I suspect that at 9:45pm last night many of you were either watching MNF or getting ready for bed. Me? I was pulling out of my garage to go striper fishing in Rhode Island.

Used to be that fall meant many long nights spent banging around the beaches, breachways, and salt ponds of the Ocean State. Sadly, the state of the striper stocks have reduced that autumn fishery to a shell of its former self. Nonetheless, needs must go, if only to remember the glorious nights of yore when the surface of my thumb was reduced to shredded flesh.

“Steve, can you get me on the hook? For old times’ sake.” Can do, Sally.

I fished two marks. The first was a skinny water flat where I used a three fly team (Orange Ruthless, small PB bucktail, Morning Glory) and wet fly tactics. The flat was loaded with silversides, and although I heard a few pops, I was only able to manage a couple of touches. The lack of sharpness on the hits led me to believe that dink stripers were the culprit.

Off to Spot B, an area with an elevated perch and nearby incandescent lights. Peanut bunker and mullet in the bait mix. Now well after 1am, I was just about to call it when I heard some mischief and saw a pod of six school bass harassing bait down current. I made a cast, didn’t like it, and as I was pulling my rig out of the water one of the bass struck. The upshot was a miss, but those fish were there to eat, and on the next cast I connected with a double on the PB and the Morning Glory.

And so a happy and tired me crawled into bed just after 3am.

Not from last night, but a good likeness of my customers.