Convergence '19: Drenched and Happy

It never really stopped raining in April, and barely slowed in May. But conditions lined up just well enough that on May 5th, one of my favored spots was finally fishable. But it was going to be a very, very, very wet night. From about 2 hours into the outing until I got home it never stopped raining and it was cold. But the herring were there and the stripers were there, so I was sticking it out.

I knew some fish would likely slide up into a specific run right after sunset, and sure enough they did, but I blue my chances in there. I wasn't yet in striper mode. I hadn't caught even one holdover striper yet this year. Repeated hard hooksets weren't needed for anything I had done since early January, so I did dumb things instead and missed and lost fish because of it. When I finally pulled my head out of my ass and did what I was supposed to the fish had moved on. So so did I. And I found them.
A solid grab.
A few strong punchy hooksets.
A quick battle.
And there she was, my first bass of the year. My first bass of the year has never been a fish over 30 inches before. I was pretty chuffed with that.



I gave her a kiss, told her how grateful I was to have crossed paths with her, and spit out some muddy water and laughed laughed when she made me even more wet that I already was on her way out.

The next fish, just a few casts later, was about the same size. I didn't really move more than a few steps for the next four hours. I made the same cast over and over, the same slow retrieve, listening to spring peepers singing and watching herring dart around in the reflection of a streetlight, and I caught striped bass whenever they came around. Some were 20-24 inches, but most were over 26. All were fat and happy. And so was I. Not fat, but very, very happy. Drenched and happy. 

A pattern I have grown not simply to l;ove, but to need. 

In one night, my herring run season had gone from the worst ever to pretty exceptional. I had stopped regretting my choice to quit targeting holdover bass this winter. I was satisfied. Now all I needed to do was fish hard for a few weeks and maybe I'd catch the big striped bass I'd been after since the start. I was confident that I would, but had stopped believing I was owed it. Rarely if ever does a person who constantly believes and acts as though they are owed something actually get that thing. When a fisherman accepts that what they deem to be enough time and effort towards one fish is only their perception and not a hard truth, they accept that it will come when it is meant to and are more likely to be relaxed and ready when it finally does present itself. Barely 24 hours after I got home that night, this reality would manifest itself. 

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