THE DERELICT ZONE
Some years ago an insurance salesman, a factory worker and myself left the river with two small stripers, about twenty inches legal back then, and a couple of big perch.
It was just another trip for Rick the factory guy, but the very first for Bill the insurance salesman. Little did he know that the series of events that were to change his life began to happen.
He was about to be cast into the Derelict Zone.
Bill and Rick didn’t catch anything that trip as it was near a full moon and the tide was ripping and high. I worked like hell to produce those four fish.
During the ride back to town Bill asked to borrow a rod and reel as he intended to try on his own the first thing the next morning. I obliged his request and we parted.
I didn’t know exactly where I heard the news first, but Bill went out that morning with a half dozen bloodworms, baited up that borrowed rig and made the cast. Sometime later he landed his first striper, 36 pounds of her.
Within a week Bill had a boat and motor, fully equipped. I don’t have any idea what kind of plans were interrupted for Bill’s family, but they were sure as hell changed that fateful morning.
An obsession, an addiction, a dereliction of sorts had instantly taken over Bill. I didn’t stay around the river too long, but whenever I was out, so was Bill. I lost touch with that gang, but I can’t help wonder how many stripers Bill has caught since then. The bottom line of this part of the story is short. Bill went to place inhabited by stripers large and small, put on a favorite food of the striper, and using good equipment he landed the big fish on the right tide and moon phase. The size of the fish is not a rarity up there, but catching one the first time out was.
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