Sad Starry….
SF
SF
Strange, weird or odd or whatever beach finds thread….
- Thread starter Stonedfish
- Start date
someone might have been, that stuff is apprently made out of strychnine
They lost it, or they lost it
That tube of pills, here's some backstory -
I fished the same beach two days in a row and day one a man rocked up with some gear rods, farm boots and jeans onto this very same beach. He started hucking a pink buzz bomb with 50 foot (not yards) casts in some of the least promising water (think zero tidal movement and where the floating seaweed goes to sink, all of it maybe three feet deep). He never said hello, nor waved, his gaze aversion game was strong. He fished maybe twenty or so casts before giving up and going to the second least promising part of the beach where the waters were shallower still. Think a fifty-foot stretch that in half an hour's tide drop the eelgrass would show. Every retrieve came back with an eelgrass biopsy. It's as though he worked particularly hard to avoid fishing any section of this beach that had tidal motion.
I didn't see how he got there because to walk in to this spot is a several mile stretch, worse still in muck boots. His pack was sort of a cube thing with rods sticking out like antennae, which had the effect of making him look a little like a WWII radioman, excepting the backpack thing was bigger, squarer, jet black and well obviously the jeans, longish hair and flannel shirt and trucker cap and muck boots didn't exactly look infantry. So maybe he didn't look like a radioman at all. The pack looked like something that could also convert into a seat. And carry beers. The sort of thing that will be on clearance in a seasonal aisle of a large box store any day now.
Maybe it carried all kinds of pharmaceuticals and herbal remedies.
Ninety minutes later a small boat with two other guys sitting low to waterline beached. One guy was carrying a bucket and looking very intently at the ground, I figured he was gathering stones or something. in retrospect I wonder if he was looking for the nux vomica. Maybe the bucket had already been vomited in and now was cleaned out. Anyway, no one was fishing at this point but me.
After a while the bucket, the backpack with the rods sticking up and the three guys were all back in the boat. A rain squall was coming in, the radar was flaring up orange and wet was looking inevitable. As these guys rounded the point there was potential for some swell/squall/tidal rip based disaster given a kayak wake would jeopardize their freeboard. No one wore life jackets. No one waved.
So working backwards, Jean guy was dumped on dry land for a long chunk of this excursion. Maybe because the freeboard was not so great with all three of them. Maybe because Jean guy was sick. It wasn't like the guys were palling around either, no one actually seemed to be enjoying what was an otherwise pretty awesome day.
It seemed a little like a "buster wants to fish" scenario. The boat guys were eager to get this guy on dry land as soon as he pulled out the pink buzz bomb. Maybe this was an even-year version of a coffee can full of worms?
I will concede that coho will smack a pink buzz bomb, but then again, the chances of getting that buzz bomb to fall into an open mouth of mobile coho within 50 feet of the beach over the sites already described is not zero, but was damn well close to it.
So that's my version of the nux vomica backstory, in detail. Except one small thing, the pills were found on day two, the slightly worse but still awesome fishing Day on account of too much sun, too still, glass but not seaglass, and other Stones style minor complaints.
I fished the same beach two days in a row and day one a man rocked up with some gear rods, farm boots and jeans onto this very same beach. He started hucking a pink buzz bomb with 50 foot (not yards) casts in some of the least promising water (think zero tidal movement and where the floating seaweed goes to sink, all of it maybe three feet deep). He never said hello, nor waved, his gaze aversion game was strong. He fished maybe twenty or so casts before giving up and going to the second least promising part of the beach where the waters were shallower still. Think a fifty-foot stretch that in half an hour's tide drop the eelgrass would show. Every retrieve came back with an eelgrass biopsy. It's as though he worked particularly hard to avoid fishing any section of this beach that had tidal motion.
I didn't see how he got there because to walk in to this spot is a several mile stretch, worse still in muck boots. His pack was sort of a cube thing with rods sticking out like antennae, which had the effect of making him look a little like a WWII radioman, excepting the backpack thing was bigger, squarer, jet black and well obviously the jeans, longish hair and flannel shirt and trucker cap and muck boots didn't exactly look infantry. So maybe he didn't look like a radioman at all. The pack looked like something that could also convert into a seat. And carry beers. The sort of thing that will be on clearance in a seasonal aisle of a large box store any day now.
Maybe it carried all kinds of pharmaceuticals and herbal remedies.
Ninety minutes later a small boat with two other guys sitting low to waterline beached. One guy was carrying a bucket and looking very intently at the ground, I figured he was gathering stones or something. in retrospect I wonder if he was looking for the nux vomica. Maybe the bucket had already been vomited in and now was cleaned out. Anyway, no one was fishing at this point but me.
After a while the bucket, the backpack with the rods sticking up and the three guys were all back in the boat. A rain squall was coming in, the radar was flaring up orange and wet was looking inevitable. As these guys rounded the point there was potential for some swell/squall/tidal rip based disaster given a kayak wake would jeopardize their freeboard. No one wore life jackets. No one waved.
So working backwards, Jean guy was dumped on dry land for a long chunk of this excursion. Maybe because the freeboard was not so great with all three of them. Maybe because Jean guy was sick. It wasn't like the guys were palling around either, no one actually seemed to be enjoying what was an otherwise pretty awesome day.
It seemed a little like a "buster wants to fish" scenario. The boat guys were eager to get this guy on dry land as soon as he pulled out the pink buzz bomb. Maybe this was an even-year version of a coffee can full of worms?
I will concede that coho will smack a pink buzz bomb, but then again, the chances of getting that buzz bomb to fall into an open mouth of mobile coho within 50 feet of the beach over the sites already described is not zero, but was damn well close to it.
So that's my version of the nux vomica backstory, in detail. Except one small thing, the pills were found on day two, the slightly worse but still awesome fishing Day on account of too much sun, too still, glass but not seaglass, and other Stones style minor complaints.
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