Catching fish, but better yet, memories

Published: Wednesday, September 26, 2012 at 17:34 PM.

Naturally as brothers, we joke each other and talk about who is Mom’s favorite, even though they both realize it’s me. We give each other a hard time, whether it’s about our age, our weight, our favorite sports teams, and of course, our fishing.

After all, we did go to Cape Lookout to catch fish, and we did do a little of that. We used to compete playing football and in other more athletic ventures. Now in our advancing age — we’re in our middle to late 40s — it’s come down to fishing.

Competition is in three categories — first fish, biggest fish and most fish. On this trip to Cape Lookout, my younger brother Rick caught the first fish (he cheated), the biggest fish (he cheated), and the most fish (he cheated again).

He hooked into a bluefish within the first 15 minutes of our arrival. I followed shortly thereafter with a gray trout and then a blue of my own. My older brother Mike then hooked one, and we seemingly thought we were in store for a major run of fish.

But the fishing shut down, and we decided we would ride some of Lookout’s 5-foot, curling waves instead.

That evening, we did a little more fishing, but most of it was spent discussing the pheasant we had seen while driving on Lookout’s sandy shores, eating burgers and other assorted items, drinking a few beers and telling jokes. Basically, being brothers.

That night, the mosquitoes and gnats in our Cape Lookout cabin were a bit more than I could take. I woke up early after about four hours of sleep, grabbed my beach chair and walked about 30 yards down to the shore. I watched as the sun poked its head over the horizon and then decided the time was right to appear in full.



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