The Hunt, by Alexi

Mon Nov 17th.

     Our boats splash the backwaters of IBSP around 1 A.M.  It's overcast, foggy, and there's no moon.  (Maybe a sliver but the clouds are hiding it)  We have eels.   Steve heads across the flat invisibly pulled by an unknown force to the spot he caught his fish at last week.  I am not subject to the same invisible attraction, and so I take the path of least resistance to Snake Ditch.  Every corner, each turn, each hole I am full of anticipation.  I give Snake ditch a thorough run, and then decide to head out to Oyster creek Channel and try to meet up with Steve.  Still knowing, still feeling, still wanting, that at any second there will be a fish attacking my eel.  I cut through Horsefoot and get out to OCC.  It's still close enough to slack tide that I feel like I'm effectively fishing.  Like I'm presenting my bait in an enticing manner.  If there were fish.
    I can barely see the lighthouse.   I have my gps on and I can look down and see a map (bear in mind that the maps of the sedges are always off)  and I can see where I am on the map.  I drift along to what I think is seal island.  (I'm actually completely disoriented)  It's probably around 4 A.M.  Then I see a space ship cruising across the flat.  From where I thought I was (which was wrong) it was a very large vessel with lights all around it.  I radioed to Steve "Yo Perchman, Do you see that thing?  How is it on the flat?"

Steve: "It's a tugboat, it's in the inlet."

Me: "Where are you?  I'm at Seal Island"

Steve: "I'm at Seal Island"

first light

Visibility is about two feet.  I was lucky that I wasn't where I thought I was.  As it passed Steve and it's wake approached him, he had no way of knowing when it would reach him or how big it would be.  One second you feel yourself rise into the air.  And then you wonder, will there be another?  How many?  How big?  What angle?

I figured out I was back in Horsefoot.  Perchman turned on some lights and I paddled over to meet him.   We had a break on seal Island and talked plan.  The decision was to drift over to the Sedge House.

Desperate A.M. eel casting

 The tide in front of the Sedge House was slow moving, and I usually have better luck there when there is a bit of current.  Day began to happen.  This signaled the end of the trip. We were reluctant to succumb.  We went back to snake ditch, back to weakfish point all to no avail.  Now there was no longer a reality.  It all turned into the world of dreams.  The separation between awake and asleep blurred.  Dreams of being in an IHOP.  Dreams of pancakes and syrup.  Dreams of a highway.

P.S.

Nov. 19  Steve froze trying again, solo trip to the Sedges.

Nov. 23  I went to Nummy (N. Wildwood) and drifted eels for 6 hours along the sod banks.  Chris wasn't at the store.  At least I got a nice waterproof hat and some more eels.

Hereford Inlet

My favorite collapsing house