Short Morning Session (with video)

I woke up juggling the calendar, with a foot in my face and an elbow in my crotch.  The Jake and the Neverland Pirates' theme song was still stuck in my head next to potential client email drafts, needy little what's for breakfast and can we have sprinkles.  My mind was crowded with unfinished powerwashing chores, MIA little pink stuffed elephant drama, overdue oil changes, super-evil-mega-corps silently upping my bill, wall doodles, and the infinite stream of laundry.  I Hattori Hanzo'd my way out, making sure not to wake the lil' ninja who snuck into bed upside down.  Then, sans coffee, I silently slid into the river in the cover of darkness.

As light slowly crept through the haze, the curtains were pulled back on the soul invigorating glow of the water.  Long exhales shrank my worries and I felt my head declutter.  With every paddle stroke, I reminded myself of all I had to be thankful for.  A short ways later, I caught a good rhythm on the 6wt flyrod and found a few little bronzbacks to go with my smile.

Back in time to rock breakfast duty and watch Saturday morning couch jumping in pajamas, Jake's theme song wasn't so annoying after my short morning session.

Tardy to the Drum Party

I was actually caught off guard.  After finding the right time to ask the boss lady if I could go for big reds this weekend, she looked at me with a sharp glare... "It's not that I don't want you to go.  I'm just so tired of you coming home and whining like a baby about getting skunked again and again."  Cringing from the salt that just got dumped on my festering wound I thought "so that's a yes?" 

This would be my 7th trip in a month.  Many Eastern Shore regulars as well as several first timers watched me strike out over and over as their reports of successful trips, I admit, drove me wild with jealousy.  The ill-fated timing... that one bad knot... the enslaving wind forecasts... and all the tiny on-the-water decisions that cut me with every could-have-been replayed themselves as my frustration got worse and worse.

But with so many friends cheering me on, I finally made it to the big drum party.

Photo courtesy of Joe Underwood ©2013

An entourage showed up at the Wise Point boat ramp on Memorial Day morning and we scouted the area thoroughly.  In the mix was mister YakAttack himself, Luther Cifers, and his son Tyler who had just graduated two days before.  Luther was on a mission to get his soon-to-be Virginia Tech Hokie on a big red. 

One of the stars of this spring's drum run, Joe Underwood, hooked up first on the troll.  I immediately turned around and paddled toward the school.  After spooking two reds right in front of me, I tossed my swimbait passed the area they were going and hooked up with the quickness.  It shot straight at me as I furiously reeled in the slack line.  I saw the giant go under the kayak and rush off in the opposite direction I was headed.  While spinning the kayak, I thumbed the spool a little too hard and *pop*.  Expletives exploded out of my mouth as I slammed the rod tip into the water.  Immediately, I grabbed the trolling rod and start casting, but no dice.  After things settled, Joe landed a nice 47"er and I started feeling a little déjà vu from a few weeks ago where I busted off a big red while others landed theirs. 

But the day was young and the search resumed.  Joe was flanked by Luther on one side and me on the other when he made visual contact.  Since he already landed one, he let his true character shine by backing off and letting Luther, me, and a few others take our shots.  I couldn't see the fish from my angle, but I noticed a difference in the surface ripples and put my swimbait out in front of it.  I hooked up again.  And broke off again, even with looser drag.  I didn't have time to lament at that moment since I knew the fish were there.  An almost panicky feeling came over me as I grabbed my other rod.  I fan casted the area and paddled in the direction the school was going, but again, we lost them.  After lingering in the area, a little while later William Ragulsky picked up a nice one on the troll and much to Luther's delight, Tyler got a 42" while casting.  

CONGRATS, TYLER!
Photo courtesy of Luther Cifers ©2013

I decided to put away the rod and reel that broke off twice.  After putting a lot of pressure on that 30# braid over the last two years (e.g. big reds and sharks at Sandbridge) I should have changed it out earlier.  My 50# spinning set up became the go-to and when I hooked up while blind casting, it held up to the test.  It was one of those hook ups where I hadn't even started cranking yet.  Just as I was closing the bail, the line came tight and the acappella from my drag grabbed everyone's attention.  Part of me wanted to tighten it up, but after the last two hook ups, to say that I was nervous would be an understatement.  When I finally had it in my lap and stretched it to the end of my 4ft ruler, a sigh of relief came over not only me, but everyone else there who knew about the overweight monkey on my back.  

Photos courtesy of Joe Underwood ©2013

As the day progressed, the wind's crescendo put a sour note on our search for more big reds.  Alex Britland and I met the notorious Wicked Pissah himself, Joe Maccini, in the back of a creek slinging little puppy drum with his spinnerbait on every cast.  

We crashed his party of one and proceeded to hootin' and hollerin' with him about how fun the little reds were on light tackle.  The action was literally non-stop.  Had I not forgotten the tagging kit, I would have ran out of tags fairly quickly.  I even pulled out the big 10wt, which was intended for the big girls, but was still fun with little reds up to 19".  

Loading up at the end of the day and not cursing the parking tag hanging from the rear view mirror was much needed.  When I pulled up at home, I was half way tempted to pretend like I didn't catch anything just to see how my wife would react, but my big goofy grin gave it away.  I know we're in it together when her sigh of relief from checking one off the list is as satisfying as my own.

Too bad there's no rest for the weary as I'll be after number 4 soon.

Slingin' Bugs After Work

Have I mentioned lately how awesome my wife is? Yeah well, she is.  I pick up the kids on my way home... she calls. 

"Weather's so nice... you should go fishing."

Smile starts to curl.  Wheels start to turn. 

Awesome, right?  I freakin' love that woman.

So I get home and transfer the kids over to that awesome woman, then quickly venture down to the Choi-cave.  Still somewhat torn about where to go and what to target, I rummaged through the haystack of rods hoping one would jump out... begging to be used.  Under all my CBBT stuff, my TFO 6wt peeked through with a popper still on it from last time.  The hook was getting rusty and the white rubber legs were starting to change colors.  Bingo.  

Deep breathes... letting the soul soak up the goods.

I grabbed one more popper, stuck it in my pfd and rushed off to the James.  

It was a perfect evening.

Without changing the fly once, I had plenty of action for 2 hours.  

8"-10" smallies kept me on my toes and chuckling.  

Just as it was getting dark, I had one around 15"...

... but it got off on the first jump.

Oh well.  

Still an amazing evening not to be taken for granted.