November 16 – Thursday – Northport
Dennis and I waited until the rain stopped and the sun came out, although by the time we were on the boat it went in again. We plan on just an hour or two since he fished the beach all day yesterday and got nothing. We are both thinking the fish have moved on.
We start at the yellow house and then go over to the east side of Duck Island. Another boat is working the point and the dock. I take out the fly rod and we cover the corner. Next is “the rocks” across the bay. The tide is still high enough that they are submerged.
When we get there the guy who was working the point is already on the rocks. We drop back to the cove by the beach and work it until our friend moves on. I set up on the first rock and the wind takes us over the second. Literally. I am on the bow looking down and see this monster rock about a foot below the surface. I run to the helm, lift the engine, and we slide over it without a scratch. Whew! Any way, no fish.
Over to Centerport; we cover the wall with poppers, tins and divers. Nada. The bay seems empty. We settle back and motor out to Target Rock at a leisurely speed, talking, enjoying the invigorating air and November on the water. We point the boat toward Greenwich and go a little farther. No sign of fish, birds or bait. I bring her around and we rock in the waves that are the beginning of a good blow we are in for tomorrow. Once adjusted I head for Valley Grove and there, about 200 yards off the bow, are birds!
Follow the birds!
Where did they come from? Just like the last time, we are surprised to suddenly see activity after scanning the water for several hours with nothing in sight. We set the boat and start casting. “Fish on” cries Dennis and I am close behind him. We work it for an hour or so boating one Blue and maybe 15 Stripers, all modest, but all beautiful.
Plump little guy
At the mooring I drop Dennis on the beach and go back out to do my winter prep work – get the rest of the gear off, winterize the fresh water system, take down the seagull chaser and the antennas, clean it up a bit. It is satisfying work. I check the gauges and see that the engine, which is new this season, has 99.2 hours on it. A good amount considering the boat didn’t go in until June and we drift a lot.
Saturday Son Tom will come over to help me get it to the marina where we will say good bye until next May when I hope to take full advantage of the start of the fluke season as well as those springtime stripers on a fly.
When I get home I put my phone in the pouch of my sweatshirt, take Otto for his walk and strip my stuff off for the wash. I jump in the shower and by the time I get out Sue has the washer going. That is when it hit me. My phone is in my hoodie.
The waterproof case is over 2 years old and well out of warranty (and apparently not effective in a wash cycle). It is dead. I take the SIM card out and want to run to the store. “It’s always something” as Rosanna Dana says.
Instead, I dig out my old iPhone 5, put the SIM card in, plug it into the charger and, with a little logging in and remembering of passwords, it works – but I lost the photos – or so I thought. This morning I go to photos on the phone and there they are – the video and the beautiful Blue above that I released before Dennis told me it was his dinner. (Look for the video on my YouTube channel)
I text Joe Odierna, who took Siri swimming in the Farmington a few years ago, that I am now also a member of the Siri Swim Club. It can be an expensive club to join.
Turns out I am liking the iPhone 5 better than the 6s so I am not trading up to an 8 (or, God forbid, an X) until I have to. I was going to get all crazy, run to the store, fight with the Lifeproof salesperson, and generally make a fool of myself.
Amazing what happens when I get out of the way.