I recently finished a book entitled "The Moon Brought Up an Acre of Bass. It essentially speaks of a phenomenon where at the full moon and several days before, one can walk down to the vast gray ocean and see something amazing. You walk down, the wind picks up, the sea is calm. Very calm, and all of a sudden a 4000 square meter expanse starts to bubble as large schools of Stripers (stripped bass) chase up enormous schools of shiners reflecting off that huge nightlight in the sky.
Recently whilst fly fishing off a large Jetty near where I live. I saw a similar event. It was absolutely breath taking. I’ll take you there now.
The night was sultry, I knew the wind down by the ocean would be nice. So I got the dog, and my fly rod and rode down to a large jetty that jut’s out a quarter mile. No one really walks out to the end because the fishing is good well before you reach it. But that night I wanted to get away from the hot land as much as I could so Grissholm and I walked all the way to the end. Passing fisherman who were having no luck. The tide was coming in and the moon had just popped it’s orange head up above the horizon. I knew it would be a good 2 hours before I cast my first line. We had to wait till the moon was high enough and light enough to cast a nice glow on the dark sea. Reaching the end in about a half hour - we chatted with various fisherman along the route - the moon was getting brighter and the ocean was claming down.
Around 9 o’clock the moon was high the ocean was dead calm and the air was cooled to a nice 75 degrees, the wind had moved the haze away exposing a nice cool atmosphere and a view second to non. No one was on the beach this fair night because they were all tired from the long week. A couple Portuguese fisherman were wading out and starting to cast their lines. They looked like men sitting on gray ice with no legs, just a torsoe caught on top a living plane.
I cast my first line 30 feet from the jetty. The water was the deepest out here. 50 feet maybe from top of jetty to sea floor. Second cast 40 feet, third 65 and there it lay. I jiged it a couple times and brought it back.
Then it began to happen. I saw the ocean start to sparkle, like a million underwater disco balls the sparkles could be seen for seemingly ever. Then they began to pop all over the place, right in front of me, 200 yards out, 200 yards to the side all over, the ocean was bubbling. The the first Bass crested the oceanic world and hurled itself up and out o the water, a dozen 4 inch shiners in it’s gullet. I was awestruck! I wasn’t fishing I was watching a phenomenon only seen by a few. I could not move a muscle, my dog whined, and kept looking at me for some sign of what he should do…I just stared.
Then I received that first firing of a neuron. My stomach was producing mamoth size butterflies and I knew I started to realize I should be doing something. So I raised my pole - this sent the dog into a good bark, a “come catch a fish now, kind of bark” - and cast a large plug into the middle of the seeming frenzy.
Brought it back quick and plumped it down even further into the heart of this massive beast. Then Wham! I snagged a 30 pound rock! A rock that hit so hard I thought my wrist was pulled out socket, I thought my pole would escape my grasp. I whipped it up, it bent full on, pointing towards my quarry, and the hook was set. The FISH cranked back and forth, back and forth, jerking it’s head trying to get from my grasp!
I was waiting for it to jump, waiting for it to crest the water in a tired heave of animal against animal to break free from the eagle claw set perfectly in it’s left lip. Jerking hard I cranked and cranked and brought him within 30 feet when it happened. Whoosh! out of the water he came a veritable silver banded goliath of a fish, thrashing twice before the quick plunge back into the water. 10 miuntes went by like a fraction of a blink. Griss tail waged feverishly as we caught the first up close view of the monster fish inching towards us. He reared to the left and we saw the length and girth for a fraction of a second. A meter and a half at least with no less than 30 pounds on him. He was tethered to me by rod and reel and 8 pound test monofiliment line. The drag on my reel whined and chittered like a starter gone bad.
The fight was almost over. I was winning. He started to jerk less, to not fight as hard, he was tired and ready to give up. By the time I got him to the rocks, and bent over to grab him and heaft him up our of the water he had completely given up to me. A man only wanting to get a good look at this marvel of a fish. I grabbed him brought him up to my height and realized his tail was by my shins and mouth next to my head. 55+ inches on him I snagged the hook out of his cheek and placed him as gently as I could back in the water. I held his tail as re regained his strength and his pectoral fins started to wave more and more, his gills pumping, harder and harder I could almost feel his heart ready for another run at the sea of shiners. He had brought me through a brief journey that I will cherish for sure. I let go and he darted down, down, down back into the endless leagues from which he came. I grabbed my pole and noticed the two Portuguese fisherman again, silent, staring, holding their poles across their chest wondering I’m sure why I put him back. Yet not saying anything because for a moment I was the Fisherman on those rocks, and they were spectators, watching me. I walked back to society wondering when in my life I would be able to come down again, alone, and fish some more.