Bedminster is notorious for the golf course. Other than that, I feel it's a really good town. I even had a better opinion of Trump, before he ran for a job he couldn't do. But now that I know of serious criminal evidence against him come to light, I think at least his becoming President might mean a bust and jail time for him afterwards.
We never mentioned a word about him fishing today, though conversation ranged over numerous topics. Andy Beck has spent a lot of time on Long Beach Island, too. I lived there for 13 years, but today I didn't recall the names of bars he reminded me of. And now I remember the name of the big one in Bay Village--The Tide. We both had forgotten.
His first time fishing, I showed him how to cast, verbalizing each detail, and felt amazed at the distance and accuracy of his first. From then on, he had no trouble fishing a Champers, though he didn't get the worm on any bass.
I caught a little largemouth.
After not very long, I suggested we move to the right towards some little pads. In past years, weedbeds have existed where apparently the heavy rain thinned them, although water clarity today was good. Experience at casting worms is like the machine artificial intelligence my son is becoming expert at creating and doing. Of course it is, because experience at casting worms, so long as intelligently practiced, is an example of living intelligence. Every cast done by conscious intent is registered in the brain's computer and alters the program, which further suggests why each and every cast counts. The result is what some people call instinct, but I call intuition. For example, the ability to put a worm directly where it needs to go in order to score on the first cast to a new spot. That has some but relatively little to do with external senses. It's about the brain's intelligence producing a best guess. My approach to the pads today is a case in point. My first three casts failed--nothing took the worm. And the fourth cast resulted in a big bass leaving a big surface boil after the worm sailed over the fish closely. The worm needed to touch down a foot in front of where that bass lay.
I distinctly felt my guesses were off. They were off.
We moved even further to the right and more pads, nothing happening there, when it was about time to go home. I would fish two spots along the steep bank where tree trunks and brush in the water hold bass. I understood Andy would not want to slip down the high, steep dirt and gravel, and I haven't yet checked for ticks. Before I got to water edge, I cast to make sure no bass lay directly in front that would spook. Then I got into position to put a Chompers directly on the edge of a bush in the water. Underneath that edge, water must be at least four feet deep. I let the worm sink and settle. Then I brought it up, over weeds (rigged with an inset hook), and let it drop at the edge of the weeds and sink.
Andy kept talking. I listened closely, interjecting words. A minute or more passed when I was not in focus. That worm was in perfect position for a take, and I did not give the situation the respect it needed.
Always, always lift the rod tip carefully to feel if a bass is on, and if you feel the resistance and slight tug that indicates a fish is on, set the hook! Hard! Instead, I just lifted on the rod and thought the worm had weeds on it. Until I felt tugging. My rod, already lifted high, could not set the hook. The bass surfaced and I saw how wide its body; it looked like a beautiful 18-incher. And then it came off the hook.
So I struck out twice. Especially the second time. A lack of awareness on my part resulted in loss. And it didn't feel good.
Even so, better a bass was on than none at all. And on the whole, it was an excellent day on the water with a friend who is soon moving to Texas.
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