Fishing tall tales..who's got some?

[Saltheart]

When I was younger and stronger I could really cast a long way. That lure would go clean out of sight and sometimes even past the horizon.

One time I built a fancy new rod with all the gimmicks. I got a special reel from Australia and replaced the stock bearings with Abec 7 ceramic bearings. I also bought some of that rocket fuel and lubed the reel with thinnest and fastest of them all. I went to Race Point and spent about 20 minutes warming up and tsretching to get ready for some real distance casting. Then I tied on a big 4 OZ hopkins lure and was ready to start casting.

As often happens I was pushing so hard for distance I was getting some overruns and wasted a lot of time taking out birdsnests. Then finally I took a few deep breaths , reached way back and put everything into a cast that sailed away perfectly. That thing went so far I lost sight of it over the horizon but even then it kept takling line for what seemed like forever. Finally with just a few turns left on the reel , the lure must have landed because the line stopped peeling off.

I fugured it must be in deep water so I waited a minute or two before retrieving hoping to get down deep for a big fish.

Suddenly i felt a couple of tugs on the line and immediately started reeling it in. I reeled for over an hour until finally I could see where my line was. There was defintely something on the end of my line. Of course I hoped it was a big bass and proceeded to land my catch.

low and behold the Hopkins was no longer on the end of my line. Instead there was a bottle of wine with a note. I read the note with great anticipation. The note said

" Thank you for this beautiful american Fishing lure. They are hard to find in my country. In return for taking your lure I have tied on this bottle of wine which is abundant in my land. I hope you like Port wines. here in Portugal we make the best wines and these Port varieties are our best."

I took the wine home and drank it while eating some Keebler crackers very sharp cheddar. It was a great tasting wine.

Now I swear this is an absolutely true story. I swear it!!

[BigFish]

I think you drank the wine BEFORE you went fishing!!

[piemma]

I am writing a book about my fishing exploits over the years. here's one of them.

I left the house at 11:00 PM after about 3 hours of fitful tossing and turning. The wind was humping NW at about 20 to 25 and I know the fish would be stacked tight on the dropping tide.
We were headed for “The Back” that legendary stretch of beach on Cape Cod that has given up more than its share of trophy Stripers. A gentle rain fell, occasionally swept sideways by the wind. I knew PJ would be on time at the supermarket, where we met, so I hurried my pace as I hated to keep anyone waiting. It promised to be an epic night and that inner sense of excitement started in my gut. Oh man, maybe we get into some real big fish tonight.

As the truck splashed through the parking lot puddles I could see PJ standing at the back of his SUV getting his gear assembled.
Hey PJ, what’s up?

Not much, you?

Nothing. Looks good tonight.

Yeah, NW over our shoulders and a dropping tide at 2:00 AM.

Come on. Get your stuff together and let’s go. We got a good 2 1/2 hours of driving and it’s starting to come down good.

So off the two Amigos went. PJ was a good %$%$%$%$. A little self-centered but a good surfisherman and he’d watch your back. We had been in a lot of dicey situations over the last 8 or 9 years and always stuck together.

We made it over the Bourne Bridge and were on the Cape. Its funny how 2 grown men can get excited night after night driving to fish. This was a bitch of a drive and we were doing it twice a weekend for about 6 weeks. 600 miles by the time Sunday came around.

Where do you want to go first?

I think we will hit the Second Rip and then move West with the Tide.

You need gas?

Yeah, there’s the Mobil station in Eastham that’s open all night.

OK.

The rain had let up a little but the wind was still blowing, maybe even a little harder.

I think there’s a front moving.

Oh baby, the big girls will be puttin’ on the feedbag. Lanny always says, Bass feed on the front.
Screw Lenny. What the hell does he know??

Come on!! Lennys’ the best.

I know. I’m just bustin’.

He’s caught a lot of big fish and you know he wins the points total every year.

Yeah, but that’s because he’s fishing commercial. We can’t take 800 pounds a night. He can.

Good point my man!!

I pulled into the Mobil station and started to pump gas. PJ ran in to get something to drink as he had forgotten his thermos. So here I am 1:15 AM, pumping gas at a lonely gas station on Cape Cod and a car pulls in on the other side of the pumps. Hmmm, 2 girls.

Now we fished 9 or 10 foot, one piece, custom made surf rods which were all on the roof of the truck in rod racks.

Girl: Hi
Paulie: How ya doin’?
Girl: Good
Girl: Nice rods!!
Paulie: Thanks
Girl: We’d really like to handle your rods.
Paulie (to myself): Oh, oh, here we go.

Just then PJ comes back from the convenience store.

Paulie: Hey PJ, these girls want to handle our rods.
PJ: Hahahahahahahah

Paulie: Not tonight ladies. We have a date with some big, fat girls that are swimming on The Back as we speak.

Paulie: See ya.

The 2 girls just stood there with their mouth open as we headed out of the parking lot.

PJ: Do you believe that??
Paulie; Well, we could have gotten lucky but I’d rather fish.
PJ: Something is wrong with you, man.
The rest of the ride was uneventful. We pulled into the air-down lot at Race Point and deflated our tires, racked the rods in the front rod holders and hit the beach.

PJ: “Where to first?”

Paulie: “Let’s go to the Second Rip. The tides just starting to pull West and the “ladies” should be lining up if there is any bait.”

The rain had stopped and the NW wind would be our shoulders.

We headed down the beach through the RV parking area, past the Plover restricted area, made a slight turn staying on the track and got to the place we call the Second Rip. There a small sand bar that juts out for about a 100 yards and then joins another bar further out. After that the bottom drops off into 100+ feet of water. Perfect bass territory. Current, structure, depth and BAIT!!

As we stopped the truck and got out, PJ let out a yell. No one else on the beach and there is a row a foot thick of sand eels that “something” has pushed up on shore.
We grabbed our rods and hooked live eels on as we ran to the shoreline. PJ cast first immediately followed by my snake hitting the water. One turn of the Van Staal and “I’m On!!! My old Lamiglass 10 foot rod is bent almost in a perfect C and the VS 250 is protesting loudly as the bass peels line off. Two more half hearted runs and I slid a nice 25lb Striper up on the shore.

PJ: “Oh crap, here comes another truck. I’m on and I don’t want him to see me.”

Paulie: “Drop the tip of the rod. If you loose the fish there’s plenty more out there.”

I dragged the still flopping bass up to the truck and threw her in the cooler on the front of the truck. The truck went by and PJ landed his bass. Almost an exact twin to mine. We caught bass for about another hour, all 20 pounders and up. After that, the action slowly started to die as the school moved with the tide.

PJ: “Where to?”

Paulie: “They are movin’ west. We need to get to The Back. I think they will setup at the Mission Bell.

So we racked the rods and off we went. Off the Front, through the air-down lot and up over the big dune onto The Back. A hard right at the bottom of the dune and onto the track heading west.

The Mission Bell is a legendary spot on the Back. It once was a Coast Guard Station. The Bell is still hangs there in a structure that stands about 30 feet high. It’s at the top of a sand dune so it is silhouetted against the sky. You can’t miss it. There is usually a sand bar almost in front of the Bell. It changes from year to year but it’s usually within 50 feet, either side of the Bell.

No sand eels on the shore. “Oh hell, they didn’t move this far down yet.”
PJ: “Where screwed.”

Paulie: “Na, they’ll be here. They are moving west with the tide. I’m tellin’ ya. They will be here!”

I put on a fresh eel and slowly walked down the shoreline trying to make out any swirls, movement or structure. I couldn’t pick up the bar as there was no moon and the Back can be “dark as a pocket” as there are no ambient light sources.

I made a half dozen casts and worked the eels as slow as possible. Nothing. Nada, Zilch!
PJ had decided to work the other direction toward the way we came down the beach. A couple of buggies went by us and, seeing nothing going on, kept moving toward 2 Tenths Hole, Laura’s and Peaked Hill. If they didn’t find fish at Peaked Hill they would be back as this was during the period when the beach was closed from Peaked Hill Bar to High Head.

Wait!! PJs neck light just flashed twice. He’s on! I reeled in and headed toward him. I could just make out his rod bent over. By the time I got there he was in the water grabbing a nice fish by the gill cover.

PJ: “How big?”

Paulie: “Over 30. Maybe 35”

I started casting and had to calm myself down as I was working the eel too quick.

PJ: “Paulie, 33 and change on my scale.”

Paulie: “Nice fish PJ”

Tap, tap, Tap. Yep. Drop the rod, count to 5 and SET!

The first run absolutely astounded Paulie. Biggest fish of the night. Peeled 50 yards of line. Now she was bulldozing against the side of the bar. I turned her head and gained some line. Nope. Still green. Another run but not as long. Back and forth the old girl and I went. Finally she was tired and I knew I had won. Slid her up on the sand and gently unhooked her.

“PJ, bring the scale. I’m gonna let her go.”

The scale pulled down and bounced between 42 and 43 pounds. She was 46”+. I waded in to the lite surf and slowly moved her back and forth. Her gills flared and pulsed as life slowly returned to her body and the lactic acid dissipated from her exhausted body.

PJ: “Damn! No camera.”

Paulie: “Come on girl. You can do it.”

All at once I felt her pull. A slap of her broom tail and she slowly swam away.

Paulie: “Wow! What a fish!”

PJ: “I would have kept her.”

Paulie: “Not this time. We already have over 100 pounds in the box. Let’s go home.”

PJ: “It’s only 3:30 AM! We got another 2 hours till daylight.”

Paulie: “PJ, I’m beat. We must have caught 20 fish over 25 pounds. Let’s leave some for tomorrow.”

PJ: “You’re driving. I’m OK with it.”

Paulie: “NO! You’re driving. I need an hour sleep. Let’s get off the beach, air-up and you drive until we get to the Bourne Bridge.”

We hit the road after air-up and I was asleep before we got to Route 6.
So another epic night on the Back went into the books. There were many nights like that and many night when we never did find the fish. You remember the great nights and try to forget the bad ones. More stories from The Back to follow.

[Brian L]

Originally Posted by piemma

I am writing a book about my fishing exploits over the years. here's one of them.

I left the house at 11:00 PM after about 3 hours of fitful tossing and turning. The wind was humping NW at about 20 to 25 and I know the fish would be stacked tight on the dropping tide.
We were headed for “The Back” that legendary stretch of beach on Cape Cod that has given up more than its share of trophy Stripers. A gentle rain fell, occasionally swept sideways by the wind. I knew PJ would be on time at the supermarket, where we met, so I hurried my pace as I hated to keep anyone waiting. It promised to be an epic night and that inner sense of excitement started in my gut. Oh man, maybe we get into some real big fish tonight.

As the truck splashed through the parking lot puddles I could see PJ standing at the back of his SUV getting his gear assembled.
Hey PJ, what’s up?

Not much, you?

Nothing. Looks good tonight.

Yeah, NW over our shoulders and a dropping tide at 2:00 AM.

Come on. Get your stuff together and let’s go. We got a good 2 1/2 hours of driving and it’s starting to come down good.

So off the two Amigos went. PJ was a good %$%$%$%$. A little self-centered but a good surfisherman and he’d watch your back. We had been in a lot of dicey situations over the last 8 or 9 years and always stuck together.

We made it over the Bourne Bridge and were on the Cape. Its funny how 2 grown men can get excited night after night driving to fish. This was a bitch of a drive and we were doing it twice a weekend for about 6 weeks. 600 miles by the time Sunday came around.

Where do you want to go first?

I think we will hit the Second Rip and then move West with the Tide.

You need gas?

Yeah, there’s the Mobil station in Eastham that’s open all night.

OK.

The rain had let up a little but the wind was still blowing, maybe even a little harder.

I think there’s a front moving.

Oh baby, the big girls will be puttin’ on the feedbag. Lanny always says, Bass feed on the front.
Screw Lenny. What the hell does he know??

Come on!! Lennys’ the best.

I know. I’m just bustin’.

He’s caught a lot of big fish and you know he wins the points total every year.

Yeah, but that’s because he’s fishing commercial. We can’t take 800 pounds a night. He can.

Good point my man!!

I pulled into the Mobil station and started to pump gas. PJ ran in to get something to drink as he had forgotten his thermos. So here I am 1:15 AM, pumping gas at a lonely gas station on Cape Cod and a car pulls in on the other side of the pumps. Hmmm, 2 girls.

Now we fished 9 or 10 foot, one piece, custom made surf rods which were all on the roof of the truck in rod racks.

Girl: Hi
Paulie: How ya doin’?
Girl: Good
Girl: Nice rods!!
Paulie: Thanks
Girl: We’d really like to handle your rods.
Paulie (to myself): Oh, oh, here we go.

Just then PJ comes back from the convenience store.

Paulie: Hey PJ, these girls want to handle our rods.
PJ: Hahahahahahahah

Paulie: Not tonight ladies. We have a date with some big, fat girls that are swimming on The Back as we speak.

Paulie: See ya.

The 2 girls just stood there with their mouth open as we headed out of the parking lot.

PJ: Do you believe that??
Paulie; Well, we could have gotten lucky but I’d rather fish.
PJ: Something is wrong with you, man.
The rest of the ride was uneventful. We pulled into the air-down lot at Race Point and deflated our tires, racked the rods in the front rod holders and hit the beach.

PJ: “Where to first?”

Paulie: “Let’s go to the Second Rip. The tides just starting to pull West and the “ladies” should be lining up if there is any bait.”

The rain had stopped and the NW wind would be our shoulders.

We headed down the beach through the RV parking area, past the Plover restricted area, made a slight turn staying on the track and got to the place we call the Second Rip. There a small sand bar that juts out for about a 100 yards and then joins another bar further out. After that the bottom drops off into 100+ feet of water. Perfect bass territory. Current, structure, depth and BAIT!!

As we stopped the truck and got out, PJ let out a yell. No one else on the beach and there is a row a foot thick of sand eels that “something” has pushed up on shore.
We grabbed our rods and hooked live eels on as we ran to the shoreline. PJ cast first immediately followed by my snake hitting the water. One turn of the Van Staal and “I’m On!!! My old Lamiglass 10 foot rod is bent almost in a perfect C and the VS 250 is protesting loudly as the bass peels line off. Two more half hearted runs and I slid a nice 25lb Striper up on the shore.

PJ: “Oh crap, here comes another truck. I’m on and I don’t want him to see me.”

Paulie: “Drop the tip of the rod. If you loose the fish there’s plenty more out there.”

I dragged the still flopping bass up to the truck and threw her in the cooler on the front of the truck. The truck went by and PJ landed his bass. Almost an exact twin to mine. We caught bass for about another hour, all 20 pounders and up. After that, the action slowly started to die as the school moved with the tide.

PJ: “Where to?”

Paulie: “They are movin’ west. We need to get to The Back. I think they will setup at the Mission Bell.

So we racked the rods and off we went. Off the Front, through the air-down lot and up over the big dune onto The Back. A hard right at the bottom of the dune and onto the track heading west.

The Mission Bell is a legendary spot on the Back. It once was a Coast Guard Station. The Bell is still hangs there in a structure that stands about 30 feet high. It’s at the top of a sand dune so it is silhouetted against the sky. You can’t miss it. There is usually a sand bar almost in front of the Bell. It changes from year to year but it’s usually within 50 feet, either side of the Bell.

No sand eels on the shore. “Oh hell, they didn’t move this far down yet.”
PJ: “Where screwed.”

Paulie: “Na, they’ll be here. They are moving west with the tide. I’m tellin’ ya. They will be here!”

I put on a fresh eel and slowly walked down the shoreline trying to make out any swirls, movement or structure. I couldn’t pick up the bar as there was no moon and the Back can be “dark as a pocket” as there are no ambient light sources.

I made a half dozen casts and worked the eels as slow as possible. Nothing. Nada, Zilch!
PJ had decided to work the other direction toward the way we came down the beach. A couple of buggies went by us and, seeing nothing going on, kept moving toward 2 Tenths Hole, Laura’s and Peaked Hill. If they didn’t find fish at Peaked Hill they would be back as this was during the period when the beach was closed from Peaked Hill Bar to High Head.

Wait!! PJs neck light just flashed twice. He’s on! I reeled in and headed toward him. I could just make out his rod bent over. By the time I got there he was in the water grabbing a nice fish by the gill cover.

PJ: “How big?”

Paulie: “Over 30. Maybe 35”

I started casting and had to calm myself down as I was working the eel too quick.

PJ: “Paulie, 33 and change on my scale.”

Paulie: “Nice fish PJ”

Tap, tap, Tap. Yep. Drop the rod, count to 5 and SET!

The first run absolutely astounded Paulie. Biggest fish of the night. Peeled 50 yards of line. Now she was bulldozing against the side of the bar. I turned her head and gained some line. Nope. Still green. Another run but not as long. Back and forth the old girl and I went. Finally she was tired and I knew I had won. Slid her up on the sand and gently unhooked her.

“PJ, bring the scale. I’m gonna let her go.”

The scale pulled down and bounced between 42 and 43 pounds. She was 46”+. I waded in to the lite surf and slowly moved her back and forth. Her gills flared and pulsed as life slowly returned to her body and the lactic acid dissipated from her exhausted body.

PJ: “Damn! No camera.”

Paulie: “Come on girl. You can do it.”

All at once I felt her pull. A slap of her broom tail and she slowly swam away.

Paulie: “Wow! What a fish!”

PJ: “I would have kept her.”

Paulie: “Not this time. We already have over 100 pounds in the box. Let’s go home.”

PJ: “It’s only 3:30 AM! We got another 2 hours till daylight.”

Paulie: “PJ, I’m beat. We must have caught 20 fish over 25 pounds. Let’s leave some for tomorrow.”

PJ: “You’re driving. I’m OK with it.”

Paulie: “NO! You’re driving. I need an hour sleep. Let’s get off the beach, air-up and you drive until we get to the Bourne Bridge.”

We hit the road after air-up and I was asleep before we got to Route 6.
So another epic night on the Back went into the books. There were many nights like that and many night when we never did find the fish. You remember the great nights and try to forget the bad ones. More stories from The Back to follow.

Am I the only one who read on, thinking that the two frisky ladies were going to show up at the end of the night, and then get exactly what they were looking for? Now, that would have reeallly been a story

Thanks for sharing, Paul

[piemma]

That's another chapter. They were 2 lesbians at Peaked Hill bar.

You will have to buy the book when it comes out.

[numbskull]

Sex and fishing don't mix. My wife told me so!

[MAKAI]

Waiter.
I'll have some of what Saltheart is having.

[BigFish]

I have a "Tall Tale"! I go fishing at a spot I frequent from time to time this fall. Its a spot that I see Flaptail at on occasion. So I show up one night, and there are a few folks there I see in the shadows.......and I can of course make out Flaptails shape in the dark.....he is about the only guy I see out there thats much bigger than I am! Anyway.....I kind of slide into the water about 25 feet from Flaptail....and he doesn't know its me (yet).....so I fish for a bit, watching him and just making sure its him....and it is! So after about 15 minutes I say, loud enough for him to hear, "Boy......I didn't know they piled it that high?" Steve takes a second or two.....and I can see him slowly turn towards me......and he says, in a threatening tone....."Excuse Me?!!!" I bust out laughing and I say "Hi Steve....its me BigFish"....and we both had a good chuckle over it.....it was funny!

[tynan19]

Great stories guys, thanks for sharing.