The smell of the ocean

One couldn't ask for fishier weather

I have stood in the brine and it smells of skunk.

My first fly rod outing for Stripers was a good primer on tactics and tackle courtesy of my buddy Jon but it was fishless courtesy of half-million Striped Bass that decided to be elsewhere.

Well, that isn't exactly true, we did see a handful of bass caught, mostly by guys chucking hardware and I did get a few violent, fishy tugs on the line, but nothing hooked up and nothing got to the net.

None of that, however, has prevented me from being fully enamored with this new dimension of the sport. It is the antithesis of trout fishing and it has some appeal. There's nothing stealthy or delicate about casting a six inch fly sixty feet and it is a joy!

I've often found trout fishing relaxing due to my zen like approach. Mostly I'm fishing small streams and I'm being the uncarved block -- seeking quiet and simplicity and the interaction with all aspects of the nature of the thing (and hopefully catching a fish or two).

Fishing the salt is full contact. It's mixed martial arts vs yoga. Much fun.

I'm not throwing away my 4wt rods anytime soon but I am pining for a return to the salt. The call of the deep has been heard.