wharfrat
Senior Member
A Fishing Tale from Sunbury
Michelle and I decided we would fish a trout tournament in Sunbury on Sat June 26th that helps support a girls youth dance group. We booked a room at a great B& B, just 5 minutes from the ramp. The place was called Dunham Farms (at Springfield Plantation). They are right on Dickinson Creek and you can take your boat to their dock if you chose to do so. I left early Fri morning at 0 dark thirty and headed to the gas station where it took 20 minutes for the clerk to figure out how to turn the pump on. By the time I left the station I was already getting sunburned. Not to worry, 38 miles to exit 76 and I’ll be fishing. At about mile marker 50 I noticed my bench seat cushion cart wheeling down the interstate as it sprouted wings and flew off. Again--not to worry, I just backed down the shoulder like a Wildman for about 500 yards where the cushion was lying in the center lane unharmed. As I got out of my trusty Exploder, much like a scene from a Chevy Chase flick, a semi toting a tandem rig obliterated my cushion. Aahhh, not to worry. I know one of the kids has left their ninja turtle towel in the truck, so I’ll sit on that. Was met with some pretty good wind so I found some lee around St. Catherine’s and finally found a couple of trout--two 17 inchers and a 16”. Nothing great, but I figured I was in some pretty solid stuff and I would come back to fish the whole area hard come tournament morning. Not to mention I didn’t get a bite any where else. So that night we met some great folks at the Captain’s meeting and had a great dinner at the Sunbury Crab Company.
Tournament morning! After staying up rigging late into the night, we came ready to throw all the hardware we had them. We like to fish artificials, so we rigged for every imaginable depth and color. When we got to the spot, we were met with the unmistakable screech of a pterodactyl. I know it was a pterodactyl because I had heard it many times watching Johnny Quest in my youth. A little shaken, we began to chunk and wind. The minutes became hours and it quickly became the land of a thousand casts. I guess between my cussing, crying, and praying, Michelle figured it was time to take action. We had donated plenty oh jigs as we were fishing some pretty serious structure. She demanded the 3’ natural gulp on a light jig head and quickly boated a 10 incher, a 17 incher and another short trout. My spirits jumped and we fished on. But it was not to be between the dirty water, alligator, dolphins, tarpon and the dang pterodactyl; I guess we were lucky to catch what we did. By the way, toads will happily eat an artificial bait while blues like only the back half of the bait. Final trout count, Michelle 3, Tim none. No surprise, as I found out that day that Michelle was the perfect partner who had no quit in her. Almost as sick as me! We decided to make a run and look for cleaner water. We did find a little honey hole that held some baby bull reds but knew we couldn’t stay on them. They ate zoom super flukes pinned on jig heads. So back to the weigh-in with our one keeper trout that was not gonna hold up in a three trout tournament with the quality of anglers in the tourney. Of course we had to go thru a pounding rain storm, which without the GPS we would have been in a world of hurt. There were some nice fish weighed from some darn good fisherman. Again, what a great bunch of people that fished the tournament as well as put it on (flipping).
So we went back to the Crab Company. Eating hot boiled shrimp and drinking ice cold beers, we began to lick our wounds, but when the band broke into the Stones Tumbling Dice and the Allman Bros Revival, I knew all was right with the world. The following morning our host fixed us some scrambled eggs, bacon and some awesome bread her mother had made. As Michelle was thanking our host in the kitchen I sat in my chair looking out over the creek thru the oak hammocks, reflecting on just how lucky I was to be able to do what I love with someone I love on such a beautiful coast……and then I heard it. The unmistakable screech of the pterodactyl….and a huge shadow that blotted out the sun for about 2 seconds and I raced to the window just in time to see two talons as big as pitchforks rising thru the oaks….and clutched them was what looked like a solid 5 lb trout.
Michelle and I decided we would fish a trout tournament in Sunbury on Sat June 26th that helps support a girls youth dance group. We booked a room at a great B& B, just 5 minutes from the ramp. The place was called Dunham Farms (at Springfield Plantation). They are right on Dickinson Creek and you can take your boat to their dock if you chose to do so. I left early Fri morning at 0 dark thirty and headed to the gas station where it took 20 minutes for the clerk to figure out how to turn the pump on. By the time I left the station I was already getting sunburned. Not to worry, 38 miles to exit 76 and I’ll be fishing. At about mile marker 50 I noticed my bench seat cushion cart wheeling down the interstate as it sprouted wings and flew off. Again--not to worry, I just backed down the shoulder like a Wildman for about 500 yards where the cushion was lying in the center lane unharmed. As I got out of my trusty Exploder, much like a scene from a Chevy Chase flick, a semi toting a tandem rig obliterated my cushion. Aahhh, not to worry. I know one of the kids has left their ninja turtle towel in the truck, so I’ll sit on that. Was met with some pretty good wind so I found some lee around St. Catherine’s and finally found a couple of trout--two 17 inchers and a 16”. Nothing great, but I figured I was in some pretty solid stuff and I would come back to fish the whole area hard come tournament morning. Not to mention I didn’t get a bite any where else. So that night we met some great folks at the Captain’s meeting and had a great dinner at the Sunbury Crab Company.
Tournament morning! After staying up rigging late into the night, we came ready to throw all the hardware we had them. We like to fish artificials, so we rigged for every imaginable depth and color. When we got to the spot, we were met with the unmistakable screech of a pterodactyl. I know it was a pterodactyl because I had heard it many times watching Johnny Quest in my youth. A little shaken, we began to chunk and wind. The minutes became hours and it quickly became the land of a thousand casts. I guess between my cussing, crying, and praying, Michelle figured it was time to take action. We had donated plenty oh jigs as we were fishing some pretty serious structure. She demanded the 3’ natural gulp on a light jig head and quickly boated a 10 incher, a 17 incher and another short trout. My spirits jumped and we fished on. But it was not to be between the dirty water, alligator, dolphins, tarpon and the dang pterodactyl; I guess we were lucky to catch what we did. By the way, toads will happily eat an artificial bait while blues like only the back half of the bait. Final trout count, Michelle 3, Tim none. No surprise, as I found out that day that Michelle was the perfect partner who had no quit in her. Almost as sick as me! We decided to make a run and look for cleaner water. We did find a little honey hole that held some baby bull reds but knew we couldn’t stay on them. They ate zoom super flukes pinned on jig heads. So back to the weigh-in with our one keeper trout that was not gonna hold up in a three trout tournament with the quality of anglers in the tourney. Of course we had to go thru a pounding rain storm, which without the GPS we would have been in a world of hurt. There were some nice fish weighed from some darn good fisherman. Again, what a great bunch of people that fished the tournament as well as put it on (flipping).
So we went back to the Crab Company. Eating hot boiled shrimp and drinking ice cold beers, we began to lick our wounds, but when the band broke into the Stones Tumbling Dice and the Allman Bros Revival, I knew all was right with the world. The following morning our host fixed us some scrambled eggs, bacon and some awesome bread her mother had made. As Michelle was thanking our host in the kitchen I sat in my chair looking out over the creek thru the oak hammocks, reflecting on just how lucky I was to be able to do what I love with someone I love on such a beautiful coast……and then I heard it. The unmistakable screech of the pterodactyl….and a huge shadow that blotted out the sun for about 2 seconds and I raced to the window just in time to see two talons as big as pitchforks rising thru the oaks….and clutched them was what looked like a solid 5 lb trout.
