The smooth water slides down the beach sprawling out like black ink until it meets the moonless, charred horizon haze. Eyes shutter to dilate, sucking in what little light the stars offer, struggling to put form to figures. First steps into the endless black slick are met by squeaking pebbles rolling to conform to the foot. The other four senses are heightening as the eyes continually struggle with black. Surf salt fills the air, warm breezes swirl the body, and a faint wash slips up and down the water's edge. The whole body strains and yearns to identify conventional signs of quarry. Void of the long-established guidance, fingers begin to sense the warn cork grip which settles and re-centers the mind. Instinctually, the fluid casting motion begins, soliciting the line to jump off the arbor into a sea of nothing. The line lays motionless somewhere in the night. A methodic slow, steady cadence begins retrieving the temptation across the black glass. Seconds feel like hours as the unhurried retrieval continues and the body anticipates a shattering of silence. Feeling one cast end begins the relaxing, familiar motion of the next. Repeating the silent casts and feeling the rhythmic retrieve lulls the mind, bringing forth serenity that is only felt in absence. That serenity continues as silence canvases the water.

THA-THUP! Shivers streak up the legs, across the chest, ending in a pounding heart; struck by the guttural eeriness. Again, THA-THUMP! The mind fights to regain composure. Again, THA-THUMP! The ears tense, straining to identify direction.

Gripping the rod handle a quick natural snap of the wrist occurs, almost void of thought. Hands quiver as the wrists struggle to maintain the methodically lethargic presentation required. The creature swirls and slurps far from the surface!

THA-THUMP, Zip. . .Zip. . . Zip! Line tenses with fervor as it peals though fingers and drag with ease. The rod presses into the hip and forearm under the sheer strength of the monster's desire to escape his miscalculation. Adrenaline pumps as eyes search for any indication, but fail in the absence of light. Splash, Zip. . .Zip. The massive prey dances without an audience. He battles to find rocks, a ledge, strong current, or anything to release himself. Biceps start to ball and the shoulders begins to burn. Zip. . .Zip. . .Zip the gladiator fights on, challenging its pursuer with persistent action. The rod begins working up and sliding down in a common motion that wears the prey while pulling line back inch by inch. Every inch is met with unwavering resistance. Zip. . .Zip. . . splash! A glint of light reflecting off the water spray encourages a resultant pursuit and reinvigorates the legs. Feet begin to dig into the sand and push against the creature's insistent force. An arduous retreat back the beach produces splashes in the wash; somewhat seen by the eye, but mostly felt through a dancing rod.

Perching the beast on the sand provides a moment to restore the senses and clear the mind. The break is hurried by the monster's tail flap and push to find new waters. Rapidly, feet push towards the quarry while the hands retrieve the last remaining inches of line. With the battle concluded, a long anticipated flick of the head lamp switch reveals the creature that goes THA-THUP in the night.

Matthew Risser with 35" Striped Bass