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Fluke setups(rod and reels)


Woodrufflou

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Scrub' date=' you should have someone make you a custom rod with the characteristics you like.

[/quote']

 

Red, we doing another Fluke Charter this year bro? :rock:

Excellence, in anything, never occurs by chance

Achieving perfection is impossible. Striving for perfection makes greatness achievable
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I believe he did. (cough.....candy cane....cough).

 

:D

 

Ha, that thing is a freakin' Kris Kringle nightmare, isn't it? lol

Excellence, in anything, never occurs by chance

Achieving perfection is impossible. Striving for perfection makes greatness achievable
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Also must be cork I get a much better feel with cork' date=' I use a sealer and the cork last for years.

[/quote']

 

Hmmm, I may have to try that, Eddie, thanks for the tip!

Excellence, in anything, never occurs by chance

Achieving perfection is impossible. Striving for perfection makes greatness achievable
.

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"I paid for 6 hours not 10!!!"
LMAO!!!:D:D

 

That had to be the worst day on a boat for me.:down:

 

A little excerpt form TomD's thread on NJFishing.:D The thread was to good just to post an excerpt .

 

Long delay here in posting, as I’ve been recovering in my hospital room with traction apparatus and IV unit.

 

I had the terrific opportunity on Sunday to fish with some old buddies, along with The Man, The Myth, Captain JR Santos on the Out On A Limb. The crew included Scrubby (Craig), Red (Rich), Socks (Steve), Dave and Mike G, custom rod maker extraordinaire.

 

I pulled into the lot at Brown’s Point Marina at 5:30 am and the abuse started before I could even shut the door of my truck. Clearly, the gang was all wound up in anticipation of a hard day of fishing, abuse and comraderie. We quickly loaded our gear onto the 33 World Cat and began to make our way into the bay, enroute to a showdown with the flatties.

 

We were quickly greeted in the bay with steady 4 and 5 footers and it didn’t take long to recognize we were in for an adventure. The crew jokingly commented on the snottiness of the conditions, each of us doing our best to conceal our real anxiety over what it would be like “out there.” As we grew nearer the Hook, the seas continued to grow, and I for one was extremely relieved to be aboard the Land Rover of the Sea.

 

We entered the Rip in 6 to 8 foot seas and immediately had our first man down. One of the more effeminate of the crew (begins with C, rhymes with egg ) ended up flat on his ass and quickly decided to remain pinned and quivering against the transom. As the OOAL slashed and cut across the tightly-packed seas our dauntless captain stood Ahab-like, intent upon rooting out his ocean nemesis.

 

With the acrid smell of Estrogen permeating the cockpit and the high-pitched sounds of whining from certain quarters, we laughed off our concerns by asserting how much more courageous we were than certain of our other friends who could not be there fishing with us (sorry Cry Baby Lou and Bobble Head ). We also observed that Lefteye, the gentle giant, was capable of fishing this single-handedly in his 17 foot Whaler. It was about this time, as we exited the Rip to more comfortable 5s and 6s, that casualty number two (starts with R and rhymes with dead ) hit the deck and was out for the count. His rod would not once leave the holder until we returned to the dock 9 hours later.

 

We got to our first drop in nice, calm 5 foot seas and found that we could, surprisingly, generally hold with 6 to 8 ounces. We all had a nice shade of green across our faces and we bucktailed quietly, serenaded by the guttural moans and groans eminating from casualty number two. We pulled a number of shorts before beginning a slow pick of keepers, repeating several drifts and moving here and there to find a consistent bite.

 

We slowly grew accustomed to the churn and I grew confident that I was out of the woods. That’s when Evil Craig began to perform his trademark vomit dance . His faux convulsing, complete with realistic sound effects, was more than my weakened mind and body could take. The chum began to flow…….and flow, and flow some more :o. I subsequently learned that I was the second person to succumb to this evil routine (right Bobblehead ). After shedding the burden of my nausea - and my breakfast - the act of fishing became more enjoyable, at least as long as I kept eyes on the horizon and didn’t try focusing on much of anything else.

 

We ran all over creation to find the hungry fish. We swung and missed a lot (right Socks lol) and caught a lot of Dogfish (Mike, was that a special rod?) We also managed to put a bunch of meat in the box, ending the day with 23 nice keeper flatties and a couple of keeper biscuits.

 

After arriving back at the dock following the seemingly longest fishing day of my life, I was rewarded for my pukey behavior by being allowed to engage in my favorite post-fishing activity – fish cutting! That alone made it all worthwhile .

 

By the time I got home I was near comatose and felt like I’d gone the distance with Mike Tyson. I also felt like the luckiest guy in the world for having had the opportunity to spend the day as I had. This trip will not be soon forgotten and was another reminder of how Captain JR has earned his reputation as a fish catcher par excellence. I CAN’T WAIT to get out with all you madmen again!

 

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