Whenever folks ask me where I live, I adopt my best body-builder pose, arm curled tight, and point just below my wrist on the inside of my forearm. My anatomical reference is to Wellfleet, on outer Cape Cod. Everyone laughs, but the biggest cackles come from Michiganders because they know what it's like to chart geography on a body part. (Michigan is known as the Mitten because of its resemblance to the hand shoe.) But, then again, they may just find humor in the fact that I need to hit the gym and grunt out a few hundred more bicep curls.But no gym time for me now because it's fall on the Cape and that's fishing time. Vacation crowds leave in droves around Labor Day, and we anglers have the entire sandbar to ourselves. There are few vehicles waiting at red lights and beach parking lots are virtually empty (and non-permit parking is generally allowed). Vehicles with bike racks disappear and are replaced by rigs with rod racks. By Columbus Day, the restaurants are closed, and it becomes increasingly difficult to get a cup of coffee or some junk food to chow on in between midnight fishing trips.
Weather-wise, it’s been a cruel summer here in northern New England. This year, parts of Maine have measured their most precipitation ever. Back-to-back clear, sunny days have been few and far between; with the rain, river flows have been unfriendly to fly fishers. I can’t remember a summer
A simple-to-tie, but deadly effective, bass bug. In fact, one of the best bass bugs ever designed.
New York angler sets pending line-class fly-rod record with this massive weakfish.