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I guess i'll start with some of my own.
About a year after my parents purchased a shore home in Little Egg Harbor NJ, my younger brother and I began tearing into the local fishing scene. Spring rolled around and we could hardly wait. Being only 12 at the time, and my brother about 8 years old, we weren't exactly allowed to go playing around the water. I had heard of the legendary striper run at graveling point in the Mullica. After weeks of saving for a pair of hip boots, my brother and I convinced my father to take us out to the point. On foot of course (for those not knowing the area). My father is not exactly the fishing savy type but loves spending time on the water with us. If you knew him, you would know he's a boat type person. Loves to fish from boats, provided with the shelter of an enclosure and what not.
So there we sat on the bank for 3 straight days dunking blood worms. Watched linesider after linesider come to the shore by other fishermen. One monster that had to be close to 48". My father grew increasingly frustrated at having to sit on a freezing cold sod bank in 25 kt. winds in April. This older man named Harry, kept us company every day. He had to be pushing 75 years of age. Telling us stories while my father curled up on an upside down bucket in the 40 degree winds. We waited, and waited. My brother loved the water. Unfortunately he was only allowed a standard 6' spinner since he was quite young at the time. I sported a nice 10' surf rod i received for christmas as did my father. He was very discouraged that he felt he could not cast the needed distance to get into fish. His casts fell only 50ft. from the beach.
Around 4pm on the last day, we were about to pack it in. My brother was 50 yds. down from me sitting on the bucket watching his rod. I reeled in my line and began taking the bloodworms off the hook. I hear my brother yelling and look down the beach and he is all kinds of bowed up. It looked like a lonely marine trying to raise the flag on Iwo Jima. My father, Harry, and I ran over to him. We coached him and encouraged him. Then a setback, the fish in its initial run wrapped around a clam stake near the beach. Then miraculously, it came un-snagged from the stake. Then my brother slowly gained some line. Finally, i couldn't believe my eyes but we could see the flicker of vanilla colored sides in the murky water...it was a fish. This was no dream. The fish came to the sod, i went down to scoop it up but as i was about to flop it on dry land the hook pulled. My heart sank. Then next thing i know i am on my side laying in the mud. Harry, the 70 year old man we had met only days ago, pushed me to the side and jumped into the 50 degree water, flipping the stunned fish on the beach before it could regain its senses and swim to freedom.
There it sat, my brother didn't know what to say. At his feet lie a 36" striper. Then the smile came to all our faces. My father, Harry, and myself...and finally my brother. At that point all 3 of those days of waiting and receiving nothing was worth it.
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Originally Posted by WAHOONBOX
Now consider I am "Big" Jay and my brother is much larger than I am. The pic below is from this past July. Once again, just my father, brother, and I on our 30' Albemarle Express. My brother brought this bruiser to the boat by himself. My father is behind the camera.
