Where the Speechless Unite in a Silent Accord

I hope the three of you who regularly visit my fishing blog will forgive three months of silence.

My last fishing trip was on Tuesday, August 6, 2013 on the Hudson River in Riverdale. Fortunately, I was smart enough to take detailed notes.

I decided to go fishing that particular day on the advice of In-Fisherman's solunar calendar, which forecast excellent fishing for August 6.

In a previous post, I wrote about my frustrations with fishing in August. I am pleased to report that I finally caught an "August fish."

According to my notes, I started fishing at 10:45 AM. I picked the first area on the promenade instead of my usual one. It was sunny, warm, but with no wind.

I began with two lines in the water. At 11:10 AM, I reeled in a 17-inch striped bass. I was overjoyed, not only because I finally caught an "August fish" but because it was also a large one. As is my custom, I thanked God for delivering it and soon released it.

At 11:25, I had a third line in the water. Using three rods in such a small space can result in the lines getting tangled. So I have to make sure I cast them far apart. If there is a moderate wind, I then use only two lines in Riverdale.

The fish were certainly active. In a 20-minute span (11:45 to 12:05), I experienced a number of hits, including a big one, but I failed to hook anything.

As the day went on, the weather began to change. The clouds moved in and eventually blocked out the sun. It also cooled quite noticeably. The tide was also receding.

I changed the bait frequently and recast my lines. Unfortunately, I couldn't catch anything else. Happy that I caught something and something large, I went home around 1:45 PM.

And If There Is No Room Upon the Hill

   Another day, another belated post.

   Nearly a week ago, on June 6--the anniversary of the D-Day invasion--I returned to Hudson Park in New Rochelle. I got up there in the mid-morning to take advantage of the solunar calendar's recommendation for the day. I had wanted to try Alpine again, but, with the usual traffic on the Cross Bronx Expressway, I didn't think I would arrive on time.

   The day was another disappointment. In about two hours of fishing, I had only one bite. I made another early exit by noon or so. After I packed up, I went over to this nice black lady who was fishing not too far from me. She said she had no luck either.

    I guess the fish were on vacation.

On the Turning Away From the Pale and Downtrodden

Tonight, I'm gonna take that ride
Across the river to the Jersey side

--Bruce Springsteen, "Jersey Girl"

   Yesterday (May 1), I left New York for the first time in over a decade to fish. I didn't go far. I decided to test the waters of the Hudson River on the New Jersey side.

   I took two fresh bunker and about two dozen bloodworms. After crossing the George Washington Bridge, I made a right on the Fort Lee Exit and drove up to the Palisades Interstate Park. I picked the Alpine Picnic Area, which is opposite Yonkers, New York. The place (at least the long and winding road to the picnic area) is beautiful and used by numerous bicyclists and hikers. I didn't see anyone else fishing. I picked one of the benches behind the wall. The area where I fished was dirty and muddy. Several state park buildings and nearby docks still had Hurricane Sandy Storm Damage. As I understand, as the summer approaches, there will be a $5 parking fee.

   By around 3:10 PM, I had my two lines in the water, one with a bloodworm and the other with a piece of fresh bunker. The solunar calendar was once again vindicated, although I didn't catch anything. I did, however, have a number of hits with the bloodworms. In fact, since I've had no luck with fresh bunker recently, I switched the second line to bloodworms as well.

   It was sunny with a slight breeze. The rocks in the water evoked painful memories of the Croton Point Park Disaster of 2009, where practically every cast got snagged on a rock. This time, my lines got caught only three times. It's always a nuisance to attach new fish finders with a sinker and tie a got knot on the snap swivel. But it really doesn't take that long.

   I passed the time--as I frequently do--with my pipe and my iPod. I went through my chronological "Bruce Springsteen Favorites" playlist, appropriately starting with the tracks from The River (1980).

   Despite a few hits, I couldn't catch anything. Still, I enjoyed myself, and I'm glad I found another spot. I will definitely return here soon.

   It's great to be back.

Coming Back to Life

Today (April 30), I made my second visit to Hudson Park in New Rochelle. I just took one dozen bloodworms and intended to stay for about two hours. When I planned my trip, I not only took note of high tide but also made use of In-Fisherman's online solunar calendar. It reported a "Major Moon Period"--when the moon would be overhead or underfoot--between 3:26 PM and 5:26 PM. Many fishermen have long believed that various phases of the moon affect the feeding patterns of fish.

By 3:15 PM, I had two lines in the water. After the traumatic and once-in-a-lifetime incident I experienced last week, which resulted in my oldest and favorite fishing rod go missing, I was a little overly cautious. I was on the lookout for birds and was extra careful to make sure my poles wouldn't fall into the water below. The sun was shining brightly, and there was a slight wind. It felt much colder than the reported 65 degrees.

I had no action in the first hour. I eventually got one hit, but I didn't hook anything. Whatever it was, it just nibbled at the bait. The bite gave me hope that I might catch something here for the first time in years. As I waited, I passed the time listening to my iPod and smoking my pipe. I went through my "Country" playlist. Marty Robbins' classic cover of the old Western ballad, "The Streets of Laredo," is a personal favorite. I listen to the song quite frequently, perhaps because I tend to identify with the dying, repentant cowboy in the song who comes to the harsh realization that he alone is responsible for his own tragic plight and sad exit. No doubt, "The Streets of Laredo," is a sad song, but it also conveys hope through personal redemption and the cowboy's struggle to maintain his dignity in his final minutes by seeking companionship with a passerby, some cool water to quench his thirst, and a request for a solemn funeral after he "goes to his Maker."

In the second hour, I reeled in one line to check the bait. I immediately noticed that the line was heavy. Since I was able to reel it in--without a fight--I obviously didn't get it caught on an underwater rock. Did I catch some garbage? When I pulled up the line, I saw that I caught a flounder--my very first. I was thrilled. It measured about 14 inches. A fellow fisherman nearby me congratulated me. Since it was really sunny, I wasn't able to get a clear picture. I cut it loose and returned it to the water.

I gave up around 5:30. We'll see what the month of May brings.