This ain’t really about fishing…
I’ve preached it a few times, but it rang so true to me on a random Wednesday morning. When the
going gets tough, the tough go fishing. I’ve got my pride and I won’t go into why my feelings and
body and heart hurt so much that morning. All I could think about was that 12 foot Century Rod out
there and waiting for me to use it. The 144L Slingshot series can boost any girls self esteem – cast that
sucker a mile and reel it back in, and BOOM. You feel better. The Diawa Saltist Pro reel I have attached to it is a princess’s dream and it caters to my fishing pleasure. Push the button and the planetary reel positions itself for your mission.
Not that it mattered much to me, but I didn’t catch any fish and the trip was a complete wash. I dropped
my phone overboard, lost all the tackle I bought and had to cut a considerable amount of my braided
line (I knew there were mullet, so I geared myself up with a sinker and a bottom rig as if I was gonna catch sea mullet on Hatteras beaches). Still, I had one of the best days ever. Sunshine was sweet and the cars going by on the Leechville bridge seemed to like my effort. I smiled and waved and for once in a long time, I was in my element. Even better, I realized I was throwing my rig across the Beaufort and Hyde County line each time. It didn’t matter that I hung myself in a tree or on the bottom debris. I could cast like a pro and span county lines while I did it. Therapy may work for some, but it doesn’t hold a candle to throwing a Century Rod and surprising yourself each time.
A few days passed and thinking about that Century Rod - how I knew just how to work it and the fact
it was inscribed with Megpie - made me feel like I did have a bit of stregnth. Soon, I would gather every ounce of that stregnth and look for more during a tour of the land I love. Coastal Carolina.
I have friends in the most peculiar places around here and I love it. First I spent some time on the Pamlico River with some locals that told me the bottom rig was not the way to go when fishing in the river. O well. The boat ride was nice.
My next order of business was to connect with some of the shrimping boys Down East. I don’t know many folks down that way, but after talking to a few, I realized my reputation as a commercial fishing advocate preceded me. Megan Shaw was a familiar name to them. Again, I found strength. And enough fresh brown shrimp to eat for days.
Stregnth is something mermaids are known for. I smiled as I reminded a Core Sound captain (whom I’ve known for a while) that each time I get near his boat – almost to where he could net me up – he quits catching. It wasn’t long before he ran off and I didn’t hear a thing from him. I found out the next day his wooden Gillikin trawler had to be put on the railways. Oops. I’m hoping he’s not really that superstitious and will soon return my calls.
A landscape and town much like Swan Quarter - where everyone waves and there’s trawl boats and a ferry terminal and plenty of marsh islands - Stacy felt like a second home to me. It proved to be welcome comfort food for my peace of mind.
On the ferry leaving Cedar Island, the ferry boat captain kindly steered around a nasty storm system, but when we got near Ocracoke, he rubbed her belly pretty good. I couldn’t help but think it was the mermaid in me that willed it so. I was the last one off the boat and the crew all waved real hard and smiled big. I had spent much of the trip sunning on the deck of the DOT’s newest Sound Class Ferry Sea Level. I wonder if they knew I’d been invited to her christening ceremony or that my name was on all the No Ferry Tax signs.
Ocracoke is quite the haven for a mermaid like me and I know it. So I smiled and shed a happy tear as I
passed on through and resisted the urge to stay a while. Pirates are quite convincing, but I had to get to
Hatteras because there was work to be done.
Again, the ferry boat captain rubbed Stanford White’s boats belly en route to Hatteras. I kind of felt like I was part of a magic trick as I saw a few of our charter vessels navigate carefully alongside ferry traffic in the sketchy Rollinson’s Channel. The shoaling in this federally-dredged channel is just unreal. Them dingbatters didn’t know it but we ran aground again a few times.
Mermaids were on the brain throughout the trip, I suppose, because it was around this time of year that I always connected with my best kindred mermaid spirit ever. As I got off the ferry, I realized it had been 12 years to the day since my first best friend Blair left this world. Passing by all the places where we used to play was emotional. But, I smiled knowing I got to have Hatteras all to myself once upon a time, thanks to Blair. She showed me the magical side of the island.
My idea was to work at Hatteras Jack Tackle Shop, selling tackle to tourists while crafting the Mile Out Newsletter. But, another door opened and it looks like I may be back on the scene with a fishing report from all over the country and in Mexico. I got the chance to do some exploring in the world of Century Rods - the blanks, sizes, casting ratio and the enigma that comes with the newest product of it’s kind here in the USA. I even got to network with the Advanced Fishing USA Pro Staffers. And I thought I was just gonna spend some nights in Rodanthe.
On my way home to Swan Quarter, I stopped at the New Inlet, just north of Rodanthe. I hadn’t checked it out since it was formed by Hurricane Irene. I didn’t have my Century (they‘ve been catching the hell outta flounder and puppy drum), so I was more interested in beach treasures blown in from the last night’s storm.
Strapless sundress blowing in the southwest breeze, I shifted past the stupid bird closures and realized I’d forgotten my hair tie. Blowing hair can be such a bother.
Almost as if my wish were granted, I looked down and found a perfectly salty, black hair tie. Laughing out loud at the coincidence, I pulled my hair pulled back outta my face and gave thanks for the small blessing that reminded me of Blair (she always had something for the hair-in-the-face dilemma). Imagine my surprise when I found another, and another, and another! A few steps later, I found a salvageable pair of Hollywood sunglasses. Then a polarized name-brand pair. Treasures didn’t stop, either. In addition to nearly a dozen hair ties, I found a hemp bracelet, a leather “creation” bracelett, another pair of sunglasses, a GI Joe man, a beaded bracelet and lots and lots of jack knife shells (we used to pretend they were our fingernails).
Strength comes in the strangest forms - and my little trip proved that to me. Still, Swan Quarter is always where my heart is and it was so wonderful to get home. Coming back this time was different, though. I was a new person. Na. Scratch that. I was Megpie again. All the way. Armed with plenty of hair ties and an army man, I was back in the swampy village that made me who I am . Here, I’ll rest and reflect and soak up all the strength around me. The welcoming arms sure do feel good.
With a mermaid’s luck (and charm), I’ll be bringing my Century Rod back to Rodanthe next time….
