The Public Eye
Oh, for a life on the open sea. Not really. Having done that as my national duty, my fondness of the ocean these days is mostly limited to standing at the edge of it and attempting to catch a free dinner.
There is something about the solitude of surf fishing that appeals greatly to me. Primarily, it's the one thing I can do and fail at miserably without anyone knowing. Well, almost anyone.
Many are the days that I have stood on the beach like an idiot in a northeast wind, rain coming down and waves crashing while convincing myself that being cold and wet is okay when you can get a free meal out of it, which, of course, is not true.
This year alone, I have spent hundreds on bait, rigs, reels, rods and line, not to mention an assortment of gadgets that I don't need but might prove useful if civilization collapses and we all have to fend for ourselves. A man in a tackle shop is worse than a man in a hardware store. You are going to buy something, even if you don't know what it is, because it's part of your genetic code.
At last count, any fish mentally deficient enough to take a swipe at my hook would run about $133.65 a pound. And that's just the inedible ones. A truly good fish would be more like a car payment.
The cost has little to do with the actual act of catching a fish. With me, it is the belief that I will inadvertently discover and buy the one thing that will make me the envy of every other angler. It's either that or I need to replace something I have broken by trying to make it "better."
It was the latter in play two weeks ago when my reel came apart as I attempted - and failed — to haul in a striper that would have been a keeper. As we all know, the odds of any fish being a keeper decrease the closer you get to landing it.
The reel came apart because I had taken it apart, lubricated it and reassembled it to make it better. Unfortunately, a spinning reel has more than one part and it's generally believed that you need all of them for it to work properly.
Otherwise, your reel will come apart and you will add to the cost-per-pound by having it fixed and, while you're there, maybe buying another rod because the other 12 are older, shorter, taller, stouter or thinner than the new one.
In that solitude on the sand, with the wind blowing and the ocean spray coating you with a fine layer of salt, you can reflect on things. Things like, if my wife really understood why I'm doing this, she wouldn't insist that I produce a profit and-loss statement on a pastime that everyone with any sense knows is free.
