Like a hunting dog rushing to retrieve a bird, my friend Dave Scott jumped on the bent rod. Our third member, George Speris, the captain of the boat and a veteran on such encounters, gave over the-shoulder advice to Scott. “Just let her go, but once that line starts rolling off at a blur, lock up, and when everything gets tight, nail her!” Scott followed the advice perfectly. The rod doubled over, followed with the usual pandemonium, and after some nervous moments with the net, Speris hauled in a shiny 25-pound striped bass. As the tide kicked in, we had a busy morning, missing and connecting on bites. Eventually, we finished out with a respectable 28-pound fish.
WEST DELTA
The action took place on a channel edge, on the lower…
