SURFRATS.COM ARTICLE SECTION

The Montauk Sea Turkey
By: Paul Melnyk
Surfrats.com Weekly Editorial #7
Nov 20th, 2007

I have always had good luck during the Thanksgiving Holiday. It is just a thing for me. I have even won the locals Tourney [OK.. second place..] on Thanksgiving Weekend. Billy Addeo caught two fifties one turkey day. There is no doubt about it, the kickoff to the holiday season is a winner.

There is one particular Thanksgiving that I will never forget though…

I arrived at the Point in the dark, with a perfect dropping tide. Maybe it was five a.m.? This was my day to win the Local’s Tournament and I was psyched. The lead fish was a puny thirty six pounder. Not a real contender in this contest of sharpies…

I was dressed in my waders and Dricore top when I jumped down to the five flat rocks at the water line. My favorite perch. There was whitewater all over the place with a Nor’east wind at 15-20. Conditions- perfect! Best of all… I was absolutely alone… I put on a darter and immediately caught a rat. The waves were hitting me pretty hard but I didn’t care… Every cast brought another bass! They were there…

As I was reeling in a teen fish, I looked up to see a guy strolling along the jetty. I swear to God, the fellow was dressed in yellow foul weather gear, with white boots. He was also carrying a cute little tackle box… No Korkers… He stopped right above me and began to cast.

“Wow, you are catchin’ fish! What you usin’?” He had something crazy at the end of his line. It had a propeller on the front…

“Hey fella, yah think you could move over a bit, You’re castin’ right over my head…”

“Oh… Sorry…” He moved.

Three more casts gave me three more fish. They were getting bigger too. My new Pal was fishless and getting frantic.

“I just can’t seem to catch nothin’… What am I doin’ wrong?”

“Try usin’ another plug… That one is for Pike. No muskellunge in Montauk…” I’m a wise ass…

He opened his pretty little tackle box and took out another freshwater plug. It flew about ten feet into the wind and got lost it in the rocks.

“Darnit!”

“Look, the sun is commin’ up… It’s time for a bucktail..” Says I, not wanting to wear his next hook and giving him a little lecture, super sharpie that I am…

”Bucktail? What’sa bucktail?”

You’ve gotta be kidding… I held up a 3 ounce Jetty-Caster and showed it to the dude.

“Oh boy… I don’t have one of those… You think I can use something else?”

“You could, but you would tangle us all up. When someone under the Light is usin’ bucks, every body has to throw them, or it will be a mess…” My mood was starting to get sullen, I was not in the mood to give free fishing lessons…

“Aw hell… I came out all the way from Brooklyn to fish, This sucks…”

Now this plaintiff whine touched my cold heart and I felt sorry for the goog. What could I do? I took the most beat up bucktail out of my bag and tossed it to my new friend. On the business end it had an old, dried up pork-rind cemented to the rusty hook.

“Here! Now cast it into the wash and do what I do!”

“You sure this is gonna work?”

Please…

In unison, I casted… He casted… Our bucktails landed in the wash no more than ten feet apart... I reeled in the slack and immediately tightened up on a nice fish! I must have hit it on the head!

“Hey! I got one!” I heard over my shoulder.

Sure enough, Mr. Brooklyn had a fish on too! His rod was bent in half and his drag was singing.

“You’ve got your drag too tight! Your gonna loose ‘um!”

“Whah?”

I scurried down the face of the jetty to land my fish, twenty yards from my perch. It was a low thirty… Not big enough… I tossed her back and scrambled back to my rock. My pal was still fighting his fish. He was trying to horse it in….

“Hey! Take it easy! You’ve got a nice fish!”

“Whah?”

Putting his back into the rod, I watched his face turn red from the strain. He dragged that fish straight into the wash and it disappeared between the rocks. Now he began pulling on it, trying to drag it out of the snag. I then saw the tail and my eyes bugged. OH…MY…GOD!

“Take it easy, will yah! Your gonna cut the line! Here, grab my rod and I’ll go down and get the fish before you bust it off. Just relax and ease up on your drag a bit.”

I jumped down to the water. The fish was now deep in a hole and I couldn’t see it. A wave broke over my head as I grabbed his line. Easy!... It was twenty pound test, with no leader… I reached into the whitewater and put my hand into a big hole. It is the fishey’s maw… It was as if I had put my hand into a stewpot! I grabbed her mouth and heaved, just as his line broke.

“Holy SHIT!!” It’s a slob!

As I dragged the fish to the top of the rocks, Dennis, one of my Tournament rivals, just happened to be walking up the Jetty. He saw the slammer in my arms. He bugged.

“Holy Shit… You got a winner, Melnyk!” Obviously, he thought I caught it!

We put the fish on my scale. Dennis was sweating as I weighed the cow. The fish was Forty eight pounds. He looked so dejected that I finally told him it wasn’t really my fish. He smiled. My goog friend was right there at my heels to take this striper outa my grasp. I was sure he thought I was gonna steal it! That old buck was still swinging from an inch long hole in the fishes face.

“Wow, you know my uncle told me to go fishing today! He gave me a blessing and said he would pray for me! He is the Bishop at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, yah know… Thanks a lot pal, thanks a lot!”

Then he ran off with my forty pound fish… I stood there, rubbing my hands and stared at the retreating visage with black Gollum eyes, (My prescious…. My prescious!!!) I did not get my forty pounder that morning. I did not win the tourney. All for the luck of ten stinkin’feet and a ratty bucktail! Hell, I didn’t even get that stinkin’ bucktail back!

The rocks were crowded by six thirty. Not another slob was caught that morning. Lots of twenties though… Another day, maybe tomorrow…

This story is a true one, as theatrical as it sounds. Just ask Dennis for confirmation. But wait, Bro! The yarn ain’t over yet…..

Sooo, Now it was tomorrow. Yes dear reader, the very next day. I got there early again. Would you believe it? My new best friend was there waiting for me!

“The sun is coming up! Time to use a bucktail!” he shouted down to me. He still wore “the yellow jammeys” and my piece-o’-shit buck was tied to his line. No leader.

We both casted at the same instant. Our lines crossed in the air. The two bucks landed twenty feet apart. I tighten up… on a fish. So did he. My fish was a high twenty. Once again, I had to go down to get his fish. We weighed it. It was thirty seven pounds…

“Wow! Another slammer!” [he was learning the vernacular.] “Damn, I owe you big-time buddy! What’s your address, I’m gonna send you a case of beer! What ja like?”

“Heineken…….”

…………

……

..

You know what? I’m still waiting for that case of beer………………………………..



(c)Paul Melnyk 2007, written exclusively for Surfrats.com

Back to Surfrats.com or Striper Message Forum