Surf Casting

Aquarium
_Mom : Anne, did you give fresh water to the goldfish ?
_Anne : Hem.. No, it has not finished the water I gave last month...
_...?!@!!!...

Right side.
_When you catch a sea bass, did you remark which side bears more fins ?
_No ?
_The outside.

Pollution
All the Anglers and fishermen know that, at the river Seine Mouth, the fishes are loaded with heavy metals.
Some believe they have found a trick : Once caught, they hang the fish by the tail on a clothesline. The mercury, lead and other cadmiums are supposed to drop down to the head.
They cut the head and cook the rest of the fish !

Bon appétit.

What do we eat ?
_Where are you going Honey ?
_Fly fishing !
_Eeh...well..euhhhh...one point : I don't know how to cook flies.

What is a good fishing spot ?
It is a place where the fish succeed to get a lot of Anglers together ...

Speed
Q : At what speed is it necessary to swim when you are followed by a shark?
A : More quickly than your colleague.

Legal ?
In a Breton river mouth, an old fisherman always brought back fish whereas nobody had fished anything for one month. To the coastguard who asked him the question, it answered: "Come with me on Saturday and I'll show you". On Saturday morning, the guard come on board with the pensioner. After 1 mile , the old man opened his bag and lit a stick dynamite. The guard looked at him with opened wide eyes whereas he launched dynamite at 20 fathoms.
" It is fordidden! " exclaimed the guard, looking at the fisherman collecting the fish with his landing net.
" Did you never fish like that? " asked the old man.
" Fortunately, never! ".
Our fisherman lights a second stick of dynamite and puts it in the guard's hands : " Now, tell me that you will not fish with dynamite! ".

In winter
One winter close to Dunkirk, Jean-Louis and Pascal, two friends decide to go fishing cod. Temperature -5°C, wind from N.O, warm clothing and thermos flask of coffee will help them spend the night. As usual, they settle at some distance one of the other. After a while, Jean-Louis landed two cods; Pascal asks him: " What are you fishing with? "
" weee waaa aeeiiooaa" answers Jean-Louis.
Pascal does not insist, putting his incomprehension on the account of cold and wind. A third landed cod (of beautiful size that one!) put the doubt in the spirit of Pascal : " What are you fishing with, Jean-Louis? "
" weee waaa aeeiiooaa " answers Jean-Louis.
At this time, Pascal felt the doubt growing...he insisted: " I don't understand anything, Jean-Louis; with what? "
Jean-Louis, ragor, spits in his hands and shouts : " With warm arenicolas! "..

Silent night ?
One night of June 2000, I tracked, solitary, the bass on a Normandy pebble beach. The moon, though pale this night there, clarified sufficiently the landscape of a bluish contrast so that I did not test the need to switch on my headlamp.

Hands deep in my pockets, I breathed the softness of the air during the three minutes which separate the cast from the first bites. The pout catches followed one another, God didn't get me the chance to see a Master Labrax tail.. For the umpteenth time I looked at the Great Bear disappearing behind the cloudy scraps.

I settled in a small routine which made me cast my two lines every fifteen minutes. Not a noise, a light sea breeze refreshed my face, while the deck lights of the trawlers and "netlers" flickered off shore. The calm sea, rolled down to my feet the almost quiet discrete waves.

As often, with the approach of the slack, the bites were done rarer. I took this opportunity to enjoy a burning coffee from my thermos flask. The jagged baits revealed the presence of crabs. I planned to replace my arenicolas by strips of cuttlefish. Let me first finish my coffee..

I was tired to seek a horizontal position for my boots, on rollers definitely always so badly arranged with each tide. I thus planned to move me few meters on my left where I had seen a remainder of nets or bottom of torn trawl or a ground sheet that the lighting of the moon did not enable me to distinguish well. But which appeared to me in any case softer than the rollers on which I was curling up my toes at the bottom of my left boot, and curved me the arch of the right foot.

To check that the position concerned was comfortable, I took a step in direction of the heap of nets when a bite recalled me with the command things: fishing first. After having slackened a twentieth pout smaller than a hand and re-baited my line, I cast blind again, with a more furious than effective pendulum. The waiting position began again...

I heard a noise of rollers which one moves slightly. As that seemed to come from the heap of nets on my left, I turned to what seemed to be the source for it: nothing. My spirit roved.

The small roller noise was repeated whereas I turned over towards my rods... I decided to clear the matter up and took a step in direction of the net: nothing, a field mouse undoubtedly. (I remembered to have found some under my fishing bag at the time of the preceding tide, attracted by the baits I thought.)

While I considered the displacement of the rod holders in direction of the heap of net where I will find a more stable base; again, the small discrete noise of a roller which one rubs decided me to light my lamp to clear the matter up. I carried my hand to the lens of my headlamp to make it make the usual quarter of turn which will bring a supplement of light to me...

I did not get time to see clearly, nor to take a step back. A Gévaudan medieval beast of 60kg jumped to my face and projected me on my back in the rollers. I saw my unquestionable death in the darkness of the strand, cut the throat of by a reminiscence of my childish readings! For the only time of my life I had doubts about the resistance of my heart containing with sorrow the explosive beats! Feeling this noisy breath on my face.

This fright was transformed very quickly into choking heat when blood recovered to circulate in my veins, activated by happiness to feel my face licked by what was not different than a king size sheepdog happy to find a companion by this solitary night! Always laying on the back, I choked under the blows of tongue of the large doggie, obviously inoffensive and playful, I pained to get up on still shaking legs.

And, say, I was guessing for twenty long minutes in connection with this heap of nets! Who, itself, were to wonder well when I was going to decide to play with her! I removed my "licked" glasses to rinse them with sea water, and buried a still trembling hand in her thick fur to reassure me..

The night passed, and I preserved an anxious eye on my new companion who did not leave me sole. At dawn, I return from casting a line, it had been gone from there without more ceremony. Useless to say to you that I do not remember any more very well if I took much fish this night there... but I have a deeply engraved memory of it!