Wrightsville Beach, NC
Musings on the Water
My fishing license came in the mail yesterday. After leaving work today I headed straight to Motts Seafood for live bait. I was fishing before the license came.. but I was exceptionally excited about obtaining my very first fishing license! I was up last night checking out the tide tables, the NC Wild Life website, fishing sites, and so many fish-related sites, I can’t even begin to write them all down! I primarily was wanting to research how I could best catch flounder or drum off my dock or anything edible for that matter.
At Mott’s I purchased a grand total of 12 mud-minnows for about $7.50 and some change. I stopped by Wrightsville Beach’s LIghthouse Beer and Wine (I think that's the name) and purchased a 12 pack of Sierra Nevada in cans, they are much easier to lug than bottles and easier to recycle. In addition to the bait, I purchased a floater rig that reminded me of my childhood and fishin’ in Southport, along with a fancy-shmacy MirrOlure, which ends up NOT being a lure for dock fishing, but will look nice as some sort of fashion motif in my Hobbit Hole. I live in a 1938 beach cottage which is somewhat a historical beach house. I live in the basement apartment, which is prone to flooding, loud footfalls from upstairs, a variety of creatures that live below ground, and immense amount of humidity.
I came home, visited with landlady Miss Mimi and our neighbor Millie for a bit. They are fine Southern ladies. They called me "cute". It’s nice to be called “cute” at almost 48. After our afternoon chat I headed back to my Hobbit Hole to change into “fishing clothes”. I was supposed to work tonight, grading papers from California kids; some state testing hoopla. However, after the day I had teaching fishing seemed the most logical, sensible, and cathartic action. I was bit, yes teeth on flesh, today by a young, wiry little student. He had a melt-down, as we call it in the special education relax. In addition to being bitten, I was kicked, punched, and scratched. He was a little thing, but he packed a big wallop. He finally settled down, crawled in my lap whilst crying and said "I'm sorry Ms. Murphy, I love you."Self-care and well-being are priorities of mine. So, I gathered my fishing gear, itty-bitty minnows, and remaining fishing accoutrements and hunkered down on the dock to fish and quietly reflect on my day.
Thinking it was going to be reasonably warm and calm on the water, I wore a tank with a t-shirt over it, a skirt, flip-flops, and sans underwear. Once out on the rocking dock with the wind whipping at my face and skirt flying up in the air, I opted for additional clothing, underwear and a fleece jacket. I fished for several hours, lots of nibbles, but not a catch. Not one single, stinking fish was caught. By 9 o'clock I was ravenous and was hopeful that Big Al and His Folkstone Band were playing Bluegrass at Jimmy’s, a local bar on the beach. Much to my surprise the boys weren’t playing and after calling around to seek a partner in crime, I realized it was late and no one wanted to drive to the beach. I headed to Tower 7 and enjoyed my first chimichanga-solomente. Although I enjoyed the yummy grub, fishing was on my mind. Like an addict waiting for her next fix, I couldn’t wait to get back home and on the dock to fish again in the dark. So I set up camp on the dock again and again, no fish.
There is a difference between sport fishing and just "fishin". I do enjoying catching fish. I would really like to be able to catch what I eat daily and have the benefit of enjoying the sport as well. For now, I suppose I must settle on the "fishing", simply casting a line into the water, reeling it back in and casting it back out with no expectation of catching anything.
Tomorrow is another day. Perhaps the kiddo that bit me will have settled down some and has found new meaning from his experience. Perhaps tomorrow I will catch a fish or not. Either way, I am grateful for that little booger that bit me today for he was the impetus which reminded me to take care of myself and enjoy the little things… like throwing a line in the water and not worrying about whether or not anything gets reeled in. I am grateful for my new found source of serenity and "fishin".