After living in the United States for 15 years, I came back to my hometown Matsue, a small city in the western part of Japan, in November 2014. I imposed a simple rule on myself. Use only American saltwater lures for at least one year and report what they catch...... When a year had passed since then, I decided not to lift this ridiculous restriction. I am still using only American lures.（2014年11月、15年間のアメリカ生活を終え、島根県松江市に帰郷した私は、自分自身に一つのルールを課しました。少なくとも１年間、アメリカのソルトルアーだけを使い、釣果を報告すること......。そして１年が経過した時、私は、この馬鹿馬鹿しい制約を解除しないことに決めました。今もまだ、アメリカのルアーだけを使っているのです。）
Because Saruwatari was taken by another fisherman this morning, I turned around and headed for Sanami Harbor. Sanami Harbor had been closed due to the pandemic, but I had recently seen someone fishing at Sakitaka-hana, one of the rocky spots beyond the harbor, on my way to Saruwatari. Fortunately the harbor was open again to the public. Some people were already fishing around the harbor. I walked into the woods. Then, I reached Sakitaka-hana. A short while later, a pair of very polite fishermen arrived. They were bait fishermen aiming for Isaki (Threeline grunts). Sharing Sakitaka-hana peacefully, we waited for some fish to respond to my lure or their bait, but nothing happened. I was the first to leave the fishing spot. Referring to the fact that all of us were out of lack, one of the pair said to me, “Because the current was not moving at all.”
Due to some domestic chores that I had to do before noon, I couldn’t spend much time at Saruwatari this early morning. Floating sea weeds stayed still in front me, but the rippling water and the color of the sea made me somewhat hopeful. I was only allowed to be there for one hour from 6:45 a.m. I wished I could have stayed longer.
Regarding the yellowtail amberjack, autumn has been the most productive season since I came back to Japan in 2014. In particular, it was at Saruwatari in Nonami that I have caught most yellowtail amberjacks in autumn. So I definitely wanted to go to Saruwatari this morning, but the weather didn’t allow it. To be more precise, the waves were a bit too high for me to jump over between the rocks in order to reach Saruwatari. I tried Maruiwa in Owashi, instead. The choppiness of the surface made me expect something exciting to happen, but actually the current was hardly moving. All that I caught was some sea weeds staying on the surface.
Today’s fishing at Saruwatari should have been a triumphant rematch with yellowtail amberjacks. Two days ago the super powerful fish broke my fishing line so easily. This morning I armed myself with my heaviest reel and rod with a very strong line. My plan was simple. Forcefully stopping the ferocious run that any big fish takes immediately after it hits my lure at my feet. With the help of my heaviest tackle, I was sure I wouldn’t allow a fish to run. I started throwing my lures about 6:30 a.m. My tackle and I remained 100% ready for any big fish until I quit about 8:30 a.m. While leaving Saruwatari, I was remembering I had made up one of Murphy's laws last year. “Whenever you are ready for a huge fish, you don’t even catch a small one.”
One of my fishing buddies texted me yesterday afternoon that there were plenty of mackerels in Etomo Harbor and he was catching some. But I had things to do and couldn’t join him. So I went to the harbor this afternoon with much anticipations. I carried my lightest reel and rod. I used some of my lightest metal jigs in order to catch mackerels (They are very tasty). However, it didn’t take me long to recognize that all of them had been gone. How capricious fish are!
What happened to me at Safuki-bana about 11 months ago (No. 688) happened again at Saruwatari this morning. The water around Saruwatari looked very good. I got a hunch that a yellowtail amberjack would hit my lure. When I was slowly moving my Guppy Lure’s Jobo Jr. on the surface, the trail the lure left behind looked unnatural. It looked strangely larger. As soon as I realized it was a fish, the lure was quietly drawn into the sea, and the fish dashed toward the bottom. It happened just a few meters away from where I was standing. I remember people say big ones often attack your lure at your feet. The drag of my PENN Battle III 6000HS made a long screeching sound. I couldn’t stop the run. I felt the line scraped against the rocks in the sea, and it broke. I couldn’t do anything. I was at the mercy of the fish. Now I wonder what I could have done in order to stop the run.
I couldn’t wake up early enough. There was already one car left at the parking space for Saruwatari in Nonami when I arrived there about 7 a.m. Saruwatari was occupied, but I was not frustrated. On the contrary, I got happy because I didn’t like to monopolize Saruwatari. I hope as many fishermen as possible should try there. I drove by Saruwatari and headed eastward without knowing where to go. About 10 minutes later I happened to find a fishing spot that I was not sure whether I had tried before. At the unfamiliar fishing spot I kept throwing my lures for about an hour in vain. As soon as I came home, I looked it upon the very useful “Sanin Fishing Spot Guidebook” and now I know it is Shirashima in Chikumi. Although nothing happened there, it was a comfortable fishing spot. So I want to try there again.
This morning I tried again at Kurauchi Bay. The waves were considerably high, and I felt the Japanese sea bass would hit my lures at any moment, but nothing happened. I have nothing more to say about today’s fishing, so I decide to write about how I became an ambidextrous caster. I can throw my lures either right-handed or left-handed. There is no difference between them in every aspect. Some people may think I am inherently ambidextrous, but I am not. I am an inherently right-handed person. It was on one of sunny days in 2014 when I realized I wanted to be an ambidextrous caster. I was somewhere in Rockaway Beach in New York City. I had already decided to leave the United States for good. So I tried to imagine how my fishing would change after I came back to Matsue City in the Shimane Peninsula.
Most shores in New York City are vast sandy beach. There are no obstructing objects when you are throwing lures. On the other hand, the coastline of Shimane Peninsula is saw-toothed. Huge ragged rocks may tower over your head on your right or left side. Even at such an uncomfortable spot, I would be free from the concern about interference from the rock if I were ambidextrous. So I started my practice immediately in order to be an ambidextrous caster. At first it was super awkward to try to throw my lures left-handed. I was not sure how long it would take to be ambidextrous. Maybe a few years? Actually, it took me only three months.
To my surprise, I became a fully ambidextrous caster before I left the U.S. (You can watch me throwing left-handed on the above video) If you are an ambidextrous caster, your arms will not be as tired as before. Because both your arms share the same burden that only one of them used to carry by itself. Most of all, throwing lures alternately right- and left-handed is very fun. I guess it is one of the reasons why I can keep enjoying my “non-fishing” without being sick and tired. I recommend you to try to be an ambidextrous caster. It is worthwhile. It is probably easier than you think. You might love your fishing more than before.
This is the second post today. As I mentioned in my last post, I tried again this afternoon at Kurauchi Bay. There was no fisherman in sight when I arrived about 3 p.m. The height of waves had become a bit lower, but still there were good patches of sarashi (white churning water). I had a stronger hunch that a powerful strike from a Japanese sea bass was about to happen, but nothing happened for 45 minutes. I left the bay and headed for Nanbo in Etomo Harbor. There were some bait fishermen there. They were catching some small fish steadily. I hoped bigger predators were attracted by those small fish to the breakwater, but nothing happened to my lures.
I headed for Kurauchi Bay after I completed my early morning translation assignment. The weather forecast said that the waves could reach 2 meters high. So I hoped there would be nice patches of sarashi (white churning water), under which some Japanese sea bass became very active. When I arrived about 10 a.m., I found there was a lure fisherman already standing at the place where I wanted to stand. I had a chat with him and gave hime a few tips because he seemed to be new to Kurauchi Bay. “Well, good luck. Please be safe!” I said to him and went to the adjacent place at the bay. The waves were high, and I got almost drenched a few times. There was no response from the Japanese sea bass, but I kept feeling a powerful strike from the fish could happen at any moment. I will probably go back this afternoon and try again.
I noticed something unusual when I arrived at Kurauchi Bay about 3 p.m. I couldn’t realize what was unusual for a while. Only after the first cast did I realize that some birds were circling in the sky. Sometimes they descended and then glided just above the surface. It was a beautiful movement. They seemed to try to catch something just below the surface. At my second cast of Roberts Ranger, I saw a white fish chasing and then hitting the lure. It was a small fish. It was hooked but not very deeply. Naturally it came off very shortly. I was not sure what kind of fish it was. A small Japanese sea bass? Or maybe young Japanese Spanish mackerel? The birds kept circling above my head, and I kept throwing my lures for about 45 minutes, but nothing happened after the one and only strike.
I have not run a marathon. I am not a jogger. So this might be one of my misconceptions, but I feel my fishing (on non-fishing) is getting more and more like a daily jogging that amateur marathon runners do as practice. This morning I started fishing at 7:30 a.m. While I kept throwing my lures, my mind was very clear. No distracting thoughts crossed my mind until I quit today’s fishing. I felt as if I were a fishing robot. I wondered whether marathon runners feel as if they were a running robot when they are running.
Where have all the big predatory fish gone? This morning Saruwatari was surrounded with a lot of baitfish. Some were very tiny and others were not tiny. From the predator’s perspective, it must have looked an all-you-can-eat restaurant. But, the restaurant was not popular. There was no customer in the restaurant at all. “Come on in, big fish! we have fresh baitfish! Today’s special is the sardine!” I was so frustrated that I was about to start touting in front of the restaurant.
It was not very strong, but it was a legit strike by fish. I was not sure which fish did it. It might have been a yellowtail amberjack, a Japanese Spanish mackerel, or a Japanese sea bass. It happened at the very 1st or the 2nd cast of my Roberts Ranger. It was about 7 a.m. That one and only encounter with the fish was encouraging enough for me to keep throwing my lures for 2 hours in vain.
Saruwatari in Nonami is a mysterious fishing spot. I had no option but to go to Saruwatari yesterday and the day before yesterday because all the other fishing spots I drove by until I arrived at Saruwatari were crowded. Only Saruwatari was available, so I even wondered if Saruwatari was not as popular as I thought. This morning I left my place almost two hours earlier. So I was pretty sure that I would have Saruwatari all to myself three mornings in a row. As soon as the sea beyond a few fishing spots in Mitsu came into view, I started to feel strange. Unlike the previous two mornings, the other fishing spots I was driving by were all vacant. It was as if all fishermen vanished from the earth overnight. I tried to rationalize the drastic change. "This morning I woke up almost two hours earlier, and it is still before dawn. Probably that’s why." While driving by vacant fishing spots one by one, somehow I was getting less and less sure that I would have Saruwatari all to myself. I murmured, “What if everything is the exact opposite?” I even got scared when I went around a final curve immediately before the parking lot for Saruwatari came into view. And then, what I saw at the parking lot was… a white car! I turned back and drove to Owashi in order to try Susumi-hana. Unfortunately, fishing was not the exact opposite to yesterday. The same uneventful sea.
