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Crazy fishing related stories,,,,

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Heavy Hooksetter

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I was out there fishing off this dock one night real late like 1am I’m half asleep and theres bait and fish around.. then I see something swim toward me …I see like that V pattern in the water coming at me. then I noticed it’s like 3 heads (it’s very dark and at this point and is just getting eery ) at first I thought scuba divers? I was so tired I was at that point where you feel kinda wobbly. And I thought what the heck are divers doing out here this late abs why are they looking right at me and swimming at me… the whole thought of it really freaked me out… Then I saw they were not human… and that made it worse. and then I thought it was seals? 3 seals in like 70 degree water? All This while they are swimming directly at me… I can see there eyes looking at me. Those black beady eyes… Eery isn’t the word- shivers up my spine more like it- like what the heck is this? Then they stop like 10 ft in front of me and just look at me these 3 heads sticking up out of the water the size of like a persons head… so I had my head lamp with me , which I hardly ever ever use. So I shine it on them and they look and go under. I still don’t know what it is. So I keep fishing - thinking I scared what ever it is away. Then I hear swimming behind me, on the back side of this dock… it’s like 1am, I’m  half asleep. I can’t locate them - I shine my light again and nothing. So back to fishing… what ever they are they are gone (still a little creeped out tho) like a few minutes later maybe 10- I hear something on the dock- I try to look down in the darkness like 20 ft from me. The end of the dock where I was is hardly lit, it’s really dark, all shadows. and I see these things like small black dogs crawling up on the dock and moving around.  I see them, they see me… I might have shined my light, I forget, but they were gone and that’s that… 

BUT one of the main reasons I don’t use a light is to stay incognito…and I’m pretty certain I’m the only one who frequents this spot, and it is productive at the right tide and if you fish it correctly.  well like 20 min later I hear foot steps… I see who it is, this guy I kinda know but not really from the spot across the way…I saw him over there with his light on earlier.  I don’t think He saw me- but I saw him stumble onto the dock , certainly the first time
Here by the way he was making his way down this old dock.  Now it’s just me and this guy- at like 1am in the dark - you would think he would say something like hey what’s up or whatever… but nope he just finds a spot and starts like power casting and making all this commotion casting over me multiple time… so I just had it and left. ANYWAYS- he saw my light, which is why he came over… So the muskrats or whatever they were ended up giving my spot away. moral of story, don’t use your headlamp - even if muskrats are attacking you 
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In 2013 I was living in a rental off Matunuck Beach Road in RI during my senior year at URI. 
 

One night in the fall I was driving home after fishing a breachway with my roommates. I had just turned off Route 1 onto Matunuck Beach Road when, out of nowhere, a guy literally runs out from  darkness- crossing the centerline of the road and heads directly at us.
To say it freaked us out was an understatement. My buddy was eating something in the passenger seat and I’m pretty sure he tossed his food all over my truck.

 

I was driving at a pretty good rate of speed, but I was able to swerve into the grassy shoulder of the road to avoid disaster. After that I punched the gas and got home asap. 
 

It all happened so fast (so take this with a grain of salt) but we all agreed that when this guy was running, he looked like he wasn’t moving his arms and they were both held down at his sides like they weren’t working. The guy looked absolutely possessed, lol.

 

Something similar to this happened to me 2 years ago heading home from a late night surf trip. I was on a rural stretch of road when several cops zipped past me with their lights on, but no sirens. A couple miles later, two guys hopped out from behind the guardrail and walked into the middle of the road with their hands up, trying to stop me. Adrenaline kicked in, I slammed the brakes and somehow pulled off a u-turn. Took the long way home that night!

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one morning was otw and it hit 5 am, sky was getting light.

I See dark circles coming down the shore, bunkers were hauling ass upriver against the tide.

I unhook my cooper and get ready, I hear a crash, I throw out there next to it, close the bail and crank, a 10lb gator slams me.

I land the fish and dispatch it.

it's getting light enough to see pretty good but the bunkers had already gone by so, I take out my k bar and split the fish open, the fins are still twitchy and I remove all its inners grab it by the tail squatted down and I shook the fish in the water to rinse it out, all of a sudden the fish shoots it way out of my hand at full power and it's gone into the current and I'm squatted down and looking at the water with a big question mark on my face and I was like wtf?, My neighbor didn't get his fish that day.

HH

Edited by Heavy Hooksetter

An armed man is a citizen,,,an unarmed man is a subject,,,,,,,,

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Old story but completely true. About 18 years now..............

 

 

A warm late spring pre-dawn morning in North Monmouth.

 

I'd been fishing one of our club tournaments and was going on at least 24 hours with no sleep, to say the least I was doing the half zombie thing. Was going from spot to spot trying to track down a bite. Totally in my own zone not paying attention to anything

Decided to have a go behind the Ocean Hilton Hotel in Long Branch.

 

I park, grab my rod, cross over the boardwalk and walk down onto the beach. False Dawn is just starting and there was a thick fog rolling in off the water swirling around on the beach. I'm stumbling down towards the water when I realize I'm not alone, in fact there are lots of people there - and something isn't quite right...................

 

As the sky begins to brighten up I realize that I'm surrounded by between 50 to 100 midgets - I **** you not! There must have been a convention or something at the conference center. By far the single most surreal moment I've ever experienced.

 

There were all different shapes and sizes fading in and out of view in the half light and mist.

One with a perfectly normal upper body and little stubby midget legs, his hands drug in the sand as he walked, a whole pack of tiny little midget children playing tag, one with a really twisted back was fishing, a midget couple making out on a blanket....................

 

No one even acknowledged the fact that I was there walking through the middle of the crowd. It was as though I was completely invisible - the scene was something right out of a Salvador Dali film with me in a starring role on the edge of a complete freak out.

Edited by Sudsy

I just wanta play everyday despite small nagging injuries --

and go home to a woman who appreciates how full of crap I truly am. ~ Crash Davis

 

Social Distancing since 1962

 

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Fished a tide at Short beach one evening and “had to rush back to hopefully make the head”. 2-3am and I realize I’m not gonna make it.. break the seal on the waders and grab a log to lean back and whew, alls good save the burying part. No beach access for vehicles the entire beach and i assumed i was safe and alone. Well, not the case. I dropped draws and dumped 20’ from some couple in their car doing the deed. Must have been a town employee with a key to open the gate. Ruined the mood that night, but i had a laugh..

I'll ignore your cheap aroma,

and your little-bo-peep diploma,

I'll just put you in a coma,

with some dirty love-

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8 hours ago, squidder 329 said:

Two beach stories I had forgotten, wife and I walking the beach on the Outer Banks.

New moon and pitch black walked head on into a guy walking the other way. Cape may New moon night as I walked I tripped, seems I stumbled on couple doing the dirty deed. Worst part I couldn't see her.

 

 

Same, was walking back from the end of a sandbar one night. I didn't have any lights on. Went to step over a log when the log said, "hello"....

 

Two kids under a blanket.

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8 hours ago, Sudsy said:

Old story but completely true. About 18 years now..............

 

 

A warm late spring pre-dawn morning in North Monmouth.

 

I'd been fishing one of our club tournaments and was going on at least 24 hours with no sleep, to say the least I was doing the half zombie thing. Was going from spot to spot trying to track down a bite. Totally in my own zone not paying attention to anything

Decided to have a go behind the Ocean Hilton Hotel in Long Branch.

 

I park, grab my rod, cross over the boardwalk and walk down onto the beach. False Dawn is just starting and there was a thick fog rolling in off the water swirling around on the beach. I'm stumbling down towards the water when I realize I'm not alone, in fact there are lots of people there - and something isn't quite right...................

 

As the sky begins to brighten up I realize that I'm surrounded by between 50 and 100 midgets - I **** you not! There must have been a convention or something at the conference center. By far the single most surreal moment I've ever experienced.

 

There were all different shapes and sizes fading in and out of view in the half light and mist.

One with a perfectly normal upper body and little stubby midget legs, his hands drug in the sand as he walked, a whole pack of tiny little midget children playing tag, one with a really twisted back was fishing, a midget couple making out on a blanket....................

 

No one even acknowledged the fact that I was there walking through the middle of the crowd. It was as though I was completely invisible - the scene was something right out of a Salvador Dali film with me in a starring role on the edge of a complete freak out.

And that was the tallest you would ever be....

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I dragged my kayak through the woods and slide it into a little drain that leads to a VERY secluded Kettle Hole Bog Pond.  The drain is only as wide as the old sit in kayak and the brush goes completely across so spider webs and spiders everywhere.  Its about One in the morning on a new moon.  Really dark.  I pole through the drain clearing the webs in front of me with the paddle  and pop out into the Pond.  I'm uptight cause Spiders make me really uncomfortable.  Fish a bit, caught some nice Largemouth on a jitterbug and the kayak drifts against the willow shrubs on the bog.  I begin to hear what sounds like someone walking and they are getting closer.  But a person can't walk on the floating bog without breaking through and there up to 7 feet of water under the false shoreline.  A couple of "Hello's" nothing.  The steps are getting closer, More "Hello's" nothing.   OK , I turn on the light and about a foot away and on top of the willows , about a foot over my shoulder is one of the biggest snapping turtles I ever seen coming right at me.  Screamed like a girl and pushed off with the paddle.  Damn thing hit the Kayak when it came off the edge.  Fishing ended right there.  Back through the spiders and home.  I still had butterflies when I got to the truck dragging the yak.  Two things that make me uptight are spiders and Snapping Turtles.  Never fished that place at night again!

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Not the crazist story but there was another fisherman next to me that was maybe 30 ft away from his rod, his drag must've been tight because he hooked onto a cownose ray and started taking his rod in the wateHes darting towards the rod as fast as he can and as the rod enters the water, he dolphin dives into the water and manages to grab his rod and land the ray. It was a magnificent save. I've seen a few people lose their setup to cownose rays this season

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This happened about six or seven Springs ago. I'm from central PA. It takes about five hours for me to drive to Sandy Hook, so generally, I'm already tired when I get there.  I left home around midnight, took the long walk, was fishing out at the tip just as it was getting light.

I fished thru the day and there was just enough action to keep me from going back to the van for a much needed nap.

I ended up staying out at the tip until well into the night.

Sometime after midnight, fatigue finally won out over adrenaline. I hiked back to the van and started driving slowly south through Fort Hancock and all the Coast Guard stuff.  There's a stretch just as you start heading south thru the park where the bay is right against the road and there are lots of rocks.  I was approaching this and something looked funny up ahead. Flashes of light coming from down by the water up ahead.  I slowed.  Now there's a big glow coming up from the rocks.  I slowed more, thinking it was a boat in distress, right against shore.

I'm now truly at a crawl, thinking I'm about to fly into action and rescue someone.  The road curves just a bit and the brush goes away and at last I have a clear view of the light source.

Down close to the water is woman wearing a giant, white ostrich feather head dress and little else.  There are three men clambering around on the rocks with flood lights and reflectors and there's a guy with a camera.  The woman actually is wearing a tiny something of a bathing suit in addition to the feathered head dress and sequins all over, but the total weight of all that covered her body was probably less than a floating SP Minnow.  I came to a complete stop for my own safety and just gawked.

I'll never forget the image of all that. Would love to have seen the results of that photo shoot!!!

 

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23 hours ago, linesiderdemdnj said:

 

tried to hurry while being careful back to my truck, and low and behold, i brought the wrong top section for my spare rod.

 

took all my stuff off and drove home.  i made 5 total casts.  nightmare.

I remember one time I was tying leaders to one of my 2 piece fishing rods and I quickly grabbed it and drove down to Rb when I heard it been productive there.   Got there and tried to piece my rod together and found out that I rigged the wrong tip to my rod...  didn't have an extra rig in the car...   At least it was only a little over an hour drive ...

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Apologies for how long this turned out, had some fun typing it up and decided it was a nice way to document the incident, more for myself than anything else. Summary is at the end for those of you who are sane and rather not read an essay. 

 

Got into surf casting a couple years ago and decided to treat myself to a long weekend on Cuttyhunk this year, just prior to the season “officially” starting. Took the ferry over with my fiancée and her family, which consisted of a couple serious fisherman who thought the trip also sounded fun. Weather was ideal in every way - fog rolling over the island as we pulled into the harbor, followed by nothing but blue skies and beautiful temps all weekend long. I took the advice of many a wise angler and spent the day, Friday, largely exploring the island, checking spots I had scouted on google maps, and tossing a couple lures in here and there to test the waters. After a thorough trip around the island, I returned to the fishing club where we were all staying, enjoyed a delicious meal, and grabbed my rod the second the plates were washed. For those who haven’t been, the shore of Cuttyhunk is lined with boulders of every size and shape. I had read that snags were common, and that was an understatement for me. I had yet, and have still yet to this day, catch anything over slot, which was my primary goal for this trip. Rod in hand, the hours ticked by without even so much as a bite, and before I knew it, it was 2am, and time for me to call it a night and head back to the club to get some rest before trying again the next day.

 

Saturday morning I awoke with a single purpose in life - to catch a fish, not even over slot, but just any fish after my abysmal performance the night before. The minute the last bite of breakfast cleared my mouth, I grabbed my rod, jumped in the golf cart, and headed out to fish, only stopping to eat and urinate, both of which I repeatedly put off longer than I should have. Knowing that the night would likely be the most productive, and my arm starting to now feel a bit fatigued after hours of fishing, I decided to pack it in and head back to the club for a shower, rest, and some dinner, returning as I had that morning, without a single bite. I figured I would change things up a bit that evening and fish the rising in the morning, rather than a dropping that evening. My alarm sounded at 2am and I was dressed and out the door at 2:05am, the little golf cart zipping through the heavy night air. The morning was shaping up to be a bit better, a couple hours into fishing I had a few bumps, and even a bite. But as the hours once again slipped by, I found myself once again without a fish. By then, it was 7am and I figured a good stopping point for breakfast. I turned the key to the golf cart and as it puttered to life, began heading back to the club, dejected and saddened.

 

I reluctantly ate some breakfast, showered, and rested up for a minute, trying to figure out where I may have gone wrong. At this point, checkout was quickly approaching, a sign to most reasonable people to start packing, prompting me to instead leaving my napping fiancée in the room, grab my rod, and head down for one more try instead. Wanting to let my gear dry before I had to pack it up, I went just down the stairs and walked along the rocky shore in front of the club in my sneakers and jeans, plugging along as I walked, standing atop boulders on the beach as to stay out of the tide that periodically washed by. At one point, about 200 feet down the beach, I tossed a plug and, like it had done 100 times before, got it stuck on the retrieve. I knew the drill - rod flat so you don’t load it, drag tight, pull straight back and hope the weed or little chip in the rock has a lower breaking strength than my line or knot. And just as it did 92 times before, the lure came flying back, attached to the line, pulled free from whatever it had been holding onto. However, this time, instead of landing at my feet in a “thud,” I heard a ping. I looked around to see where the plug had landed, confused as to how I could lose something tied to a string I had the end of, taking a moment to realize I had something attached to me, and this was almost certainly related to my missing plug. I looked down and saw the eye of my 6” needlefish plug dangling by my chest, just barely in my view. I grabbed at my shirt’s neck, expecting to see the plug move down with it, the single tail hook caught between a few fibers of the fleece I was wearing. The plug didn’t move. “Great” I thought, I have a thick beard and it surely just got stuck in that somehow. It had to, I wasn’t in pain, I hadn’t felt anything sharp, it was surely just a little stuck and I’d be on my way in a moment. I moved my hand up the plug slowly, following the tail hook, tracing the metal through my beard, until it disappeared into my skin. I pulled my hand away slowly and looked at my fingertips, covered in a light coat of blood.

 

As an infectious disease research doctor, and a somewhat adrenalin seeking one at that, I’m no stranger to the medical world and injuries in general. First thing was first I thought, I needed to triage myself; was this going to be a funny story and a bandaid, or was I taking a MedFlight off the island. I gave the hook a gentle tug to see just how stuck it was. It might have been only 1cm in, but the barb made all the difference, and it became immediately clear that it wasn’t coming out while standing on some boulder down by the water. I looked around and knew there was no chance I was successfully calling for help on a deserted beach, meaning I would need to make the walk back up to the club before anything could be done. I closed my mouth, held my nose, and gave a hard puff, trying to determine just how deep the hook was, and if it had found its way into my airway. I didn’t detect any leaks, and not being able to actually see the injury myself at all, I cut the line off the plug, grabbed my rod, and slowly, slowly, started walking back to the club. I made my way across the boulders, up the steps, and onto the lawn of the club, all the while holding the plug to stabilize it, where I was met by one of the other guests, a jovial and hung over middle aged gentleman on his first fishing trip ever. Seeing me stumble up, he asked if everything was okay, to which I replied that, no, everything was in fact not okay. Seeing the situation clearly now, he jumped up, pulling out his pliers, and starting running towards me, offering his help in removing the hook embedded in my neck. In what must have been a look of utter horror, I politely refused his assistance, as politely as one in that situation could at least, and instead asked if he knew where my fiancée might be. I managed to call out her name a couple of times as I walked through the door, the guest darting off without a word. I stumbled around the club for a moment before I found the remainder of my group, just funneling out of a cart on their way back from breakfast. Walking calmly outside I expressed “I could use some help” which was met with a couple of laughs, thinking I was pulling a prank on them given how “stoic” I was being (so I’m told). I’m not sure if it was the blood dripping down the plug, or the absolute lack of color in my face, but it didn’t take long for them to realize it wasn’t a prank.

 

I was quickly helped into a seat on the back deck and soon had 10 or so people, fiancée included, standing around me like I had just found the holy grail. The most experienced fisherman in the group sat down and took a look, quickly going a color of white that made me look rosy red. I asked how bad it was and his reply told me everything I needed to know, “pretty bad.” The hook had embedded itself dead center in my neck, about 2cm above my Adam’s apple. Like the guest immediately before him, he pulled out his pliers, thinking maybe he could coax the hook out. He paused for a moment, likely realizing that wasn’t a good idea given how much vital anatomy was located in that area, and pondered like I had done, what exactly to do instead. It dawned on my then what must have happened; when I pulled the lure free of its snag, like I had done hundreds of times before, it hit at my feet as usual, but instead of just coming to a rest, it ricocheted off the boulder I was standing on and went 90 degrees, landing directly below my chin and into my neck. A one in a million occurrence. As I was pondering this, another member of my group had the foresight to grab the innkeeper who by now was also examining the situation. He grabbed his phone, told me to hang tight, and made a call while walking out of sight. A minute later, he returned, with good news no less - there was a medical professional on the island and they were coming down to assist, “the best vet on the island” he said somewhat jokingly, or so we all thought. A couple minutes and a few cool compresses later, an extremely kind young lady pulled up and introduced herself, again, as the islands best vet with a smile. She explained she was indeed a vet and while she couldn’t treat me, could provide an informed opinion on the situation and help decide the next steps, something no one else had been able to do up to this point. She looked, poked a bit, and agreed with what I had feared most, that I’d be taking a ride off the island sooner rather than later.

 

A few more phone calls and minutes later, an older model Ford Escape pulled up the deck behind the club and a gentleman popped out. He introduced himself as the school teacher, fire chief, shellfish company operator, year-long resident, and (most importantly for this situation) the island’s EMT. After taking a look for himself and chatting with the vet, innkeeper, and myself for a moment, agreed that a ride off the island was called for. He explained this kind of stuff happens “all the time,” and said they have protocols in place for these situations; I’d be taking a boat back to the mainland and going to a nearby hospital for treatment. I was soon wrapped up like a gunshot victim with what felt like a mile of tape and gauze being used to secure the lure and its two dandling treble hooks for transport. I was carefully loaded in to the front of truck, my fiancée seated behind me, and we started heading toward the dock. He asked how I was feeling and if I felt capable of handling a short walk. I got the feeling I didn’t have much choice, and being in relatively little pain, even cracking a few jokes, I replied in the affirmative. We soon pulled up the dock and after walking from the parking lot, down a ladder, across a boat, we finally reached his, a well used, well loved, shellfishing boat. I was given the VIP seat, an old Coleman cooler in the corner by the console, and we headed off. The adrenalin running down, the pain starting to accumulate, and all the while being reminded I had a nearly 3oz 6” piece of plug hanging from my neck with every wave we crested, we arrived at the mainland what felt like a lifetime later. He helped me from my seat and into his car, reassuring me I was doing well, and headed toward the hospital. 15 minutes later we arrived at the ED entrance, and I was ferried inside. We got up the reception desk and the EMT explained what the situation was, and that he had called about an hour prior that we’d be arriving. The nurse took one look at me, grabbed a wheelchair, and brought me back to a triage room, hooks, plug, tape and gauze and all.

 

I’ve spent more than my fair share of time in hospitals, on both sides of the coin, and started to feel a bit more at ease once I settled into the exam chair, though still nervous that this hook wouldn’t be coming out without an operation. The triage nurse took my vitals, started to unwrap the plug, examined the injury, and said as calmly as she could with the faintest crack in her voice “I need to call someone.” A phone call and not more than a minute later, a PA showed up, who similarly looked and expressed that, he too, had to call someone. Yet another PA showed up, and after yet another round of exam, the three huddled and came up with a plan - they needed to call someone else. Two residents soon appeared, took a look at what the situation was, and wheeled me back into a room. The ED was packed to say the least - gurneys in the hallway, not an idle hand on the floor, about normal for a nice Sunday. Once back into a room, I moved from the wheelchair to a bed, and soon had about 10 nurses wizzing around me. Vitals were taken again, leads placed, IV inserted, and the two residents that had wheeled me back were now trying to figure out what to do. Get the lure removed and free the hook was the first order of business. They started with a small pair of nippers with no luck. The ring kept twisting when they went to cut it, and afraid of doing more damage with the sharp hook buried in my neck, they quickly abandoned that. Next up was a pair of ring cutters, a small hand cranked diamond wheel used to remove wedding bands and the like. After a few minutes of use, the ring again wobbling side to side, they abandoned that plan and went to regroup. “We’ll be right back” the doctors expressed and hurried away. There are few things more discomforting than being in a medical crisis, in a place where you’re supposed to go for a medical crisis (aka a hospital) and having half a dozen trained medical professionals look at you and not know what to do.

 

Nurses and other staff continued to whizz through my room until an older gentleman seemingly magically appeared, bringing the room to a near halt as they waited for new orders. It didn’t take more than one look to realize it was the attending, the buck stopped at him as far as the ED was concerned. He introduced himself, ensured we would get this taken care of, and set a frenzy of people into monition just as quickly as they had paused. We talked shop for a moment, likely more him assessing my mental state than anything, and I made my first and only request - lorazepam, and a healthy dose of it. The medication was pushed and I was soon feeling much more relaxed. The residents updated him on what they had tried so far, the success, or rather lack there of, readily apparent. He agreed, first order of business was to get the plug free of the hook. He instructed one of the nurses to run up to the OR and grab the nippers used to cut the titanium bolts, sending another to get the cutters used to open lockers just in case. At this point, fearing something may get nicked and cause me to crash, what seemed like the entirety of the ED was in my room, standing by, ready to resuscitate me if the need arose. Unbeknownst to me at the time, my finance had asked for a status update and if she could come back to see me. She was told I was stable, and that while they’d love to have her back, it was standing room only, as I was the current the focus of the entire department at the moment. The nippers arrived, and after some finagling, the ring was finally cut, and I was 3oz lighter. A ENT specialist was called down and a bedside x-ray was taken. This involved two technicians, dressed head to toe in lead, one holding the target, the other operating the machine while the room emptied out for the first time. Nothing makes you feel more comfortable than see everyone leave you except for two people in lead suits while you’re protected by nothing more than a bedsheet.

 

Radiograph was taken, examined, and a final plan laid out. The hook didn’t appear to have hit anything vital, and barring any objections from me, they would numb me up, cut the eye, and push it through as if it was just stuck in my finger. Already a bit (mentally) numb from the benzos, and having just gone through what felt like the adventure of a lifetime just getting to the hospital, this wasn’t much of an issue for me. The hook came out, a few pictures snapped, and I was free. Just in time as well, as the maintenance man had just showed up with the pair of industrial bolt cutters, 3 feet long, wondering how he could help. There was surprisingly little blood in the end, and I didn’t even need stitches, just a bandaid and a big pack of antibiotics. My fiancée rejoined me in the back, I thanked everyone profusely, and I was discharged, to fish again another day.

 

TLDR: Went fishing on Cuttyhunk, took a hook to the neck on an empty beach and had to get emergency evacuated from the island to have it removed.

Edited by Camhabib
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37 mins ago, UncleJohn said:

I remember one time I was tying leaders to one of my 2 piece fishing rods and I quickly grabbed it and drove down to Rb when I heard it been productive there.   Got there and tried to piece my rod together and found out that I rigged the wrong tip to my rod...  didn't have an extra rig in the car...   At least it was only a little over an hour drive ...

yeah that is the worst.  7 hours away it was a little hard to take.  didn't want to buy a new rod in the morning either.

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