Died and Gone to Heaven

Well, today was one of those fishing mornings that make every fruitless trip worth it. I woke up at an early time, had a great cup of coffee. The temperature was just right, and a nice breeze blew threw the windows and I made my way to my lake. I pulled in and met up with my cousin, who has been away for a year now. We got on the water with the intentions of just enjoying ourselves whether or not we were to catch any fish. However, as soon as we broke out into the main part of the lake, you could see fish breaking the waters surface in search of the morning bugs. No one can pin point the science behind it, but sometimes all the factors involved align just right and it seems as though the fish are feasting as if this meal would be there last. It seemed as nearly every fifth cast met with an eager fish. Sometimes it appeared as though more than one of them may have been stalking the bait and clashed as they lunged for it. Like merry men drunken with our passion, we laughed and cheered one another as we boated fish after fish onto our kayaks. With so many to choose from, we made an effort to be quite selective, only taking what we knew we will prepare for tonight's feast on the grill. I am been known to say I don't like those fairy tale cheesy endings to movies, but as we coasted back onto the lake shore, short of the theme music, I could have sworn we were living one of those endings this morning.

In late summer of 2006, I followed my orders to my next and final duty station at West Point, NY. During the three years there, I took great advantage of their endless lakes which offered wonderful fresh water fishing opportunities. Knowing that I would eventually be done with my service, and that I would return to NJ, I began to research the fish species that were popular in my home state. This is when I learned of the infamous striped bass. Now, many years away had distanced the bond that I shared with my cousin Joey, yet we came to found that we both ended up finding ourselves through fishing, and in sharing this great passion in life, we became closer than ever. While at West Point, I was able to save 60 days of vacation leave, and I took the whole sum at the end of my time there. This was something that I had planned for a long time, to have 60 days payed vacation during the fall migration of the mighty striped bass. My cousin and I were like children in a candy store running a muck for these two months, honing our skill in the surf, and testing our craft at every striped bass hot spot on the east coast. Although I greatly cherished the time in which we bonded, my favorite day of fishing was definitely the first time he couldn't make it down the shore for our daily hunt. He instead was on a terrible and expensive date with a very caddy girl. I basked in my glory while fishing off the Mantalokin Bridge a feeding frenzy, known as a blitz, erupted in the waters below. I placed a pile of pebbles in my pocket, and with each fish I caught, I moved a pebble to the empty pocket to keep count of my catch. Had it not been for the fact that I had to walk every fish down the bridge and jump over the side to the dock below just to pull them up, I think I would have easily caught 100 hundred of them. I did however, make out with 27 catches, and kept 2 of the larger ones. Being the good cousin I am, I was sure to snap picture of each catch before I threw it back, and send it to my cousin, in hopes that he would never choose a ho over his bro again during a fishing excursion. None the less, I sent those two months putting to use all the knowledge I had researched of these great fish. I've included some pictures below of the fruits of our hunt.