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When Neptune laughs

I think Neptune has been stalking me my entire life. Not to take me out or anything, just kind of like hazing from the gods. I have been on sinking boats, nearly drowned at least once, and come through countless weather-related dramas (swearing to never do it again.) Neptune had not found me fishing on my kayak, until last week.

2015_brian_nigro_badgeI had never fished on the ocean in my kayak, so last Saturday and Sunday the seas were flat calm, and I ventured out from Ditch Plains in Montauk. Ditch Plains is a very popular spot for surfing. The reason for this is the “breaks.” These are areas where the bottom comes up, causing the waves to break further offshore. I reasoned that’s where the fish were.

My plan was to troll a tube and worm lure. It is essentially a 12- to 24-inch piece of surgical tubing tipped with a sandworm that is trolled very slowly. This makes it well suited for kayak fishing for anything from bass to porgies. Early evening Saturday, I ventured out and looked to the east. Two breaks down, birds were very active so I went east. Two minutes into my first pass I was hooked into my first bass. Then came the bluefish, I could hardly paddle before I was hooked up. Each fish took me on a “Nantucket sleigh ride” up and down the beach. Unfortunately the fun ended, when it looked like a fish was going to pull my rod out of the rod holder and I overreacted, causing the line to part.

Late morning Sunday I ventured out again to the same area. The water was placid and crystal clear. I could see ever detail of the bottom as I passed over it. The water had been turbid the previous evening. As I began trolling over rocks and rough bottom, I was looking for signs of life. I watched a striped bass swim under my boat, heading straight towards my lure. A minute later my rod was doubled over. It was a wonderland! I saw schools of bluefish, porgies hanging out where the rough bottom met the sand, blackfish feeding on barnacles. The blues were gators, the small ones were 30 inches. As the blues tire, instead of dragging you they spin the boat around and around. I was in the throes of a bluefish spin when I was approached by a guy on a stand up paddle board. It was like Otto from the Simpsons met me out on the grounds.

“Dude, you’re killin’ ’em,” said Otto. “Thanks?” I said. I was focused. My greatest fear is a bluefish jumping into my lap while kayaking. I was not in a conversational mood. Besides, Otto was weird. I landed the fish and headed home. The seas whipped up that night.

I was hooked. I wanted to get out there one more time. So when the NOAA coastal marine forecast said seas three feet or less on Thursday, I had to check it out. Long, gentle three-foot rollers were standing up to 4 to 6 feet as they approached shore. I had the fever. I was committed. Neptune smiled.

I had a strategy, everything was tied down on my boat. Rod, waterproof bag, paddle — everything. My plan was to swim the boat past the breakers, jump in like a ninja, and paddle like a demon. Sounds reasonable right?

In fact, that is not reasonable. After seven attempts, a lost foot rest and achieving total exhaustion, I was off. That placid water I had fished four days before was now a ferocious break. Only the really good surfers rode these waves. Have no fear — my alter ego Stupid-Brian had another plan. I would fish just outside this nasty piece of water before the breaks. I decided this would be the sweet spot.

It was the sweet spot, after a few minutes my rod doubled over. The drag was screaming out. I was just holding on. The hiccup in Stupid-Brian’s plan was not anticipating the “Nantucket sleigh ride.” This beast was taking me inshore to the break area! Watching a six foot wave start to curl over you while you sit helpless, broadside to the wave is not fun. Stupid-Brian grimly held on, if the fish turned offshore and put my bow first into the wave, all would be well. It listened, and it turned out being a monstrous bluefish. As I released it, I actually said out loud, “This is unsafe. I should head in.” While paddling back, I was formulating a plan to get back on the beach. “This should be easy.” I reasoned: “Drop in a wave and ride it home, no problemo.” My fishing rod was stowed vertically in the rod holder and bungeed down and everything else was tied down, one way or another. I already had my life jacket on.

The moment of truth arrived. I picked my wave and dropped in beautifully. Hundreds of people on the beach must be looking on in wonder, as I dragged my paddle behind me left or right to steer.

That’s the exact moment, as I pondered my coolness, that the bow of my kayak bit the sand.

I was catapulted into the wash of the receding wave. When I stood up, sans hat and sunglasses, the first thing I saw was my boat broadsiding my face. Then I was knocked around and held down by the wave. I stood up, got my bearings, took note that I was now nearly nude from the waist down, my fishing rod was shattered and the kayak was inshore, off me. On pure adrenaline, I hiked up my trunks, stormed in, grabbed the bow handle on the boat and dragged my kayak to safety up the beach.

I felt a lot less cool. Neptune was laughing.

Brian Nigro is a lifelong avid fisherman and former charter boat captain. He’s fished from Alaska to Mexico and lots of places in between, but his favorite place to fish is right here on the East End.
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