried back out on the bar expecting some more but they were gone. We continued to cast for another hour, all the while discussing what had just transpired. All of us had hooked-up within a minute’s time, and then never had another hit, very strange indeed.
As we left the bar I mentioned the needlefish sacrifice to Joe and Rich, both of whom said they had also placed a needlefish on the rock earlier that day after Steve had told them about it. Now I could account for 6 of the 7 needlefish left on the rock, but who had left the seventh?

Later the next morning just after dawn we all met at “painted rock.” The plugs were now gone as was the painted image of the needlefish. In there place was painted the following words:

Cherish the Moment: November 10, 2005, 10:25 PM
and
Thank you for the Needlefish

We fished the island hard for the remainder of the week; hitting the bar at least twice a night, but never duplicated any action like our magic moment. We never even saw another caster. Whoever left that seventh needlefish has become just another mystery on an island filled with mysteries. We did all agree on one thing, that donating a plug for good luck was well worth the sacrifice.

Tight Lines

“Denny Needlefish”