Wolfsnare

I was lucky enough to get on the water several times last Fall. With school, it’s hit or miss as to if I’ll be able to do that. It worked, out and on more than one occasion I put a few bends in the rod.

Warm temps made cracking one open a hard thing to pass up

I was also lucky enough to have a good friend/classmate who let me spend some time on her boat. She’s a local and shared a few special spots. I’m incredibly grateful to her. Additionally, I spent a few hours out on the kayak and at other times, drifted the tides on an inflatable SUP (it worked surprisingly well).

This Fall, Va Beach and it’s surroundings provided some solid speck fishing. Around these parts, sinking lines, and clousers worked pretty well for me. I’m sure they’re other approaches, but my simple, one-track mind played sinking line and clousers over and over again. At times you could entice the specks to a tasty looking pseudo-snack every cast. Other times it was a little slower, but the skunked count presented itself less often than usual.

Of the many rivers, creeks, and streams I fished, Wolfsnare for sure took top honors for coolest name. It also produced well, but more importantly, it sounds cool. What is a Wolfsnare? It’s a plantation house. Yeah, but what is a Wolfsnare? I don’t fucking know. The basic Google search didn’t give me much. Besides the plantation, which takes us back to a different time with different beliefs and different values – some of which I certainly don’t support – Wolfsnare is a cool sounding word none-the-less.

Past that digression, the reds alluded me this Fall. Like most anyone who fishes, I like red fish. I like to catch them. I like to dream about them. I like to look at them. One reason why I like them so much probably has to do with how often they don’t bite my damn fly. They’re pretty too. Hence, the looking.

#art

Lots of folks fished the same waters, around the same time, and landed quite a  few of them. I’m happy for them. Real happy. Fuckers. Hopefully next Fall will be different. There’s always hope.

Even though I was redless, the Fall fishing was great. I explored a lot of new areas. I spent time on the water with some great folks. Death by drowning, snake bite, hook to the jugular veins, or overdosing on sunscreen all stayed far away from me and my company. A successful season on tidal waters? Hell, yeah!

Anti-sun? No. Anti-skin cancer? Yes.

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Charleston and Folly Beach, SC 8/21-28/2015

The idea for this trip began in the Spring time. We originally thought about a Fall trout trip to West Virginia with the banjos and all. JB quickly replaced this idea with, “let’s go for something a little different”. The other members of the group liked the sound of the trout venture better than the yet-to-be-made-known trip elsewhere. Soon however, all doubts rested in a quiet, calm, place somewhere far beyond conscious thought. JB brought to our attention the late summer redfish action on the South East coast. Specifically, the area around the first shot of the civil war city, Charleston, South Carolina. We collectively came to an agreement: to Charleston! So, now you know the background.

Washout Wheat, from Holy City Brewing. This number specifically refers to the bachelorette party destination of Folly Beach

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