I was supposed to fishing offshore yesterday on the Special Kate with the Southalls. Friday, while Charles and I chummed for “massive” cobia during a NE blow, we checked the forecast for Monday. It passed the “it probably won’t kill us” test. It failed the “will it be fun?” test. I’m not sure where that second test came from…wiser?…just older? Anyway, Charles cancelled Monday’s trip.
I figured to be just fishing from our dock the rest of the weekend. That is what I was doing Sunday night. Throwing the net, catching shrimp, putting shrimp on a hook, catching baby speckled trout one after another. There was not a breath of wind. I went up to the house and told Tricia that I’m not going tomorrow but that if she wakes up and the boat is gone, I went anyway. I went.
The bay was not bad. It did get sporty in the ocean. It did not kill me and it was fun…back is a bit stiff today. Trolling the oceanfront, I caught false albacore, Spanish mackerel, ribbonfish, and cobia. Pretty sunset and the bay glowed blue after nightfall. Every whitecap was glowing and my wake was on blue fire.
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