MY DAD'S SURF-FISHING ROD

. . . rescued from storage.

I love surf-fishing, especially on the North Carolina coast in the Fall when the blues are running.  They are relatively small fish — catching one over 5 pounds is rare, catching one over 10 pounds is extremely rare — but fight furiously when hooked, and taste wonderful when eaten right out of the sea, tending to get too oily and fishy if you try to keep them on ice for a day or two.

Some of my favorite times with my dad were spent surf-fishing, waking up before dawn to catch the right tide, with a Coleman lantern on the beach, baiting hooks with strips of Virginia mullet.



When the blues were running we would catch scores of them, as fast as we could cast our lines into the surf.  When they weren't running, we would just stand watching the waves, which has its own pleasures.

I haven't fished in the surf for ages, my dad won't ever do it again — but someday I'll cast a line out with his rod and think of him.  He'll be with me.