“From ancient times wise people and sages have often lived near water. When they live near water they catch fish, catch human beings, and catch the way.”
– Dogen, “Mountains and Water Sutra”
As we slowly enter of what feels like the middle of summer, it is imperative to take advantage of time on the water. The end of June and early July offer exuberant birds, warm water temperatures, incredible fishing, and beautiful 8:30pm sunsets.
In an attempt to not to let the beautiful weather this past weekend fade away, I decide to survey Marshfield’s vast conservation and tidal systems with the overall plan to enjoy a picture-perfect day on the south river. I grab my new ROC Paddleboard, throw on my Outdoor Research sun hat, Permit Costas, and SeaBox neoprene shirt and am ready to go. I properly prepare my RTIC army soft cooler with a 4-pack of Untold Brewing’s Seatown lager, which will be a refreshing accompaniment to me on my journey. A plastic case for my phone and a quick shuffling of Jimmy Buffett’s Son of a Son of a Sailor album, which will be the perfect soundtrack of the day. I get dropped off at CVS, grab all of my belongings, and set sail for the Bridgewaye in Humarock.
The clouds are stringy and wispy, almost cotton candy-like, and on the river the temperature is in the low 80s, but there is a consistent breeze, making it very comfortable. I approach an early embankment, and decide to paddle ashore to rig up my fly rod, and my foot falls about 6 inches into the mud, and hundreds of fiddler crabs scurry back into their holes. As I pull my foot out and wash it in the river, I spot a few small hermit crabs in the water, briefly bringing back memories of crabbing on the jetty at Burke’s Beach. I decide at this point it is probably a good time to crack open my first beer. I rig up my rod, and continue on further down the river, ready to cast at a moment’s notice if I see any signs of feeding stripers.
As I paddle, I see White Egrets, Least Terns, Red-Winged Blackbirds, and several Great Blue Herons. Just as I am acknowledging the beautiful moment, an Osprey dives in the water in front of me and comes back up and flies overhead with a herring in its beak. Although this is a leisurely trip, there is another animal that I am in pursuit of: the mighty striped bass. I pull out my rigged fly rod and park the paddle board near one of the embankments near Bourne Park Ave and try fishing an eddy. A few casts and listening to the birds, I do not feel as though I am in Marshfield anymore – perhaps some estuary in northern Maine. With no luck in this part of the river, I climb up the embankment on to the marsh and can see Rexhame Beach, and think for a moment there may be better luck closer to the mouth of the river.
The great aspect of the paddle board is that you can traverse many channels in the river that you normally would not be able to do on an ordinary boat. After about fifteen minutes in the estuary, I paddle down to a rocky bank near Rexhame Beach, and try a few more casts. Even if you do not catch anything, fly fishing is incredibly rewarding and fun because it is a more intimate experience than normal fishing (normal fishing is more mechanical). Fly fishing is quite literally a string and a hook – when you feel a tug on the line, it is unlike any other rush or experience. It is heart-pounding, satisfying, and a true connection and intimate moment with nature. As life gets crazier and I get older, I find peace and solace in the simplicity of nature and the relationship between fish and angler. As I go to pack up, I say the famous words of all fisherman, “just one more cast,” and it couldn’t have been a more perfect cast. I strip the line slowly then quick, with a little bit of twitches and “BANG” the line goes taut and we’ve hooked a small striper. It puts up a good fight and I look at the beautiful fish and put it back in the water.
Looks like my timing was lucky, because several folks and kids are bringing chairs, floats, and other river toys over to where I am in the river. Parents jump in and a 1973 Boston Whaler whizzes by. I decide not to be greedy and end my excursion – we will make it to the Bridgewaye next time. I paddle to the shore and look back as the sun as setting, and recall what was a good, leisurely day, on the south river.
