Counting stars

I had to go. The thought of last night’s missed run was haunting me, so around nine o’clock I left the house for my mark. Years ago, when my dad taught me the art of bass fishing, no one ever fished this spot, but times have changed. So when I turned into the small parking area, I was shocked, though not entirely surprised, to see five cars already parked up. Bugger.

I grabbed my gear from the car and made the short walk to the sea, fearing the worst. But as I turned the corner, I was surprised and delighted to see no one fishing along the entire stretch. I made my way to my mark, quickly set up, and soon a squid was sent out into the incoming tide, barely three feet from shore. 

I was still settling in when I felt a knock and a determined run and fish on. The fight was spirited but short, and I was eager to see the size when, in the gathering dark, I noticed a strap conger. Definitely not what I was after, but thankfully it was landed and unhooked easily. At around 2.5 to 3 pounds, it gave a great impression of a bass.

Second cast, and again another bite, one I’d swear was the same eel if I were a betting man. I reeled in to avoid another capture. Throughout the night, I had plenty of attention from eels, and one in particular felt huge, so I was glad I didn’t connect. Later, I hooked into a micro bass barely larger than the squid I was using, and that was it.

I stayed much longer than planned, hoping last night’s bass would return, but it never happened. Still, it was one of those memorable nights by the sea, just lying back in my chair, looking up at the stars and soaking in the atmosphere of a wonderful night.