Consolation Prize

With t-shirt and shorts dripping with sea water, I stood in front of the sliding door with my back to the ocean at our beach home in Emerald Isle, NC where we have been for the last two weeks. I was still panting and thirsty to the point that I couldn’t even tell B my story of “the one that got away”.

An hour earlier I had replaced the lure in my fishing rod with one single silver spoon with a 3-prong hook hanging at the end. I walked to the beach as I had done everyday during the last two weeks. We still had a couple hours of sunlight and I was taking a break from all my home repair duties. It was another beautiful and peaceful day at the beach. The weather has been gorgeous since the cold front came last week and this was no day to pass on the opportunity to do a little fishing. I walked to the beach with fishing rod in hand but as usual with no expectations of catching anything. No bucket, no pliers, no rag and no extra bait or lures. During the day there had been quite a number of folks trying their luck fishing but thus far my hooks had not seen any action. It was going to be me and my rod against the ocean.

Once at the edge of the water, I started casting my line onto the surf. I had done this before. It was easy. Little work, but great expectations of enjoying the setting sun, the cool breeze and the peacefulness of this moment. Cast and reel, cast and reel. It was just relaxing. The sea birds were busy fishing but for me it was just cast and reel. Suddenly, something grabbed the other end of my line and I felt a rush of adrenaline down my spine. I jerked on the line to confirm that something was there. It was real. The line pulled strongly and moved with the current toward the West. I spun my reel as fast as I could at the same time that I followed the pull down the beach. I tried to change the angle of the line but couldn’t catch up with it. I continued reeling but whatever it was, kept pulling and swimming with my line. I started to get tired. I tried switching hands but it felt weird to have the rod upside down. I just kept reeling and walking behind my monster.

Fifteen minutes and 150 yards later I was finally perpendicular to the creature of the deep. I could now see the line going straight into the breaking surf and thought it was my chance to give it a strong pull. It wasn’t moving. The creature stopped swimming. Now, I thought, it was just a matter of puling it onto the beach without breaking the line. I walked into the water at the same time as I cranked on the spinner. It felt as if I was trying to move a refrigerator with a nylon string. Instead of a pull, my line simple tensed up to the point that I could send messages to the creature as if I was playing a one string guitar. I pulled on the line, but nothing moved. A few seconds later I felt movement again as if the creature was positioning itself for a battle.

Small finger mullets were jumping out of the water right where my line was going in from the surface. Sea birds tried to dive in to scoop some of the finger mullets but changed their minds at the last minute as if being scared of something just below the surface. I was already tired of holding my position but didn’t want to give up. There was no one else on the beach. I kept looking towards home but I hadn’t been gone long enough to be missed. What should I do? Whom could I ask? The pattern of me reeling and stretching my line followed a few seconds later by a couple of pulls from the creature below continued. I had no tools on me. Even if I wanted to break the line, I couldn’t figure out how. Should I let it take my rod? Would it swim away if I gave it some slack? All these questions and no one to ask for advice. Where was Mike when I needed him? It was hopeless. Maybe the creature would break the line with its teeth. Maybe it will get tired and let me bring it out.

Forty five minutes later, I was thirsty and tired. Nothing was happening. Who wanted it more? Who could wait the longest? I was prepared to bring it home. I could almost taste victory. I thought about how to pull it out. How I was going to handle it without a rag? How was I going to drag it home? No answers, just waiting. I resented the creature for not having shown itself to me. It was a blind battle. It was just me and the shadow. Both pulling on a nylon line, holding on for dear life.
Just as sudden as the whole thing started, my line went lifeless. What happened? It must have cut the line. I was relieved that it was finally over. But disappointed that I was going to walk home empty handed. I reeled in the line and was surprised to see the lure still intact. My line was all twisted but still in one piece. Did this even happen? Had this been a dream? Whatever it was, the creature turned out to be smarter than me. It was free and had been decent enough to return all my equipment.

I walked home, engulfed a snack and drank a gallon of water. After untangling my line, I headed to the beach again to salvage the last few minutes of sunlight. The sea was kind to me this time. Casting the same lure again, after a few tries I caught a 10 inch bluefish which made for a nice dinner that we shared as I told my story of the one that got away and the consolation prize that the sea was kind to give.