What can I say? This Rita Hayworth sickness is really a drag (no pun). I did it again. Drove 117 miles to sit on the ocean for 14 hours and catch nothing. Stopped in at Moss Landing to see three consecutive boats with 2, 2 and then 5 fish onboard--slugs all. Jealousy is not even the word. I would have stolen one of these lunkers if the guys hadn't been doting over them so compulsively. Imagine that! Stealing some guy's Rita Hayworth! Is that what it's come to? I'm afraid so my people. I'm afraid so.
How to Cure Your Rita Hayworth Sickness: Marilyn Monroe
And then... after writing this the phone rang. It was Nigel. Nigel wanted to go Marilyn fishing in the morning. I tried to explain that I'd just spent three and a half days floating around on the Pacific Ocean and was starting to doubt my sanity. Nigel wasn't hearing it. I tried backing out four or five ways: it's my anniversary! I'm sick and tired of fishing. I'll bring the curse of skunkhood to your boat. I really can't see driving all the way to the Richmond launch ramp at 6am.
But when Nigel suggested that I board at Crissy Field, (yes he backed the Grady White -- at least I think it was a Grady -- into the sand) there was little I could do. Sometimes a convenient launch site is all it takes. Thank god I don't live near Princeton Harbor, I'd never leave the water!
So to make a long story longer, I boarded at Crissy at 7:30 (jealous looks from all the pre-work dog walkers), sped out the gate, ran up the hill for twenty minutes, dropped one line in the water, 20 pulls. Bam. One fish in the boat. 15 minutes later 2 in the box. 45 minutes later 3. Then two shakers. Then bang the fourth Marilyn--limits--one hour after the troll began. Barely legal but who's complaining? Zipped back inside the gate (just as the swell was getting ugly) and back to Crissy Field by 10:15. Sitting here at the desk where I am writing this at 10:30am. If every man on earth could start every day of his life this way, there would be no wars, no depression, no ennui. The problems of space travel, nuclear waste, world hunger, racism, inability for political parties to get along, water management, peak oil, over population, child abuse, cancer, and human stupidity would be summarily erased. Today, there is no doubt, I will conquer the world.
Yes, I know the fish were small, but even a tiny Marilyn will have this effect on a person. She is our sacred fish. The archetype. The goddess. Say what you will about Rita Hayworth. In the end, it's all about Marilyn... at least here in the San Francisco area it is... at least here in my heart it is.
Right, more of these small kings but really... a 24.5 inch king is okay with me. And a boat limit for a round trip 2.7 hour fishing excursion, where the pick up and drop off point is 12-15 minutes from my front door is pretty durned awesome. Feel me?
Okee. Gotta run. Fish to fillet.
PS: if you still have no idea what I'm talking about with the whole Rita Hayworth/Marilyn thing go here: