first burn like a sun.
they’re the opposite of short cuts.
i know that doesn’t make a lot of sense. going the longer way from point A to B isn’t cutting anything, this greatly increases travel expenses and the term doesn’t really exist anyhow but it somehow sounds appropriate.
i’ve always had this fantasy of pushing this long-cutting to the extreme by going all the way around the globe to reach point B.
i guess i’ll have to start saving up to get a decent camper vehicle and a lot of memory cards for the cameras. but then, if i do, i guess i won’t really be aiming to come back to point B…
i’d already been formally introduced to the Atlantic (European) sea bass’ close cousin, a 22 lb Rockfish, which is in turn a Chesapeake Bay variant of the Striped bass when i was about fourteen years old. that’s far from a record but that size fish, specially at that age i guess, always leaves a taste for more.
although nowhere near the size of their cousins on the North American side, in France we have two distinct sea bass varieties, one in the Atlantic ocean and another in the Mediterranean sea. this latter one goes by the name of ‘loup de mer’ or ‘sea wolf’, a name given by the Romans, maybe because they where too full of wine and bloated on their conquering mission and couldn’t tell the difference between a mammal and a fish or maybe because of the very agressive nature these fish take on when on a feeding frenzy. since its not too far from where i live i somewhat regularly go after the Mediterranean variety but this week i had to go do stuff on the Atlantic side and decided to leave the day before and see if i could get them to take interest in my flies.
here’s what Atlantic sea bass look like,
and here’s where they live.
rather a nice place and one i’d happily live if i was a fish. speaking of, be sure to keep the fish image up top in the back of your mind because you won’t see any more in this post.
after wading in gently close to the remains of a long-abandoned pier and about fifteen minutes, all of a sudden the water started boiling just twenty or so metres from where i stood in the direction of the sun here.
a hunt was on ! i quickly cast my baitfish imitation, started to do a two-handed rolley-pully retrieve and snagged a what i didn’t know at that time, baitfish. i had felt a little bump but no real pull so i decided at the time that it was a missed strike, albeit a strange one, and let the fly settle before starting the retrieve again. seconds after that came the real strike but it happened to my ‘bait’ and not my fly. “no biggie” me thinks, just pick up and cast back to the boil but that first back cast felt a little heavy because it had half a baitfish attached to the hook…
by the time i’d remove the poor beast and was ready to cast again the boil had disappeared. for good. for the rest of the evening. for ever or at least until the next time, and i most probably won’t be there.
i never saw one of these hunting fish but i like to believe they where sea bass.
on the way back to the car there where some nice drawings in the sand
and funny looking spermy things laying about on the beach.
when i got back there next morning some nitwit had pulled the plug to keep me from fishing,
but that’s ok, i got to fill my eyes with beauty.
as mentioned in the previous post, i’d give you more details on this very new ADELAM casting organization in Spain.
problem is, and after a five day trip where three of them where passed with a crew of approximately forty other ADELAMers i still don’t have a clue what it means.
even if i just became a member.
it probably has to do with how very little i understand spanish, or.
either way, i’ll find out soon because this is exciting stuff for the international fly casting community !
disgusting bird sex aside, living next to water is always pleasant though, the view forever dynamic.
lake Mälardalen, Sweden
i could hear them laughing at me…
and all the other elements.