The Washing Machine, by Alexi

     Steve had a party.  That's the thing most people do on memorial day weekend.  Stay away from the shore.  That's what we do most weekends, and especially on holidays.  Our mutual friend Ross was at the party and he took little convincing to join us for our next surf launch.  Magic Seaweed said the waves were going to be 1 ft, there was no lightning in the forecast, and the bunker were still around.   We were planning to be in the ocean around sunrise, but this time of year first light is really early, like 5:30 A.M.   We were about an hour and a half late.  We would have had to have been passed out on the beach the night before to get there at first light.

no matter how calm it looks, it's good to count sets of waves

 PART ONE: Too Much Bunker

     We were high.  We were high off of Steve's success from the previous week.  We were ready for some even bigger fish.  30lbs is now small, we need a 40lber.   We will do whatever it takes.  We will launch into the ocean right where Humpback whales are breaching.  We will get little to no sleep.  We will float around the ocean with snagged bunker for 6 hours straight with not a single run-off.  And I will eat shit in the surf when I return to the beach.  And I will do it all again as soon as possible.
   
     After six hours of floating in the ocean among seas of bunker I started packing away all of my gear.  I scoot back and forth to the front of my kayak putting one thing inside, then another.  The moment of admitting defeat.   I  put everything inside of my kayak except for the crate itself and my cheapo kayak light which was stuck in my crate.   I help Ross prepare his kayak for landing in the surf, put his rod in his hatch, and I paddle over to what looks like a good place to land.  So far this year I've had no problems surf launch/ landing, and I was confident this would be no different.  I counted two big waves, and started my decent.  Before I had time to do anything about it, a third wave was cresting onto the nose of my kayak.  I had time to make two strong paddles, then I was underwater.  I was in the washing machine.  Wave/ undertow/ wave/ undertow....I was separated from my kayak.  I noticed quickly that we were moving at the same speed in the same direction.   I also noticed that it was still upside down.  Steve was pretty much right next to me, attempting to get my crate which had become detached.  As he got closer all I saw was a wave behind him and his boat on a trajectory for me, so I shouted something like " SAVE YOURSELF! GET OUT OF HERE!"  Right where I happened to be was a shoal, and the waves were breaking high and fast over it.  After a couple of minutes I was able to catch up to my boat and turn it right side up.   I half walked, half floated it back to the beach, and watched my crate float away.  Steve attempted to retrieve it, but with surf-fisherman's lines in the way, and a ever increasing surf, it was lost.
   
     We decided it was picnic time.  I was physically exhausted from the washing machine.    We went to the winter anchorage at IBSP, ate a snack, and stared into the wind at the bay.  The wind picked up while we stood there, and we decided to call it a day.   (I learned later that that evening two kayakers were blown out to sea by a 40mph gust, and had to be rescued.)

     I felt like I was well prepared for flipping in the surf, but there's always one more thing to put away, whether it's as simple as a hat, or sunglasses, or underwear.  I lost my crate and light.  I needed a new one.  When we need kayak fishing stuff we go to the Kayak Fishing Store in North Wildwood.

PART 2:  Too Much Water

     Despite a really good plan to drift eels in Oyster Creek Channel and throw poppers on the flats at night behind IBSP, the need for "stuff" steered us towards North Wildwood.  We arrived at low tide.  Stopped by Chris' store.  Bought some rod holders and a light for my new crate, and headed out onto the water.  
     I was drawn towards the inlet with the hopes of getting into some bigger fish riding the beginning of the incoming tide.  It wasn't so. I rode with the tide to try for some fluke between the bridges.  I think the drift was too fast, the wind and current were going the same direction, and my bucktail, though heavy, still wasn't staying in the strike zone.  I gave fluking about an hour, then did what was succcessful the week before: trolled with the current along the sod banks with tube-n-worm.  I had a 24" fish on in a familiar spot pretty quick.

trolling tube-n-worm along the sod banks

     I wanted to keep going forward instead of going back up-current to go over the same ground, so I kept moving.  I had another fish that came unbuttoned soon after that.  Then nothing for a while.  I met Steve out on the flats, and the sun was setting.  I pulled a short bass from a hole on a pink Fin-S with 1/2 ounce bullet head.
     As the sun set I prepared a rod for eeling.  The plan was to eel with the current back to the truck.  Unfortunately, the only action I had was bluefish eating my eel.  Steve had a strong run-off that didn't come to fruition.  With the new moon, and the strong wind from the East there was a ton of water in Grassy sound.  Theories abound, but as for the slow action that night, I think that the bass were way up in the grass taking advantage of the extra-high water, eating small crabs.

     As summer approaches my chances of catching a bass bigger than 28" dwindles.  I wonder if I've been doing something wrong?, but in the end I can't help but think that with all of our exploring and experimenting and the extra long cold spring....  I might have missed my chance.  There's definitely still bass migrating, and big ones too.  And tons of bunker out front.  So I'm not saying it's over, that would be ridiculous.  In fact it may just be beginning....