A Striper for Papa

Being a 1950-60 striper addict with a beach buggy (and with 2016 ambulatory issues), the following essay is from a grandfather’s heart and from Bourne Oaks Retirement Community for older people with small dogs and a bingo habit.

The community is 30 minutes from my Marion family – Steve, Dyan, Emma and Ben. Our son and 11-year-old grandson caught and released a few schoolie bass keepers during Ben’s 2016 summer vacation.

            Would it be possible to release a striper for the elder’s dinner table?

On October 20, 2016, with October winding down, there was still no striper dinner complete with bacon, lemon slices, hash browns and pickled beets for the neighboring bingo family. While most Cape anglers have stored their tackle away by now, grandson Ben remains positive. “We gotta get Papa a bass.”

“The season is over, Ben. They are headed to warmer water,” says Steve.

Transporting kids to baseball games and music lessons and now fall soccer and gymnastics has left no time for a “Papa fish.”

Steve’s office is on the second floor of a boatyard, and a picture window overlooks Marion Harbor. On Sunday afternoon, October 23, he had paperwork and, with Ben, they drove two miles to his office.

“We need to get Papa a keeper,” Ben repeats, always optimistic, and he has packed his rigged rod. Steve heads for the building, and Ben yells, “Dad, come here!”

Standing on the dock, they behold a black patch of flitting pogies, a striper’s treat.

Ben’s tackle is a 7-foot rod spinning reel filled with 12-pound test line, a leader, and a weighted treble hook to snag a bait fish, which he accomplishes on the first cast.

“Dad, I just saw a submarine or a Great White shark pass under the dock,” says Ben and, alarmed, he lifts the pogie, hesitant to return it. With Steve urging him, the bait is put back in the water that explodes, showering the dock. Line zings from the reel nearly catapult Ben off the wharf.

“This is no schoolie, dad!” Ben exclaims. “Hang on,“ Dad yells, imagining a highlight adventure, dock slips lined with motorboats, a sailboat, Zodiaks, pilings, and everything hazardous to landing a large fish. He is aware of the impending challenge of landing a big mama striper in a congested space that could barely accommodate the capture of a small mama.

Being an accomplished fisherman, Steve’s life work is to publish and to film New England fishing and boating adventures; however, there is no filming crew on this day, with the only witness being a yachtsman motoring ashore in a Boston Whaler.

The striper charges the dock, and Ben reels frantically to gain line. “Steer her away from the slips,” Steve instructs, but this is impossible. Steve slides into a sailboat, and Ben hands him the rod pulsating with a half-moon bend and line stretching around the mast. Pushing away from the mast, he passes the rod back to Ben, and jumps into a Zodiak anticipating the fish to rub off on a piling and to escape under the dock. With the rod back in his hands, Steve is able to lead the striper around the Zodiak while bouncing and nearly losing his balance.

“She’s spooling me!” Steve shouted, reeling in the fish. The young fellow observing the scenario while unloading his sailing gear from the Boston Whaler said, “Hop aboard,” as the mama striper raced for a moored cabin cruiser.

A lengthy pursuit ensued. “A Marion Harbor Sleigh Ride,” Steve described it.

Skillfully, they maneuver the fish into shallow water where she rubs off on a rock. Watching the large striper swim free, the Whaler Captain states, “She’d never fit in this boat!” Steve smiles and says, “Thank God for ‘Hot Sauce,’” a signature title for Ben by his fifth-grade lady friends.

Ben has a striper for Papa and Steve has a real life and personal adventure for his fishing magazine.

Finally, with line stretching in one direction to the fish and with Ben holding the rod, he leads the fish to Steve, who is lying flat on the dock with his face inches from the water. Ben, with rod in hand and holding Steve’s belt to keep his dad anchored with the other, says, “Papa will be proud,” as fearless father gently clutches Big Mama by the gills.

Against insurmountable odds of landing this fish, a team effort results in high-fives, fist bumps, many photos, and a striper for Papa – which meant a gourmet feast for half of the bingo crowd.

By Rudd “Papa” Wyman

One Response to “A Striper for Papa”

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  1. Joe S says:

    Great story Steve. Ben will never forget it!

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