Post by cnot on Apr 9, 2007 22:59:26 GMT -5
Another story from my "glory days" in Cape May Point.
My folks rented rooms and apartments out of our summer place to supplement the cost of living in a vacation area. One day, somewhere around early August of '77 (give or take a year), one of our tenants saw me washing down my "Black fishing Poles". These were cane poles, originally the poles my grandmother grew her pole beans on, about 11 feet long with 80 pound mono tied to the end that was about half again as long as the pole. To the mono was attached an old spark plug and a hook (slightly rusty to hold a Calico Crab all the better). I used them to catch Tautog around the jetties. The heavy line was because of the barnacles and mussels that grew on the rocks and the abuse that came from them The spark plug was a cheap sinker, again because of the rocks and because they just didn't seem to hang up as much as any weight that cost money. The hook, as I said, just seemed to hold a crab better if it was slightly rusted. The whole effect of the outfit was, shall we say, not the most professional looking. The thing about cane poles, at least as I found, was that once in a while you had to soak them down and hang them vertically with weight to straiten them out. Murphy's Oil Soap seemed to keep them strong. That's what I was doing when this wise guy saw me.
"What are those things for?" He asked me.
"fishin'"
"Yeah, right, you can't catch nothin' on somethin' like that." He says.
"Wanna Bet?" I said, doing some quick calculations in my head. "You check out on Saturday morning, I'll go to the beach with one of these while you pack the car and be back with a good fish on the hook by the time you leave, All it will cost you is a sawbuck.... Price of your lunch and tolls on the ride home... Or you can go home to Philly thinkin' you took me."
He took the bet, and I thought I was in trouble that Saturday morning. The tides were a little higher because of the full moon, and our jetties got covered on a normal full tide. The Calico Crabs were slow to climb into my traps, and the Sand Flea Crabs seemed to have taken off for parts unknown. But, I finally made bait, and then had tow wait for the water to leave the rocks clear enough to wander out on them.
Once out on the jetty, I tied each of the "holes" I knew. The Black fish seemed to have favorite areas to feed in, at least the bigger ones, and I had said "a good fish". I knew that could mean how the bet came out.
I never wore a watch while fishing in those days. Lived by the moment, felt time by the tide, sun, and other natural surroundings. But that day I had one on. The clown said he was leaving at 9 and I left the house at 7:30, things were getting tight. Smaller fish were taking bait, big fish weren't hungry. Ten bucks in those days would buy you and a date into the movies, some popcorn, and if you were lucky, a ticket to the submarine races.
With 10 minutes left to the dead line, the bite came. I didn't use finesse. I hauled the puppy up, a 4 pounder easy, and headed for home.
As I was crossing the dunes at the Lehigh Avenue entrance, I came across a couple of guys, about my age or maybe a little younger.
"Hay! How'd you catch that fish??" One of them asked.
"Come back in 15 minutes and I'll show you, I can't stop now!" I said as I kept going....
Yes, I made it back to win the bet in time. I collected my money, and went back to the beach because I remembered the guys on the way. I didn't really think they would show up. But, I wanted to be a man of my words.
When I returned to the jetty, there were two guys standing there with gear in hand. Problem was that the gear was in the 10 to 12 pound class.
"Shoobies" I said as we walked out on to the jetty. (This is a term we used for tourists that didn't know the area. An insult if you had a clue.)
"Hey, I own." One of the pair replied. (The ONLY comeback at the time that one could make which proved you did have a clue to the area. It meant you owned property and didn't rent.)
I taught them to Black fish. The fellow that stood up to my little insult has become one of my best friends. I fish with him every possible chance I get to this day. Brazin' was able to fish with my friend Smack...
If winning a bet with a cane pole outfit like that, and meeting a friend for life isn't worth it all....
"
My folks rented rooms and apartments out of our summer place to supplement the cost of living in a vacation area. One day, somewhere around early August of '77 (give or take a year), one of our tenants saw me washing down my "Black fishing Poles". These were cane poles, originally the poles my grandmother grew her pole beans on, about 11 feet long with 80 pound mono tied to the end that was about half again as long as the pole. To the mono was attached an old spark plug and a hook (slightly rusty to hold a Calico Crab all the better). I used them to catch Tautog around the jetties. The heavy line was because of the barnacles and mussels that grew on the rocks and the abuse that came from them The spark plug was a cheap sinker, again because of the rocks and because they just didn't seem to hang up as much as any weight that cost money. The hook, as I said, just seemed to hold a crab better if it was slightly rusted. The whole effect of the outfit was, shall we say, not the most professional looking. The thing about cane poles, at least as I found, was that once in a while you had to soak them down and hang them vertically with weight to straiten them out. Murphy's Oil Soap seemed to keep them strong. That's what I was doing when this wise guy saw me.
"What are those things for?" He asked me.
"fishin'"
"Yeah, right, you can't catch nothin' on somethin' like that." He says.
"Wanna Bet?" I said, doing some quick calculations in my head. "You check out on Saturday morning, I'll go to the beach with one of these while you pack the car and be back with a good fish on the hook by the time you leave, All it will cost you is a sawbuck.... Price of your lunch and tolls on the ride home... Or you can go home to Philly thinkin' you took me."
He took the bet, and I thought I was in trouble that Saturday morning. The tides were a little higher because of the full moon, and our jetties got covered on a normal full tide. The Calico Crabs were slow to climb into my traps, and the Sand Flea Crabs seemed to have taken off for parts unknown. But, I finally made bait, and then had tow wait for the water to leave the rocks clear enough to wander out on them.
Once out on the jetty, I tied each of the "holes" I knew. The Black fish seemed to have favorite areas to feed in, at least the bigger ones, and I had said "a good fish". I knew that could mean how the bet came out.
I never wore a watch while fishing in those days. Lived by the moment, felt time by the tide, sun, and other natural surroundings. But that day I had one on. The clown said he was leaving at 9 and I left the house at 7:30, things were getting tight. Smaller fish were taking bait, big fish weren't hungry. Ten bucks in those days would buy you and a date into the movies, some popcorn, and if you were lucky, a ticket to the submarine races.
With 10 minutes left to the dead line, the bite came. I didn't use finesse. I hauled the puppy up, a 4 pounder easy, and headed for home.
As I was crossing the dunes at the Lehigh Avenue entrance, I came across a couple of guys, about my age or maybe a little younger.
"Hay! How'd you catch that fish??" One of them asked.
"Come back in 15 minutes and I'll show you, I can't stop now!" I said as I kept going....
Yes, I made it back to win the bet in time. I collected my money, and went back to the beach because I remembered the guys on the way. I didn't really think they would show up. But, I wanted to be a man of my words.
When I returned to the jetty, there were two guys standing there with gear in hand. Problem was that the gear was in the 10 to 12 pound class.
"Shoobies" I said as we walked out on to the jetty. (This is a term we used for tourists that didn't know the area. An insult if you had a clue.)
"Hey, I own." One of the pair replied. (The ONLY comeback at the time that one could make which proved you did have a clue to the area. It meant you owned property and didn't rent.)
I taught them to Black fish. The fellow that stood up to my little insult has become one of my best friends. I fish with him every possible chance I get to this day. Brazin' was able to fish with my friend Smack...
If winning a bet with a cane pole outfit like that, and meeting a friend for life isn't worth it all....
"