What's Lost and What Wins

Yesterday, someone I know who works in the kitchen mentioned the Raritan River flooded in South Bound Brook. After that, I lusted greatly to get out the next morning to attempt striped bass. They move up and feed when water is high, but I feared it's too late in May for any showing. Maybe that's the case.

Before work again today, Matt and I rode through Manville, over the Wilhousky Street Bridge, and out past Zarephath to pull over along the canal near the Island Farm Weir. The river was plenty high, and after some walking, we found one other guy fishing along the concrete. Since I had seen Facebook postings of almost shoulder-to-shoulder conditions early in the month, I knew--on a Saturday--this didn't bode well for stripers present.

I've fished here at least once before, when the river was low, so I knew about the snags out there. The water's not very deep. I lost an expensive Bomber, tied on a large paddletail shad. After we fished nearly an hour, Matt snagged his Bomber and let me break it off by pulling 40-pound test Power Pro. Here it is many hours later, and I've never really felt the loss of more than $20.00 in lures I'll surely replace eventually. Guess that's more than a fourth of my take home pay today, but that doesn't matter. It would go without saying that to impose the petty order of "the real world" on...the world real enough it doesn't really need any "order"...would betray a lack of faith. And rationality. What's lost is gone.

But the morning Matt and I shared will remain with us always.