A Tribute to "Surfers Healing"

THE FOLLOWING IS A NON-FISHING BLOG POST.  BUT I ENCOURAGE YOU TO READ IT ANYWAY.  I'LL GET BACK TO FISHING NEXT TIME....


Recently my son Clayton had the opportunity to participate in Virginia Beach's Surfer's Healing event for children with autism.  This was the sixth time he has gone surfing with the pros, and I must say, he absolutely loved it.  But it wasn't always this way.

Surfers Healing is a terrific organization, with a unique approach to helping families dealing with autism.  Rather than get into any more about the Foundation, I'll just link you to their site:  surfershealing.org.  I encourage you to check them out.  And if you are able, please contribute to them, or any other worthy Autism organization.

While I have spoken of Clayton's love for the ocean since he was very small, the first time he participated in Surfers' Healing he wasn't as crazy about it.  In fact he was downright NOT into it.  We had to convince him he was going to like it, and then when we got to the beach and got Clayton signed in, we were impressed with the number of people involved or participating in this event.  We had spent the night in Virginia Beach, having gone to the Luau the night before the event, and then went to the beach with family that had sponsored one of the oversized surf boards that the pro surfers use to carry and surf with their special doubles partners.

The event was eye opening to us, in that it provided an occasion where our son, who like others with autism may often be neglected by others, was one of the stars!  The outbursts, tics and actions often associated with those affected by autism were commonplace, as excited children everywhere were letting their feelings show.  And, on a beach where perhaps any other day these hand flaps and squeals may be met with a critical eye by those unaware of their affliction, here there was none of that.

The children were all embraced and encouraged, and the parents and family members had a chance to meet, share, socialize and cheer on their special surfers in a comfortable and loving environment.  I would be lying if I said there weren't several times that day, when my eyes didn't get "misty".

And who was taking these often-first-time surfers onto the boards?  Why, none other than professional surfers from all over the country, who come to Virginia Beach to participate in one of the oldest Surfing championships in the country -- the East Coast Surfing Championship.  My older son and daughter were looking at all these surfers with bug eyes and open mouths.  "I have his poster on my wall!", Parke and Sheldon said more than once.  And their brother got to go surfing with these guys???  Perhaps it was one of the first times that they were jealous of their brother..

When it was Clayton's turn to surf, he was given a life jacket and escorted to one of the awaiting surfers.  Many kids weren't enthusiastic about getting in the water or going surfing.  But they were lovingly taken and  "encouraged" through strong arms and kind words to the surfers, who have a natural knack for getting these kids on board -- pun intended.  And once they are in the water, it is nothing but smiles.  The anxiety disappears, and for several minutes it's all about fun and doing something they don't get the chance to do too often -- if at all.

Riding the board sponsored by SteelMasters, Clayton's smile on his first day surfing beamed brighter than the sun.

On the beach is nothing but cheering and the clicking of camera shutters as everyone tries to capture these precious and rare moments of their children having the time of their lives.  Even as I write this, it brings a lump to my throat, as I remember how special it was to feel so embraced and encouraged by the community; and to watch your child as the center of attention once -- and not just someone in the background, while everybody else does their thing.  Nope, today it was all about these special kids.  And we loved it!  And just as importantly, Clayton did too.

Once with one surfer wasn't enough for Clayton.  He wanted to do it again!  And the  kind and supportive volunteers and surfers were willing to oblige this first timer.  The smiles say it all.

The only thing as cool as the surfing, is the "Gold Medal" each of the surfers is awarded after their adventure.  Every year, Clayton wears his medal literally until bedtime that night....  This photo from 2008 shows his joy in his medal.

The following year, we made sure we did it again.  And the next.  And every year since.  Clayton has gone from hating the day (we had to bribe him with a pizza party afterwards) to now he looks forward to it, and will happily do as many rides as the surfers are willing and able to give him.

As Clayton is not one of the smaller surfers, he had some of the bigger, stronger surfers helping him.  Kilani, a surfer from Hawaii, was Clayton's pro for three years straight.  And they both remembered each other each time.

Clayton with Kilani in 2010.  We got to the point where we looked for him.

Clayton with Kilani last year... on the original SteelMaster board again.

Clayton and Kilani one more time in 2011.

Of course, once word spread of how much Clayton enjoyed his day surfing, others who love him came to see him in his glory, too.

Family that have come to watch Clayton include Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles, cousins, and friends that are  "Family".  And everybody gets something out of it.  But Clayton absolutely loves his day of attention.

As Clayton has gotten older, he has enjoyed the day more and more.  And he has gotten better, too.  So even though this year it was just his mother and me that accompanied him, we were thrilled with his experience.

We got to Virginia Beach just as a hard cloudburst erupted for about 30 minutes or so.  We stayed dry until the rain stopped, and then made our way to the beach.  The next thing we knew the sun was out, and the weather turned quite beautiful.  We got Clayton signed up, went right in the line and waited our turn.  We searched the surfers for the broad, muscular body of Kilani, and were a little disappointed we didn't see him.  When it was Clayton's turn, he was appointed to a slight, wiry Californian named Justin.

"This should be interesting", I thought, as it was obvious Clayton outweighed his pro.  But with Clayton's enthusiasm and Justin's encouragement, they went out into the surf and had a great time.  Justin even encouraged Clayton to get up on his knees for several rides, highlighted by riding backwards for his last one. Even Kilani never did that....

Justin worked with Clayton, getting him on his knees for several rides.

He even got him kneeling up for a bit....

But going backwards on the last wave was the most impressive.  Way to go Justin and Clayton!

When it was all said and done, Clayton ran to get his "Gold Medal" and his lei, and we posed for photos with our new surfing hero, Justin, the boy wonder!

Justin and Clayton.  I don't think I've ever seen Clayton with a bigger smile.  It was another successful venture.

Looking at the sun and blue sky, it's hard to imagine that it had been a heavy downpour an hour earlier.  Now it was time to have lunch (thanks Chick FilA) and watch others surf... while we enjoyed sitting on the beach.

When we were ready to leave, we finally saw the original board (sponsored by family, through Steel Master), being used as a prop by one of the volunteer tents.  We got one last photo with it, and then hit the road... happy and tired.

Mama and Clayton, as we were getting ready to leave the beach.   Clayton had the most fun I think he's ever had at this year's Surfers Healing event.

When we got home, the day was far from over -- at least for Clayton.  He wore his medal until bedtime, and put on his new Surfers Healing shirt after he had his shower.  Then he put on his t-shirt again Sunday morning, and insisted on wearing it -- and his gold medal again -- to church.

No, that medal, and all 5 of his others, will lose their luster (but not their place of honor in his room) long before we lose our memories of the joy that so many families get to share.  Special families, with special kids.  And these special kids, at least for one day, are stars on the beach.

Thank you, Surfers Healing.  There are families all over the country that appreciate your efforts -- and the break from the day to day grind that you provide, at least for one day each summer....

Until next time,

Surf ON!

(Or Surf's up.)

Dan

P.S.  Again, I want to give you access to the link surfershealing.org, so that you can learn more about this organization, its founder, and all the good that it does.  Thank you.
 

P.P.S.
Going to the V.B Surfers Healing Facebook site, I found these photos of Clayton taken by someone with a "GoPro" type waterproof camera.

The view from the water, as Justin and Clayton wait for a wave....

While they were waiting, they saw us waving encouragement, so Clayton waved back.

Justin then tried to help Clayton give us the "Hang Loose" sign.
Hang Loose, Clayton!

Of Trucks, Trains, Transportation, Trout, "Trolling" and ... Tacos??

Yesterday I finally had the opportunity to go out kayak fishing with Jerry around the Western Freeway Bridge over the Elizabeth River between Portsmouth and Norfolk.  We've wanted to get out there for more than a month now, but tides, timing and weather have not been in our favor until yesterday.  I wanted a high tide early in the morning, so that we could fish the outgoing tide.  I also wanted to get out there early, because this is a major stretch of water for Hampton Roads, and is used frequently by both commercial ships, as well as recreational boaters.  Marine terminals, such as that for A.P. Maersk nearby, can be very busy when ships are loading/unloading cargo to be delivered by trucks and trains to cities around the country.  I wanted to be fishing this "big water" when it was quiet... not when I would have to worry about ships and boat wakes threatening to tip me over.  And noise and high sun also don't help the fishing.

I got to Jerry's a little after 7 a.m., and Mr. "I-Want-To-Leave-Early-Because-I-Have-Things-To-Do-Later" hadn't even finished loading his kayak and fishing gear on his truck.  AND, he still had to go online and update/buy a new Virginia fishing license.  So, it was 8 a.m. before we finally launched from a client's house who lives 15 minutes away from Jerry.

Compared to the "skinny" shallow water I'm used to fishing, this water was much wider and deeper -- okay for Jerry with his 12' Field & Stream Sit-On, but had there been waves, my 10' Sit-In kayak can get swamped more easily. Especially because this is a major commercial highway for marine traffic. Fortunately the winds were calm, and the boat traffic was light.

We paddled downstream toward the bridge, and saw the channel I wanted to fish.  But first, as a boat sped by, I told Jerry if one of us was tipped that the other should gather whatever gear he could, while the tipper stayed with his kayak.

With heavier jig heads to reach the bottom, we fished the pilings and bulwarks along the shore and bridge -- hoping to catch a flounder or two.  Nothing.  The current was starting to move along a little stronger, so we drifted  and paddled down further to an area I had heard that was good for speckled trout.

The Western Freeway connects North Suffolk, Portsmouth and Norfolk together.  This section of the Elizabeth River here  is surrounded by commercial businesses of all sizes -- including A P Maersk.  The first channel we fished is visible in this shot, as the main opening under the bridge.  Not visible is the beautiful neighborhood from which we launched -- basically directly under where this shot was taken.  The area we fished for trout was off to the left of this shot.

When we arrived to the section I had heard about, a father and two sons were already fishing nearby in a boat.  I watched them catch a couple of small fish before they moved on.  Meanwhile Jerry and I still hadn't caught squat.  We each tried different areas around the point we were near, and I noticed another boat had pulled up and was fishing near a line of crabpots.  Knowing that crabbers often put their pots near a channel, I paddled over within a hundred yards of the boater.  But unlike him (he was fishing for trout by casting down current, and twitching his lure back up toward him, I cast up current, and did my normal "trout" retrieve -- slow, with twitching.

A hit.  Fish on.  I brought it in and was pleased to see a 13" speckled trout.  I carefully tried to show Jerry, who was too far away to see, and then gently released the fish back into the water.  I cast again, and almost immediately was rewarded with another strike.  This time I brought in a beautiful, fat 16 incher.  I put him on my stringer, and finally got Jerry's attention.  I signaled for him to come over to me, and told him to use his lighter jig head with the soft shad tail like I was using.  Meanwhile the boater pulled away, frustrated at no signs of fish.

No sooner did Jerry come over and do as I say, when I'm rewarded with another 16 incher.  On my stringer he went, as I noticed yet another boat pull up near the point.  This one had a guy and girl, both about 25 or so, with rods and "popping corks".  Both were in bathing suits, and Jerry made the comment to me, "There's the perfect woman."

"What do you mean," I asked.

"She looks good in a bikini and loves to fish."

We both laughed.  Then we watched her get her line hung up and snagged.  Well, maybe she had a little more to learn before she was perfect.  But she was still young.  The guy caught a small trout, then helped her.

Meanwhile, Jerry was finally getting strikes, but unable to convert to a catch.  As I caught two more "shorties" that I released, the couple finally pulled away.

Another father and son pulled up, and started fishing nearby.  I cast, let my rod set for a moment, then felt a tug.  I was rewarded with a short puppy drum with 6 spots.  My first one of the season, and I gently released him, hoping to catch him again in a couple years when he would be good eating size.

I saw Jerry's rod go down, and watched him fight a nice fish.  He netted a beautiful 18" speck, and finally had something on his stringer.  I hooked a small croaker, and then just like that, the fishing died.

The clouds were starting to build around us, and the wind picked up a bit, so we decided to start working our way back.  Between the wind in our face, and the strong current, we were definitely getting a work out.


I did tell Jerry I was a little nervous about towing a couple of fish from my kayak in "bigger water".  


"Why", he asked.

"This is why,"  I answered.

This classic picture is real, not photo shopped.  It's why I don't have a "yum yum" yellow kayak... like Jerry.

Or, more recently (like last weekend)...

This 12-14' Great White trailed a "first time kayaker" off the Massachusetts shore last weekend.   The question is, was it also his last time?

Typically when I kayak fish in the ocean, I don't keep my fish on a stringer, as I feel like I'm trolling for sharks.  I carry a net bag, and keep the fish I catch in that.  Because you just never know when this might happen to a fish that you've caught....
Big A$$ Shark Takes Girl's Fish


And we all know that bull sharks love to swim up rivers, and are a deadly man eater....  I certainly don't want a shark to think I'm ringing the dinner bell for any reason, by trolling or --even worse -- being mistaken for being the meal.  Ha ha.


An hour or so later when we finally and safely made it back to the launch, we were spent.  Jerry got out of his kayak on the boat slip, and he was soaking wet and fatigued.  


"Did you get wet from the waves, or is that sweat?" I asked.


"Sweat", he responded.  I laughed.  But I wasn't too much dryer.


He got up and I told him to hold up his fish for a picture.

A sweaty, exhausted, but happy Jerry, as he held up his 18" speck.

"Dude," I said, "That is not how you hold a fish.  Do it my way," I kidded.

Jerry holding his fish closer to the camera to make it look bigger.  It didn't help too much, but it was a nice fat fish anyway.

I docked, got my stuff on the slip. and then we faced the unenviable task of carrying our kayaks all the way back to our trucks.  With jello arms, no less.  We lugged our kayaks back to our trucks, (taking several breaks this time) and called it a day.  I was exhausted, but was also looking forward to dinner, as Jerry was kind enough to give his fish to me, since he had other plans.

Having had "carnitas" at Randy's the night before, I looked at all the leftover fixings they had had, and told them tomorrow night I would make fish tacos with whatever I caught, and we would use up the rest of their sides.  I went online and found a Bobby Flay recipe that called for a "white flaky fish", and decided to go with that.  I used his recipe as a guide, but must confess I didn't stick to it all the way.  Having said that, the basics were his.

The 6 beautiful trout fillets marinading in lime juice, canola oil, chili pepper, cilantro, and chopped jalapenos, right before I quickly pan-seared them in my cast iron skillet.  Then we laid a fillet in a flour tortilla, and built our tacos from there.  They were outstanding!

Randy and Kim brought over two nice chardonnays, and we had an enjoyable evening with great food and conversation.  It was a good day, and I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Having said that, today, as I write this, I must confess my shoulders and upper arms have never been more sore.  I feel as if I spent two hours yesterday, doing nothing but bench press 100 pounds again and again and again.  Still, I can't wait to go back and do it again.  Especially because I've heard that there are citation sized speckled trout there, yet to be had....

Until next time,

Fish ON!

Dan


  

A Surprising, "Speck"tacular Morning.

After years of borrowing other people's kayaks, my buddy Jerry finally was ready to join our "Plastic Navy", and got a kayak of his own several months ago.  The problem was that it had literally not moved out of his dining room or hallway since he got it.  It was in his house for more than FOUR MONTHS before he ever decided to go use it.  He talked to me at work, and said that he was free Saturday morning, so did we want to go try and fish a new stretch of water he knew of, about 10 miles away from where we normally fish.  It was bigger water, with the potential for flounder near some structure, in deeper water.  As I had just met with a client that had caught a 28" flounder last weekend, I was psyched to catch a "door mat", myself.  I was game, so we called Mike (since he has the pickup truck) and got him to join us.  He could carry all the kayaks.

Unfortunately, the wind did not cooperate.  A few days ago, a system came through and the wind hasn't died down yet.  As I've stated before, I don't mind heat, or cold, or rain or snow, but wind will get me off the water... unless you are in water protected from the blow.  So we had to put our hopes of catching a big flounder on the back burner, and we decided to break in Jerry's new kayak on our normal stretch of water.  Typically this time of year, it's good for croaker and small fish, and not much else.  But at least we were kayak fishing.

When I first arrived at our launch, the wind was only getting stronger and I could hear waves lapping on the beach.  Regrettably I knew we had made the right decision.  I walked to look at the river and the pier.  Two boys were fishing off the end of the pier, and there was some splashing in two feet of water, right next to them.  A porpoise was chasing fish that were in the shallows....  That should have been a hint to me that this morning was going to be special.  Mike arrived with the kayaks, his son, and Jerry.  The porpoise was gone, but the boys were still fishing and catching some small croaker.

After unloading our kayaks, including Jerry's fancy-dancy aircraft carrier sized yum-yum yellow Sit-on-kayak (okay, so maybe I was a little jealous at how nice it is....)  we dedicated Jerry's kayak, (which I named the "Jerry Rig") on the pier.  Jerry then said Judge Smails boat speech from "Caddy Shack",
Judge Smail's dedication to his new boat.,
and we launched and headed right to our channel, before Rodney Dangerfield could come and sink us.  The channel would also provide some protection from the growing whitecaps in the big river.

As I neared the mouth of the channel, I glanced toward a dock and saw two more porpoises leaving its mouth.  Interesting, I thought.  But now that they were gone, whatever they were feeding on, could come out and feed itself.

The tide was still high, the water level higher than normal with the wind pushing it in, and we could look in the water and see baitfish everywhere.  I mean everywhere.  And it was baitfish ranging from less than an inch in length, to jumping mullet and shad a foot long or more.  The water itself, though, was murky, having been stirred up by days of wind.  Only croaker like murky water, I was thinking....

SIDEBAR:  Everytime I think I understand fish, they do something that makes me realize I don't know half as much as I thought.  High tide had just occurred 30 minutes before we launched.  The water wasn't moving yet, and the level hadn't dropped at all.  I've had more success two hours after high tide, than most other times here, so I wouldn't have launched yet.  But boy was I glad we did.  And I have to completely rethink my fishing strategy going forward.  I just don't know when is a good time to fish.... Yes I do.  Anytime you can!  Because you never know what's going to happen....  Even when you think you do.  As Mike likes to say of himself, "Often wrong, but seldom in doubt."

I tried a few different soft baits in different colors, avoiding the known "croaker colors", but finally decided to go for the "electric chicken" shad -- knowing that it is not the preferred color of croakers, but I have had good success for other fish with it.  I'd rather catch something different than a stringer full of small croaker.  I cast up the channel, drifted, twitched, reeled slowly, and repeated.  Fish on.  It felt like a shad, I thought, so I didn't ready my net.  Bad mistake.  I bring up the fish, and it's a 14-15" speckled trout -- that spit the hook just as I lifted his head out of the water.  Dangit!  I cast again and readied the net.  Drift.  Twitch.  Reel.  Fish on again.  This time that 15" bugger came right to my net and he was on my stringer.  The Specks were around, and they started boiling the surface all around us.  It was a sight to see, and I knew we better take advantage of it while it lasted; because a trout bite starts suddenly, and then typically turns off just as suddenly....  (Usually.  But today was anything but.  Often wrong, but seldom in doubt.)

I had the lucky joojoo or mojo today, because I had three fish on my stringer before anyone else ever got one.  We caught several small ones, but every now and then I'd catch another keeper.  I cast again, did my usual retrieve, and suddenly had another fish on.  I fought the fish with a steady pull.  The fish was swimming towards me, so I thought it was another typical fish for these waters.  Then the fish realized he was hooked and coming towards my orange boat.  He turned, ran, and my rod bent in half.  That's when I realized he was not my typical trout.  "This might be a striper", I said to the others around me as the fish pulled me against the current, headed up stream.  Finally he tired, but he still kept diving down to the bottom, as opposed to coming to the surface.  I reeled and waited patiently a little longer.  When he finally showed himself under my kayak, I got an adrenaline rush.  This was a special fish for these waters.  I quickly lowered the net, but the fish dived again, and went into my stringer of other fish.  I could only pray he wouldn't get tangled with the others and break free.  He didn't.  He swung around one more time out, in front, around and then under my kayak, and as he came out the other side again, he went head first into my net.  I let out a small shout, and pulled up my stringer.  I knew immediately this was the biggest speck any of us had ever caught here.  It was definitely bigger than any of the nice trout I had caught the previous fall, and it was FAT.  I found that as surprising as anything, since the fall trout are usually the fat ones, having feasted all summer long.

The guys around me "oohed and aahed" as I hooked the "gator" onto my stringer.  I was pumped.  A couple more keepers later, and I was ready for a photo on the water of me holding the fish.

An unexpected treat turned a disappointing day of not flounder fishing, into a terrific day of speckled trout catching.  Including this new record for our stretch of water.  A 21" fat speck, that will taste wonderful broiled with dill, lemon and butter.  While I was on this shoreline, I watched a couple cownose rays swim up the channel, looking for shellfish to devour.  But we didn't hook any of them today....   

The guys around me all caught a few, with everyone catching at least one keeper fish.  Colin showed his proficiency at catching croaker, while every one else was catching specks.  A bit of a highlight was when Mike's rod bent down and he grabbed it, reeling in a small 10" puppy drum.  A year old fish, that showed that our little fishery was recovering from the two cold winters we had had before this past milder one.  Two more milder winters, and this and all his brothers, sisters and cousins, will be prime puppy drum for catching (for blackening!  Yum!).

As far as Jerry... well, the wind was pushing him and his Field & Stream sit on kayak all over the channel.  He spent more time cursing and paddling than he did catching fish.  But, he did break in his new yak and rod with a few fish.  And that's all that mattered.  And it was he who took the photo above of me with some of my fish.  So I was glad he was there.  And I was glad he could finally go fishing, and encouraged us all to.

When we finally headed back to shore, the trout were still flopping and baitfish were still all around us.  Only because we had had enough did we leave the water.  The fish were still biting, and I caught two more on two casts right before hitting the beach.  It was a memorable morning, for sure.  By the time it was all said and done, I honestly don't know how many total specks I caught, but I kept six or so.  And between all of us, we had 10 fish.

I like it when at the end of a fishing excursion the bow of my kayak looks like this.  A successful day on the water, it was.  "Agent Orange" was quite effective, to say the least.

We loaded up the kayaks and all our stuff, and I glanced and saw that the fish were still flopping and feeding.   We talked about going out again the next day, Father's Day.  But it would conflict with church, and I honestly doubt that tomorrow could be anything like today.  Better yet, tomorrow we'll eat these babies for a delicious Father's Day dinner.

When we got to Mike's, we filleted and bagged the fish.  It was a good day.  And it will be a good meal tomorrow.  So maybe we didn't get to "flounder" around in a new body of water.  The morning was even more "speck"tacular, because of the unusual trout bite we had in our normal hole.  I even said, had we fished the new water and had this happen, we would have thought it was awesome, and couldn't wait to go back.  The fact that it happened where we fish all the time only made it more so.  And we can't wait to go back.  So...  Until next time...

This 21" gator will be my Father's Day dinner tomorrow.  With a nice Pinot Grigio, broiled with lemon, dill, a hint of garlic and butter... and mmmm, I'm drooling already.

Fish ON!

Dan

An Angler's Book Review: The Snowfly, by Joseph Heywood.

A novel that was recommended to me... that I'm recommending to my readers -- especially if you love fly fishing.  Please continue reading for my full review.

There haven't been too many posts that I've written where I mention books that I've enjoyed.  I know I've mentioned a few in the past, such as "On the Run", and "A River Runs Through It", as well as various "How-To" books, especially regarding stripers and inshore saltwater fishing.  But rarely have I enjoyed a book so much that I feel compelled to recommend it to my fellow Angler-philes (as opposed to the Anglo-philes who are all aflutter over the Queen's "Diamond Jubilee", the celebration of her 60th year of her reign.  But I digress).


After I wrote my most recent post about fly fishing, and my love for it's art and simplicity, I got a message from a friend of mine from high school who writes a book blog.  She asked if I had ever read the novel, "The Snowfly", by Joseph Heywood.  I hadn't.  She strongly recommended it, saying she had been giving it to family and friends who enjoy fishing, for years.  I was intrigued.  I called our local library, and they had it.  I picked it up on my way home from work one evening, and was glad I did.  So here is my first official book review... and don't worry, Leslie, I'm not going to make this a habit and invade your turf that you cover so well with your Book Addict Blog.  bookaddict1.blogspot.com


If I had to characterize Heywood's novel, "The Snowfly" in one sentence, it would be something like, Nelson DeMille writes "Forrest Gump" in "A River Runs Through It."  How's that for three different styles.  Let me explain:

I'm not familiar with Joseph Heywood (though I'm now intrigued enough to read another of his novels).  But I do know Nelson DeMille.  DeMille writes in a number of styles, but often in first person, and often his stories involve international settings and intrigue -- check.  You've got that here with Heywood's book.

The protagonist, Bowie Rhodes grows up in Michigan, learns about trout fishing, and becomes a writer for UPI.  As a young "cub reporter", he is sent to Vietnam, and then England, and finally the Soviet Union, before going up to Canada, and then back to Michigan, while pursuing other writing endeavors.  Various spies, scientists, cops, and even the KGB all play a part in the web of suspense and mystery that become the plot of "The Snowfly."

While Winston Groom's novel, "Forrest Gump" is quite different than the movie made famous with Tom Hanks, it does describe a "special" young man who happens to be placed in a number of situations that were an important part of our history in the 1960's and '70's.  Rhodes is in Vietnam during the Tet Offensive, in the UK during troubles between the IRA of Northern Ireland and England, and the Soviet Union during the height of the Cold War.  And he even meets an internationally famous celebrity.

"A River Runs Through It", (the novella written by Norman MacLean) tells of a family, and it's passion for trout fishing in Montana, using very descriptive, even metaphysical language in its pages, as it describes the relationship between two brothers and the art that is fly fishing.  In fact, one critic (Chicago Tribune critic Alfred Kazin) wrote of the book that "there are passages here of physical rapture in the presence of unsullied, primitive America, that are as beautiful as anything in Thoreau and Hemingway."  I only point that out because of Hemingway....  And that's all I will say about that -- beside the fact that we all probably had to read his epic tale of "The Old Man and The Sea".

Throughout his novel, Heywood plants the seed, grows, weaves and intertwines Bowie's love for trout fishing all over the world (yes even in Vietnam), as well as his increasing obsession with the mystery that is ... the snowfly.  What is the snowfly?  Why do some men risk everything they have, and even die for it?  And is there any truth to the legend, and the monster trout that follow it, where ever, and when ever it so rarely hatches?

When Bowie is fishing, casting the various flies it takes to entice different kinds of trout that are rising below the surface under any number of waters around the world, the reader definitely feels like he is standing there with him, thanks to Heywood's description of the art and the sport that is fly fishing.  And we all wish we had Bowie's talent or gift for finding and catching fish -- even in waters previously unknown to him.

Add a little sex, love, political intrigue, murder, ongoing unanswered questions that even a persistent reporter can't get answers to, and colorful characters throughout the book from around the world, and you have over 450 pages, that when you come to its satisfying (and somewhat unexpected) ending, you feel as you often do at the end of a good book -- that you have gained, and just said goodbye to, a good friend.  I can't think of a better compliment for the author.

It's not a new book, as it was published back in 2000, so this review isn't anything cutting edge.  But I will say this:  if you enjoy fishing (which if you're reading my blog, you must) and you enjoy reading (which if you're reading my blog, you must), then I believe you will enjoy this book.  Go by your library today, and give yourself a treat this weekend.  And Leslie, if you have any other suggestions, I'm all ears (or eyes, as the case may be.)

Until next time,

Read on!

Dan

Postscript:  My next door neighbor is a retired former Marine, and U.S. Army colonel, who doesn't fish, and reads nothing but non-fiction.  Recently he was laid up for a few weeks, because he had both his hips replaced.  He came over one day, and asked if I could give him a beer (his wife wouldn't let him drink while he was on pain meds, so he had to sneak one if he wanted it -- some tough guy, huh).  During our conversation, he told me how bored he was.  I had the book on the table next to me, so I gave it to him and said to give it a shot.  He returned it a week later, and said how impressed he was.  He really enjoyed it.  It grabbed his attention early on, and that there were enough twists and turns in the plot -- especially towards the end, that it really kept his interest.  I can't use the salty language he used, but let's just say he was also impressed with Bowie's women and fishing skills....  So, for what it's worth, there's another objective opinion.

Fly(fish)ing on Standby

A very good friend of mine is getting ready to go on one of my "bucket list" trips.  He's going to go out to Montana for a week of fly fishing for trout.  To say I'm jealous would be an understatement.  But good for him, that he is able to go.  As he isn't much of a fisherman, let alone "fly fisherman", he wisely took a few days and went up to Wintergreen, Virginia, to take a few fly casting lessons.  That way he won't spend precious fishing time, learning to cast his fly when he is out in Montana.  And, he said, he even caught four trout up in Wintergreen!

Shoot, I thought, I'd even like to go out to the mountains of Virginia for some fly fishing, myself.  I used to do it at least once a year.  But now that I live in Tidewater, I just don't make the effort to go to the mountains the way I used to when I lived up in Richmond.

Anyway, I told him that now that he has learned the basics, he can do what I do sometimes, and walk down to the lake and keep in practice fly fishing for bluegills.  It's wide open there, so you don't have to worry about low hanging trees.  It's simple and fun, and keeps your "10 to 2" casting skills sharp.  And every now and then, you might just catch a large mouth bass that makes it even more fun!

Just talking about it with him made me want to go.  Especially since lately the weather has not been cooperative for kayak fishing.  So last night I went down to the lake in the early evening, and fished for about 45 minutes.  More than half a dozen bluegills later, I had had my fill, and the bluegills were wise to my fly.  Unfortunately, once again my camera wasn't working, so you'll have to take my word for it.

Then again, tonight, I went down as well.  In 30 minutes, I caught about 4 or 5, and  this time even got a (bad) picture of me with one of them.  The bluegills were tough little scrappers, and a couple of them were even good "pan-sized", if I were so inclined.  I wasn't.  So they went back to their beds none the worse for wear.

Simple pleasures.  Simple fishing.  On a couple of simply beautiful evenings.  Who knows.  Maybe my friend will get sick and need someone to take his place....  I'll consider myself on "standby" for him.  I'm ready.   :)

Okay, so it's not the best photo, but this little guy was one of close to a dozen  bluegills I  caught the last two evenings keeping my fly casting skills sharp.  A simple way to have fun, that takes some skill.  Are you ready to "fly"?

Until next time,

(Fly) Fish on!

Dan

P.S.  Speaking of simple, and priceless pleasures and treasures, I came home from work last night and saw what my daughter had made for me in her art class.  Without a doubt, it's the best fish I've gotten all year!  I love it.

Without a doubt, the coolest, best flounder ever!  I love it and will cherish this priceless treasure.  Let alone, the detail and craftsmanship is amazingly accurate.  It looks real!  Thank you, Sheldon!

P.P.S  Another simple pleasure:  I went fishing with my younger son, Clayton tonight, and he caught a new world record crappie.  It had to be at least 12 lbs.  But we let it go, to fight another day.  Actually, it was a pretty crappie, and it was a good size, but I had to laugh when I saw the photo.  Clayton has taken my trick of holding a fish close to the camera, to the next level.  When you stick the rod right up to the camera, the fish looks simply monstrous!  Cast your eyes on the new world record 12 pound white crappie!  Ha ha.

You are looking at a world record white crappie.  It was 33" long, and weighed 12 pounds.  Well, not really.  But the photo makes it look that way.  Actually, however, it was the biggest crappie that Clayton has ever caught, and he truly did it all by himself.  I was casting the flyrod (to no avail tonight) when he told me he had a fish.  And this is what he caught.  Yay, Clayton!

The Long and Short (and Wide) of Fishing....

I haven't posted much lately, because I haven't had the opportunities to go fishing too often so far this spring.  New job and kids will do that to you.  (The job is new, that is... not the kids.)  I'm not complaining, just explaining.  Anyway, hopefully I'll be able to get out there more from this point forward.

I do have a few stories, however, from the last few weeks, so let's get up to date.

A couple weeks ago Clayton and I decided to go fishing down at the point of the lake near our house.  It was a beautiful Saturday evening, and the brim were more than cooperative.  We caught several bluegill, and even a small bass.  Turtles, ducks and geese were all around us, and when we walked home at dusk, we had had a good time.  Clayton even smiled for a photo of him with one of the fish!

"Wanted:  more fish, big fish, and more wonderful  Father-Son time."   We had a  great evening, and then went home and watched a movie with a big bowl of homemade popcorn.  

The following weekend, I was alone and had some free time, so after a full day of doing yard work, I decided to wet a line.  I was too tired to go kayak fishing, and it was cooler and windier than I like, so I went down to the point where I had been with Clayton.  The fish were not as cooperative as they had been the week before, but I did catch one monster....  Okay, well, at least the cigar was good.

I did have to forward this photo to my son Parke, as well as my brother Ted, and my good fishing buddy Mark, with the caption:  "I bet I caught a bigger bass than you did today", knowing that none of them had had the chance to wet a line at all.  I was right.  As short as it was, it was the biggest fish any of us caught that day.  But Ted would get the last laugh....

Even if I were to do my "hold the fish close to the camera to make it look bigger" trick, there is no disguising the fact that this was a small, short largemouth bass.  To its credit, however, the fish jumped four times, and fought hard for such a little guy.  Hopefully one day I'll catch him again, and he'll be a citation size.

Then one night later in the week, I finally had the opportunity to go out kayak fishing for the first time this year.  The evening was pretty, and there were several people fishing along the river bank as I paddled to the dam.  It was great to be back out on the water.  The ospreys were circling and crying out, and a great blue heron was never too far away, searching for his own fish.

I saw two older men fishing the dam from the riverbank, and paddled over to them to ask if they'd had any luck.  I'm not exaggerating when I say, between the two of them, they had two teeth.  (PSA ALERT:  Kids, brush and floss every day .)  Well, they had caught a couple of nice crappie on live minnows, so I went and fished the other side of the river by the dam, not to disturb their spot, and before long, my rod bent and there was a fish on!  I brought it to my plastic boat, and was pleased to see a 14" spotted bass (a first cousin of the large mouth).  Only the second one I've ever caught.  Unfortunately, my camera on my phone wasn't working at the moment, so you'll just have to take my word for it, but as dusk settled in and I paddled back, it was nice to know I wasn't skunked.  And I watched a couple guys land a nice sized blue catfish, too.

Slightly more coppery in color, with a slightly smaller mouth, the spotted bass can easily be confused for its more well known cousin, the "large mouth bass", but for the fact that it's lateral side is more spotted than lined, and its mouth is slightly smaller (though not nearly as small as a "small mouth bass".   It's kind of like 3/4 largemouth, and 1/4 smallmouth in its looks. 

I look forward to getting out there again, for more bass, and maybe a bowfin or big blue cat, myself.  As I stated, it was great to be back out on the water in my "Agent Orange" kayak.

Then, Friday afternoon, I was in my office doing paperwork, when I got a text message from my brother.  "What have you caught today?"  Was the text.  And this was the photo:

Nothing makes you more jealous than, while you're at work, getting a photo of this -- Ted holding a beautiful 43" striped bass caught from the surf of Fenwick, Delaware.  He and Buckley (his Golden Doodle in the foreground), had gone down for the day, ahead of the rest of the family, and it had been worth it.

I called Ted to get the details of the catch.  He had gone down ahead of his family for the weekend, to surf fish for the day, and had his hands full, catching skates, rays, and three large dog fish.  When suddenly, his rod bent, and he fought the fish, not knowing it was a striper until seeing its silvery sides with stripes as it came to the surf.  Then the big cow shook her head and started really fighting.  Caught on a big bunker head, he said he was the only one he saw up and down the beach catch anything worth keeping. It's a great feeling, when YOU are the one that everybody else sees catch a fish, when they aren't....

When he took it to the bait shop at the end of the day, it weighed 25.5 lbs., so it was probably around 27 pounds when he first caught it, as it was too big to fit in his cooler. It was the biggest fish he's ever caught, from the surf or anywhere.  A wonderful achievement.

And then, the next day, the guy fishing next to him brought in a striper every bit as nice as his.  Hopefully the schools of stripers will still be around in a month when I go up there for the weekend.

I forwarded his photo to our fishing buddies, and got a call from Mark.
"Dan, what are you doing this weekend?"
"Nothing, why?"
"Let's go to the river house for the night and fish the high tide tonight and tomorrow morning.  We need to catch a fish, too."
"Okay."
"High tide is at 8:45 tonight, and with the Super Moon this weekend, the fishing should be good."
"I'll meet you there around 7:30."
"See you then."

The "Super Moon" was this weekend.  The moon, at its "Perigee" was the closest it will be to the earth until 2029.  Appearing 14% larger, and 30% brighter, it would also affect tides... and fishing... we hoped. 

It was a beautiful evening on the river, even if the only thing biting was one skate that I caught, as well as 100,000,000 mosquitoes.  But there was always the morning tide.

The next day, we were back at it, and the fishing was still slow.  Mark finally hooked into a nice sized "horse' croaker, but that was it.  Then, of course, right when I had to leave, I brought in my rod and hooked a big cow nose ray.  This would be a good test for my equipment, I figured, so the fight was on.  The thing ran, and my reel started spooling.  Then it tired some, and I reeled it in.  It ran to the side and around the pier we were fishing, threatening to wrap and cut the line on the pilings.  I stayed a step ahead of it, keeping the line away from the pilings as the ray continued to run from side to side.  Mark got his net and waited for it to tire.  Finally after about 10 minutes, I was able to bring it to the dock where we were, and Mark netted it, scooping it up.  It was nice to see my equipment held up after a long winter, without having changed the line....

This 3 foot wide beast barely fit in the net.  Tonight we'll see how  it tastes.   When hooked, they like to run, and definitely test the drag on your reel, and your line test strength.  But this time, I won.  Schools of them were everywhere this morning, and I'm surprised we only hooked and caught the one.

The Cow Nose ray is overtaking the Chesapeake Bay, eating more crabs, oysters and shellfish than is healthy for the ecosystem of the bay; so there is an effort now to encourage people to catch and kill them when possible. And similarly to the Patagonian Tooth Fish (which is now called the Chilean Sea Bass, even though it is not from Chile, and definitely not a Bass), there has also been a name change to encourage people to eat them.  (The Patagonian Tooth Fish used to be considered a "trash fish", was discarded, and perceived to have no economic value.  Now it is a staple on many restaurant menus.  In fact, most of the time when you see "Sea Bass" on the menu, it is this, not the far superior "Black Sea Bass", which is native to the the waters around here, and known as "Black Gold" by the fishermen who catch them.)

Is there anything"Bass-like" about the Patagonian Toothfish, aka Chilean Sea Bass?  No, but it tastes better with that new name.  So, hopefully, will the Chesapeake Ray....

So, now the rays are seen on menus, as the "Chesapeake Ray", which sounds far more appetizing than a "cow nose".  As these rays are difficult to land, and more often break off (or I purposely break them off), however, this was my first chance to put them to the test.

I called up good friend, and chef-extraordinaire, Randy, and asked if he wanted me to bring him "Chesapeake Ray wings" to prepare for dinner.  He said, absolutely!  So we killed the ray, sliced off the wings, skinned them and put them in a bag on ice.  I delivered them to Randy, and we'll see how they taste tonight.

Meanwhile, I got a text message from Ted right as I'm going to church, and he just had to one up me, again.  "I caught one, too," was the message along with this photo.  But I'm thinking mine was a better fight, because I wasn't using heavy surf casting heavers and equipment.  So there.

Ted caught and landed a cow-nose ray, as well.  The difference between his ray and my "Chesapeake  Ray", is that I'm going to try eating mine tonight for dinner,after Randy prepares it.  It has a reddish-pink flesh, and is supposed to be similar to veal or flank steak in its texture (unlike skates, which have white, sweet, firm flesh, and can be prepared similarly to scallops.)  Anyway, we'll see how it fares for dinner.  I'll add a postscript later, if it doesn't kill me, as I'm sure if anyone can make it delicious, it's Randy.

So now, we head into the middle of May, when the inshore fishing should really start to pick up.  Hopefully that means I'll be able to get out on the water more, and have more fishing stories, too.  I look forward to my next entry -- and my postscript with the critique of the "Chesapeake Ray" dinner.  Until next time,

Fish ON!

Dan

POSTSCRIPT:  Okay, so here's the scoop on dinner being a "Chesapeake Ray".

As I mentioned, I gave the wing fillets to Randy yesterday, as he had an idea of how he wished to prepare them.  He did the following:

He brined it last night, soaking them in salt water and orange juice, to get rid of some of the blood and strong flavor.  Then he marinated them in milk during the day today. The fillets were then coated lightly with salt, pepper and House Autry seasoning and then sauteed in a thin layer of olive oil until golden brown.  Then he drizzled them with a homemade basil beurre-blanc and caper sauce, and placed them over eggwashed scalloped potatoes.  Spinach was the side vegetable, and (because it was a darker seafood, like salmon, tuna or blackened redfish) I brought a nice Pinot Noir to serve as the wine.  It was absolutely delicious, and I look forward to the next opportunity I have to eat another one.

So how about that!  The next Chilean Sea Bass has officially been created, I believe.  It's all in how you prepare it and "market" it.  Even my daughter (who two years ago, hated all seafood) ate hers and liked it, as did Randy's wife, who admitted ahead of time she was nervous about eating it.  And Randy's boys had second helpings, and even thirds -- as did Randy and me.

"Chesapeake Ray", marinated, lightly sauteed, and served on a  scalloped potato, with a  basil beurre-blanc and caper sauce.  Paired with a nice Pinot Noir, I would absolutely eat this meal again, and would highly recommend it to whoever catches a cow nose ray!

So save our crabs and oysters, and eat a cow nose, er, Chesapeake Ray, today.  Until next time, Eat ON!

APRIL IS AUTISM AWARENESS MONTH

The puzzle piece ribbon that symbolizes the puzzling disorder that is Autism.

And today, April 2, is Autism Awareness Day, or more specifically, World Autism Day.

I took my son Clayton down to the lake yesterday for a little Sunday afternoon fishing, and he caught this bluegill.  We also saw turtles, ducks, coots, geese and seagulls.  It was a beautiful Palm Sunday we enjoyed together....  I can only imagine what it would be like to spend a day with my son, should he one day be "cured"....

If you are able to do so, please contribute to any of the fine organizations that help fight this disorder.

Clayton smiling for the camera (for once!).  Unfortunately, the bluegill spun around so all you see is its belly.  We  let him go, and laughed as he swam off, back to its bed.  It was a beautiful day.

Some of the organizations that help fight autism, or help those that suffer from the Autism Spectrum Disorder are:  Autism Society of America; Autism Speaks:  Defeat Autism Now; National Autism Association; and there are numerous others, and there are even special schools for those afflicted -- perhaps even locally in your area.

In case you didn't hear last week, according to the CDC, the incidence of autism among boys is now 1 in 54!  ONE IN FIFTY-FOUR!    And overall, among children, it is now 1 in 88.  We must do something to stop this disorder.  Please contribute time, money, whatever you are able, to help these special people.  The children struggling with ASD today, are tomorrow's adults; and we MUST find a way to help cure this epidemic!  We certainly want to help them learn to be contributing members of society.  Early intervention is the key, because there is no cure!  And we still don't even know what causes it!

Every parent worries about what will happen to their child one day when they are gone.  What will they do?  Will they be okay?  Our society is simply not capable of handling all these children once they become adults -- and certainly if these statistics continue to worsen, they will just create a large burden on our society.

Please research whichever organization may be in your area, and be generous in your gift.  And let's help those people and those families that live with this everyday.  My prayer is that one day there is a solution to this problem -- a cure for all these kids, and of course, Clayton.

Thank you.

And until next time,

Fish on!

Dan