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Just Follow the Instructions
Lou Stoia
It was Columbus Day weekend of 1977 and I had been looking
forward to three days of fishing with my partner, Stan Daggett.
I called Stan from my home in New Jersey to firm up the date.
Stan informed me that he would be unable to fish with me because
he had a family commitment in Maine. However, he said that
fishing had been great on the Outer Cape beaches, especially
Head of the Meadows in Truro. He told me to do the following:
"When you get to Head of the Meadows, drive to the parking lot
on the left. You will notice part of a ship wreck showing above
the water about 100 yards down the beach on your left. Walk down
the beach until you are down-beach of the wreck. Snap on the
biggest Hopkins lure you have and don't bother casting until you
see some surface action. The water's full of whiting and when
they show you will know the bass are under them."
My teaching schedule was such that I had no classes on Fridays
that semester, so I got an early start Friday and arrived at my
cottage in Brewster at noon. I had a quick lunch, loaded my
wagon with rods and tackle, and made it to Head of the Meadows
beach parking lot at about 2:00PM. I rigged up and as I walked
to the beach I looked left and just as Stan said, I saw the
superstructure of a boat wreck sticking out of the water. I
continued walking down the beach looking for any surface
disturbances.
Upon reaching the wreck I could see it was a pretty large boat
located about 50 yards from shore. I placed my rod in a spike
and waited for some surface action. The water looked so inviting
I wanted to start casting immediately but Stan had said " Don't
waste your time casting until you see the whiting come up." In
what seemed like a half hour but was probably no more than five
minutes I saw a couple of swirls then more until a great number
of whiting were jumping. It would be untrue to say I calmly
grabbed my rod and sauntered to the waters edge. I galloped to
the beach and waded in up to my waist, made a cast, three cranks
of the reel and I was fast on the G. Damn boat wreck, or so I
thought. I gave a few jerks with my rod hoping my lure would
come free. Instead, rather than come free it began to move to my
left and take line off my reel at a steady pace.
I finally realized that I was connected to something alive and a
lot more exciting than an old boat wreck. I thought to myself
"that's got to be a big bass!" and it surely was. That fish took
me down the beach for about a quarter mile before I finally
beached it. As I turned to drag my fish ashore I noticed that a
park ranger in his truck had been watching me land my fish. He
got out of his truck to get a better look at the fish and asked
me where my beach buggy was. I told him "I don't have a beach
buggy" He chuckled and said, "Put your fish and rod in back and
hop aboard." The kind ranger drove me back to the parking lot
and congratulated me on my catch.
The story is far from over. After stashing my fish in the back
of my wagon, I went back to the wreck and in three casts I was
on to another big fish which did not wander down the beach and I
was able to land it in about fifteen minutes. It was not as big
as my first fish but it was big. The tide had dropped
considerably and the surface action had stopped. I felt I had
met my quota for the day. I drove back to my friend Lee Coombs’
house in Dennis so I could weigh my catch on the big scales in
his garage. My first fish came in at 53 1/2 pounds. The smaller
fish was only 38 pounds. Lee was kind enough to let me use his
Polaroid. I took a picture of the big fish. I wrote the
following message on the back of the picture: "EAT YOUR HEART
OUT", then drove over to Stan's house and placed the picture in
his mail box. Since then Stan has made a vow never to leave the
Cape in September.
Moral of the story: If Stan gives instructions, follow them. An
interesting postscript to my story is: That big fish was the
last striper over 50 pounds that I ever caught from the surf.
Lou Stoia, April 2004, Backlash |
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