Enter label: surfcasting (barely), and how you can too (lesson #1)

& 4 purchases for any beginner angler

Dear Companions,

I started my journey to surfcast. Some go in waders and wrestle with the waves. Some go wetsuiting at 2am off algae covered boulders in the midst of sharks (you can read about that crazy culture here). My goal is to simply catch a fish from the shore, then:

1. present it to family as indisputable evidence that I am, indeed, useful.

2. support my high-protein diet for long COVID recovery, while reducing my reliance on the food industry

3. build deeper connection with my hands, although not sure how I’ll feel when it comes down to slicing into a fish’s gills

4. inch closer to becoming a Jody Wogan

On the day we go out, the sun is a fuzzy yellow bulb in a sky of deep aqua blue—a shade L swears has no Pantone match. We argue about that. The birds are migrating, congregating, and doing figure 8’s. Later, I understand this indicates fish below. Every time I look up, it’s bird Coachella. In other words, lots of fish.

Montauk is called the Fishing Capital of the World, and October is a perfect month for it. It’s part of the fall migration season, when species like striped bass, bluefish, and albacore are abundant along the coast. Perhaps the secret angler in me is why I pushed all the medical stuff to November, when I’ll be back in the city, and what’s left, again, is the struggle.

Other things I like about October:

• it’s hot when you get into the car

• golden hour lights up hidden cobwebs

• schedule is ruled by serendipity rather than the rigid planning of summer

• a trek out from July and the conspicuous gaze of my Cancer sign

A friend of a friend, Jeff, offers to take us. We offer him money, but he declines, so we bring him a 6-pack of Pacifico instead. In his truck, he tells us he’s just returned from Colorado after a six-day solo hunting journey for elk (he didn’t catch any). He drove the 30 hours back the night before.

He’s got a t-shirt on, cargo shorts and flip-flops. I look down at my outfit. I realize it’s all wrong. I’ve got on hunter boots mid-calf, not high enough to go in the water, but heavy weights on land. Why are my outfits always so wrong when I start new things. Is this a first-generation thing? Is this a I lived in Tokyo when I was five thing? They remain wrong for a long time too. Tennis as a kid, in long t-shirts and leggings. Swim practice begging people for extra googles. Now these inescapably dumb boots I ordered online. Oh well.

It’s windy out, and I learn the following about the wind and fishing: it’s good when it blows at your face, but it’s the worst if it blows west. Of course, I hardly know which way I’m facing, and wind generally just “feels all over” to me.

We practice casting, and it’s basically like a tennis serve, except the ball is invisible, disappearing into the waves instead of bouncing off a court. When I toss the reel in, I have no idea where the line lands, but it magically gets carried to the far right in the blink of an eye.

As I’m writing this, I look up whether I have described this correctly, and, no, I have not. The correct terminology is “cast the line” or “cast the rod.” When fishing, the reel itself is not tossed or thrown. Duh.

Here's the corrected sentence:

“When I cast the line, I have no idea where it lands.”

Alternatively, I can say:

“When I cast the rod, I have no idea where the line lands.”

As I reel it in, I’m surprised at how much line spills out. I scan the surface for my dickie thing (lure). Half the time, I’m not even looking in the right spot. I do this again and again. My back begins to ache, and Jeff reminds me that this is a good core workout. I don’t tell him that I had been in bed for almost a year out of the past three. I don’t tell him that I’ll surely need to lie down afterward.

Jeff says I’m doing better than most people who can’t get the line in the water at all. I look at him quizzically. Imagine being so passionate about something in your life—right now—that you take some sorry suckers out to do it for free.

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Here are the things Jeff says I need to buy on the Tackle Direct website.

• This rod- Tsunami airwaves rod either regular or the elite.

• This reel - Daiwa BG 4500 or the Penn spinfisher 4500. You can drop down to 4000 for a lighter set up.

• This line - Power pro super slick 20Lb braid, at least 300 yards.

• This lure - Deadly Dickie lure or, another friend says, the Tsunami Pro Swim Shad Swimbait.

Any anglers out here?

A few days later, a book arrives in the mail from a friend who just caught his first 50-pounder. He often throws his catches back, comparing his catches year over year to assess the health of the ecosystem. His fishing is generational, inherited from his father, and probably his father’s father.

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Other fishing lessons shared by Jeff:

1. Letting the Fish Run:
   When a fish is hooked, it’s common to let it "run" to tire it out before attempting to reel it in. The distance a fish can run varies, but for larger fish, 300 yards is a reasonable estimate. For some reason they tend to just give up after about 8 laps.

2. Heavy Fish Weight:
   An 80-pound fish is possible to catch from shore, depending on the species (e.g., large striped bass). Losing the rod is a risk if it’s not secured or if the fish makes a sudden, powerful run. Also large strippers tend to be females who spawn, so best to throw them back.

3. Dulling the Hook:
   Slightly dulling the barbs that come on the hook is a safety precaution some use. A sharper hook can get caught in your body if a fish suddenly thrashes. Jeff tells me has only gone to the hospital twice for that. However, when I run this idea by a friend, he replies: Not if you want to catch sh*t.

4. Maintaining Tension:
   Keeping tension on the line is crucial to prevent losing a fish. If there’s slack, the hook can easily dislodge. You want to keep the rod tip slightly bowed. If you point it straight down, you’re liable to lose the fish.

On the ride back, I think about my earliest years in Amherst—lemon poppyseed bundt cake, the cow handle on the ice cream shop, bobbing for apples at parties. For my daughter, it will be banana smoothie bowls with chocolate chips, pizza at the Dive Bar, bouncy castles during Field Day. I can see the flicker of memories forming in her eyes, and they serve as transducers for remembering mine.

Now, it is vision of the skies that assail me. The sky, so physical in nature carrying birds and weather, reflecting fish below. It reminds me of everything wrong with being inside, all the places I have to be when I’m not well. I want to become an amphibious snake, and slide into the water and float on my back staring at the sky.

I hope I get another session in before going back to the city.

With much love from the blue Healingvrse,

Rebecca