Amityville Horror? - The Final Chapter

As I was gnawing on one of the nice sandwiches Brian had packed for the trip, I decided to switch to my lighter inshore rod and try tossing a plastic swim shad lure like what I use at home in the Housatonic River.

We were about a quarter-mile up into the inlet and Brian was doing his best to position us so that we would drift back towards the mouth of the inlet in the swift outgoing current right along the rocky shoreline.

Fire Island Inlet

As I got ready for my first cast, the crank on my reel felt strange. I looked down and saw the crank shaft and handle contorted into a very abnormal position. On a boat not designed for fishing, there are no rod holders, so we were just leaning rods against whatever we could find. Obviously, my damaged reel had recently been the unfortunate victim of one of us stepping on the outstretched rod handle in the midst of landing a fish or trying to maintain balance. Ugh...I tried to bend it back into position, but, it'll never be the same again. Nonetheless, I made the best of it, and Mike and I tried in vain to find some more action in our new location.

After an hour or so, I suggested maybe we should try right in the mouth of the inlet. So we headed back and set up a few hundred yards from where the outgoing bay water meshed with the ocean causing some more of the bigger rolling waves that I wanted to now stay clear of. I went back to my 4oz diamond jig and cast it out along the edge of the rip as we drifted out in the current. Realizing we had never got Brian's rod set back up after we had cut the line during the tussle with my bluefish earlier, I offered to rig it back up for him. I decided to leave my jig in the water and let it drift along with us while I worked, and I loosened my drag and set my rod down leaning against the seats and over the gunwale in the front of the boat as I headed to the back of the boat.

As I re-ran the fishing line through the guides of Brian's rod, Mike suddenly said, "Hey, do you have your line in the water up there?" I said "Yea..." as I looked up towards the front of the boat. My rod had now jumped up onto the seat and was looking to make a suicide leap over the side. Brian sprinted to the bow and grabbed the butt of the rod just as it was heading over. I came right behind him and he handed it over to me. Whatdayaknow! A couple minutes later another 10-pound blue was in the boat!

With some renewed optimism, we moved the boat back into the mouth of the inlet to set up another drift and started chuckin' our jigs with some more fervor. Well, we drifted around the area for another 45 minutes or so with no additional bites. Brian was fishing and relaxing at the rear of the boat and I asked if it would be ok to maneuver the boat around for him for a while. His boat has some nice nautical GPS on it and I was carefully monitoring it to make sure we stayed in deep enough water so that we didn't get stuck up on one of the many sandbars that were now showing themselves in the low tide.

As I was studying the GPS, I noticed a couple of underwater "humps" on the map just to the immediate southeast of the inlet. Knowing that humps, or anyplace where there are sharp changes in depth, are many times good places to find fish,  I slowly drove the boat over and positioned us right over the spot. Then I had Mike cast over the side where the target location was as I held the boat in position. We were holding there for a minute or two when Brian came up from his spot at the rear, leaned his rod up against a seat and announced that he was done fishing for the day. He said I could head up alongside Mike and get some more casts in, and he dropped himself in the captain's seat. I eagerly grabbed my rod and Mike and I pitched our diamond jigs over to where we thought the humps were. The sun was getting low in the western sky and I figured we were enjoying our last few moments of what had already been a fairly eventful day.

Not eventful enough....

The enjoyment of those final minutes was abruptly interrupted by a heavy thud on the opposite side of the boat. Mike and I turned to see a huge channel marker up against the starboard side of the boat! We had drifted right into it as we all had our attention directed to the port side! Brian sprang to his feet as he blurted out some "Oh $^*#!!" expletives. From the rear of the cabin he reached out over the gunwale and used his arms to push the boat away from the marker as we drifted by. I noted big knots of barnacles on the outside of our foe as we past and winced to myself, "Oh man, that can't be good..."

We passed the marker and Brian popped upright. More expletives..."The side is all stratched up," he said. Then he leaned back over the gunwale again reaching down as far as he could to feel the damage. Once again I heard something unfit for print and he straightened upright again, "My phone just fell in!!" (another expletive). Brian had been popping his new iphone in and out of the breast pocket on his quilted flannel shirt all day as he kept plugged in to whatever was going on in the office. As he leaned over the side of the boat, his sleek new iphone had slid easily out to watery grave. And with it, went the many pictures he had been taking during the course of the day.

"That's it! I'm done!" he announced. "You guys done?" I said, "Yup, I guess we are now..."

It was generally a long and quiet ride back to the marina. I felt terrible that Brian had been nice enough to take us out and we were ending the day on such a bad note. Mike and I helped him wash down the boat and we closed her up. She has some pretty nasty bruises, but hopefully the marina can get her fixed up in time for next summer.

Fortunately, Brian had been texting some of our early day photos to his wife before his phone met its demise, and he forwarded them to Mike and I from her phone. One of them was my 14-pounder.

Anyway, I guess we didn't completely scare Brian away. He says he looks forward to doing it again "next year."

The big Stripers kept up their elusiveness, but we did catch some huge Blues. I don't know... was it really an Amityville Horror? You decide...

Until next time,
Jeff