Terror on the Pier
Ocean waves crashed onto the beach as the old wooden pier swayed gently in the hot summer evening breeze. Overhead hung an old rusty sign, “Ocean City Maryland Fishing Pier.” The sweet smell of ocean air filled my nostrils as the hot July evening sun toasted my skin. Quickly, my older brother Zach, my mom, and I made our way to the small wooden shack, in the middle of the pier.
To begin, my dream, for as long as I can remember was to go fishing in the ocean and catch a real shark. After all, TV makes it look so exciting. Not to mention, my brother and I have fished in almost every river and lake in Pennsylvania. Now, I was ready for the big fish, or so I thought.
“Hurry up,” I bellowed, “We have to rent our rods, buy bait,
…show more content…
and get to the end of the pier before all the good spots are taken.” Zach snickered, “What’s the rush, do you really think we are going to catch a shark?” Within ten minutes, the three of us were making our way across the uneven blood stained boards of the fishing pier.
I must say, I had an uneasy feeling when we finally arrived at the end of the pier. From the shore the pier seemed short, but in reality the wooden planks carried us out into the ocean approximately the length of a football field. To make matters worse, when I looked down over the shaky, wooden, guardrail I realized if I fell in, I would be gone forever. Oh well, I was here to fish and that is just what I was going to do. After all, I knew how to fish; I have caught plenty of fish in my …show more content…
day. “Let’s get our rods ready,” yelled my mom. Quickly, I reached for the bait and opened the lid. Oh my, the smell was enough to knock you off your feet. “What is that?” Zach screeched. “It is dead squid,” I replied. Then, with our hooks baited with dead squid, we were ready to cast off. As soon as my bait hit the water, my fishing rod nearly bent in half and my body smacked into the flimsy guardrail. At this time, I could not imagine what was happening. All of a sudden, five fishermen were standing next to me yelling instructions. “Let him run with the line, release the tension, do not let go of the rod, give me the pole.” Wow! My head was spinning in circles. I could not believe what was happening. Then, after approximately fifteen minutes of struggling to hold the rod with the help of some men, my jaw dropped open. Jumping up and down in the ocean was a shark, and the creature was on my fishing line. I soon realized that this was nothing at all like reeling in the catfish at the river. To explain, I had to battle over 45 minutes, with the help of several others, until I was able to get the shark out of the water and onto the pier. The skin on the palms of my hands looked like I put them in a blender, and I was soaked with sweat. Additionally, when the shark landed on the dock of the pier, he was angry. His enormous mouth filled with bright white, razor sharp teeth opened and closed angrily and his body flailed back and forth, as his tail slashed every which way. I swear his beady black eyes were telling me he was going to eat me for dinner. Cheers of excitement filled the pier as everybody gathered around to see the shark and the young girl that caught him. Then, his tail slashed again and he sent rods, bait buckets, and tackle boxes over the rail and into the ocean. At this time, my excitement turned to sheer terror. “Get away from there,” yelled my mom and brother in unison. To be honest, they did not have to tell me twice. I ran as far from the angry shark as I could. From a distance, we watched the fisherman lower the shark back into the ocean, and I could not have been happier. Finally, the three of us left the pier and never looked back. In conclusion, although I was very excited to catch a shark, I learned a lesson I will never forget. I have a greater respect for ocean life and a better understanding of how powerful and dangerous, even a 3-foot shark is. Next time, I attempt something that I really know nothing about; I will think twice or at least educate myself about all the possible outcomes. I never thought, for one second, that I could catch a shark from a pier, and that was my first mistake. Molly Wagner Mr. Smith Language Arts Pd. 1 22 September 2015 Terror on the Pier Ocean waves crashed onto the beach as the old wooden pier swayed gently in the hot summer evening breeze. Overhead hung an old rusty sign, “Ocean City Maryland Fishing Pier.” The sweet smell of ocean air filled my nostrils as the hot July evening sun toasted my skin. Quickly, my older brother Zach, my mom, and I made our way to the small wooden shack, in the middle of the pier. To begin, my dream, for as long as I can remember was to go fishing in the ocean and catch a real shark.
After all, TV makes it look so exciting. Not to mention, my brother and I have fished in almost every river and lake in Pennsylvania. Now, I was ready for the big fish, or so I thought.
“Hurry up,” I bellowed, “We have to rent our rods, buy bait, and get to the end of the pier before all the good spots are taken.”
Zach snickered, “What’s the rush, do you really think we are going to catch a shark?”
Within ten minutes, the three of us were making our way across the uneven blood stained boards of the fishing pier. I must say, I had an uneasy feeling when we finally arrived at the end of the pier. From the shore the pier seemed short, but in reality the wooden planks carried us out into the ocean approximately the length of a football field. To make matters worse, when I looked down over the shaky, wooden, guardrail I realized if I fell in, I would be gone forever. Oh well, I was here to fish and that is just what I was going to do. After all, I knew how to fish; I have caught plenty of fish in my day.
“Let’s get our rods ready,” yelled my mom.
Quickly, I reached for the bait and opened the lid. Oh my, the smell was enough to knock you off your
feet. “What is that?” Zach screeched. “It is dead squid,” I replied. Then, with our hooks baited with dead squid, we were ready to cast off. As soon as my bait hit the water, my fishing rod nearly bent in half and my body smacked into the flimsy guardrail. At this time, I could not imagine what was happening. All of a sudden, five fishermen were standing next to me yelling instructions. “Let him run with the line, release the tension, do not let go of the rod, give me the pole.” Wow! My head was spinning in circles. I could not believe what was happening. Then, after approximately fifteen minutes of struggling to hold the rod with the help of some men, my jaw dropped open. Jumping up and down in the ocean was a shark, and the creature was on my fishing line. I soon realized that this was nothing at all like reeling in the catfish at the river. To explain, I had to battle over 45 minutes, with the help of several others, until I was able to get the shark out of the water and onto the pier. The skin on the palms of my hands looked like I put them in a blender, and I was soaked with sweat. Additionally, when the shark landed on the dock of the pier, he was angry. His enormous mouth filled with bright white, razor sharp teeth opened and closed angrily and his body flailed back and forth, as his tail slashed every which way. I swear his beady black eyes were telling me he was going to eat me for dinner. Cheers of excitement filled the pier as everybody gathered around to see the shark and the young girl that caught him. Then, his tail slashed again and he sent rods, bait buckets, and tackle boxes over the rail and into the ocean. At this time, my excitement turned to sheer terror. “Get away from there,” yelled my mom and brother in unison. To be honest, they did not have to tell me twice. I ran as far from the angry shark as I could. From a distance, we watched the fisherman lower the shark back into the ocean, and I could not have been happier. Finally, the three of us left the pier and never looked back. In conclusion, although I was very excited to catch a shark, I learned a lesson I will never forget. I have a greater respect for ocean life and a better understanding of how powerful and dangerous, even a 3-foot shark is. Next time, I attempt something that I really know nothing about; I will think twice or at least educate myself about all the possible outcomes. I never thought, for one second, that I could catch a shark from a pier, and that was my first mistake.
Just as in any other sport, understanding gives rise to advantage and success. As serious fishermen, we had dedicated much thought to understanding the fish, hypothesizing their behavior. One understanding we had already gained through previous experiences was that fish readily eat the prey that is normally available. This, we concluded, was a sort of defense against fishermen and their foreign lures and was acquired through the fishes’ own previous experience of eating a lure. In applying this understanding to our fishing, we performed a routine food chain analysis to find out what our lures needed to imitate. The results were that the part of the food chain just beneath our quarry consisted mostly of small fish such as anchovies and young yellowtail, smaller than those shad and bluegill normally eaten in freshwater ponds. To compensate for this difference we would have to use lures smaller than those we were used to using. Luckily we had some.
There is something about catching fish that just gives me such an adrenaline rush and it becomes an addictive experience that I just want to try again and again. Reeling in the line and watching the fish come closer and closer makes me so excited. The good thing about fishing is that most of what you catch you can eat.
shrimp on the hook, crack open a Red Bull and reach the point of relaxation. Fishing is all about
All three piers have survived hurricanes, winter northeasters and Father Time. All three offer on-site eateries, sundries and fishing accoutrements. But their top calling card is convenience. You don’t have to charter a boat, or find a friend who owns one, to get out
“Dad I’m scared. Can you watch me?” I was actually scared of the aliens you were supposed to shoot. My dad came to watch me sometimes, and when he didn’t I had to learn not to be scared of the evil aliens trying to eat my fish. By the time I was 5 years old, I was pretty convinced I wanted to be a marine biologist. I did projects about fish in Elementary School, and I always knew the difference between the “Dorsal fin.” and the “Claudal fin.”. Needless to say, I used to have a pretty big fascination with marine life. Not as much anymore, now that I’m older, but fish still have a place in my heart, especially the 20 fish I used to have as pets when I was about 6 years
everything was packed, we carried out our cooler, rods, bait, and tackle boxes down to the dock. The sky was just beginning to turn a light gray color, and all the trees were standing still. We filled up the boat with our fishing supplies, and I untied the ropes from the dock. The boat was white and blue on the outside, with a matching interior. The engine was always a little slow starting, but that morning it fired on the first try.
For those who are curious about fishing, but never seem to have any luck, here are a few simple guidelines to follow which will have you reeling them in in no time. Catching fish can be really easy to do if one has the correct equipment, location, weather, and presentation.
This weekend my family is going out to dinner to celebrate my mom's 43rd birthday. We plan on going to Granite City in St. Cloud. After my father shall drive us to our fishing spot for fishing opener. We will start fishing for catfish that are as slavish as earthworms. Walleye and Pike are not open until 12 at night, that is pretty late for me. We like to use shrimp for bait, expensive I know. At midnight we will start casting for Walleyes with rustic lures, Walleyes always seem to be intimidating us with their soul piercing eyes. Fatigue consumes us before that though, we are not late night people. Since our family has done so great at our fishing spot, therefore i'm not allowed to give away the spot so secret the FBI does
I’ve always found fishing to be kind of boring. I hate having to wait for the fish to snag your line, and it is even more irritating when I see a really nice size fish but just can’t get it to bite. I never thought there would be a much more exciting way to get the fish. The thing is I hadn’t even heard about bowfishing until about a year or two ago when one of my friends invited me to go out with him. I was just watching and learning for that trip, I never even got a chance to shoot a fish. However, I could still feel the excitement when my friend caught a fish and I knew that I wanted to make this new found sport of bowfishing a hobby of mine. I decided I would buy my own boat, my own setup and learn all I can about this sport so I could be ready for when I took myself and
It was early morning when me and Santiago walked down to the beach. He had woken me up a little time before. The day before I told Santiago that I wished I could go with him. But he told me to go with the lucky boats. He hadn't caught a fish in forty some days. I wanted to go but my father had forbid it. On the way down to the beach he told me that he was going far out to sea. I had always helped him carry his rigging or harpoon. Just like this morning. I was confident in him and that he could handle any fish or the sea.
Whether you fish for trout and other fish, bait is one area that you must not leave. When undertaking the interview process trout fishing trip, bear in mind the bait matters a great deal if you want to hook a nice-sized trout. Part on the art of trout fishing is applying the right bait at the correct time.
Making my way down the side of the house, I climb over and around the never ending rugged and giant rocks on which the house is built on. As I carefully walk closer to the water, I feel the power of the water as the wind from the waves blow through my being like a breath from God. Looking down, all around me are numerous tide pools filled with various seal life such as sea urchins, anemones, star fish, and even different kinds of fish. The excitement of picking up a star fish, feeling the billions of tentacles latching on to my skin, is a memory I can never forget. After I have my fair share of climbing the rocks, my family and I walk around the close-knit community. Along the streets there is foliage abound, and in that are blackberry bushes. We always pick them and savor their sweet flavor, but do not appreciate the red stains on our hands and fingers. Along the way, we spot additional deer hiding in the brush or roaming the open grass. We head back to the house as the sun begins to set, glistening over the water as the sky turns red and
“Dad!” I semi-screamed over the roar of the motor, “What bait should I put on my hook?” I was getting my rod ready so I could be the first one to cast out.
“There are some monsters in here!” my dad exclaimed. We fished for about six hours straight and didn’t catch anything but a couple of small Perch and a turtle. “How long are we going to stay out here? I starting to smell like a fish just sitting here.” I told my dad. He replied: “Can we just wait a couple more minutes? I know there are some really big ones in here.” So we waited about ten or so minutes, and nothing. Then out of nowhere my line went screaming in the water. “Hey! Dad, come over here I got one!” I yelled. “Hold on tight son, I'm coming!” my dad said. My dad came and he told me what to do, and together we managed to pull in the biggest Gar I had ever
Our first fishing stop was on the Miramichi where we tried our luck against the Atlantic salmon the largest type of salmon. Unfortunately I didn’t land the fish of my life that day, however my dad did it was a twenty five pound salmon that fought for nearly an hour. I am very privileged to have had the chance to try my luck at catching this incredible fish. After leaving New Brunswick we arrived at Prince Edward Island, shortly after unpacking our bags we set out to get fishing permits for the area. We met up with some locals who I had met as a baby and got directions to the local trout stream. This was a top secret location that only a few of the islanders had ever fished, it was the honey hole. My brother and I fished downstream while my dad worked his way into the deeper waters. At days end we all caught about fifteen to thirty fish a piece, on a stream no wider than a two lane road. The next spot we fished was across the channel In Nova Scotia. We went out on a small skiff on a fairly big mountain lake fishing for pike. It started off slow but as the day progressed we started to catch more and more. Pike fight hard and take line out fast it’s quite thrilling to catch one. Later that evening we returned to our cottage and my dad wanted to take my brother and me to the first fishing spot we had ever been to. It was a small family operated trout pond where you pay per pound of fish you pull out of the water.