Is fishing fun, or just funny?

People who don’t fish, or simply have no interest in this ancient sport, are really missing out in many ways. I reckon you golfers out there are probably saying the same thing about your rabid passion for chasing a little white ball for hours on end. So what’s the difference? Ah ha, I’ll tell you.

As far as I know, golf balls aren’t edible, while most fish are a highly sought-after food source. When I was contemplating what on earth to write about after nearly a week of solid rain, my mind wandered to some of the unusual, and often hilarious, experiences I have witnessed while angling.

of golf. But the situations that came to mind would never, ever happen on a golf course. Here are just a few examples.

One that still tickles my funny bone occurred a few years back when I took a boat captain out fishing for redfish. You would think a boat captain might be an experienced angler, but not this captain. Other than fishing for freshwater largemouth bass, he was a saltwater fishing neophyte.

He was excited about the prospect of catching his first redfish, so I took him to one of my favorite spots. Most of you have probably caught a largemouth bass or two, so you know that when a bass hits, you rear back on the rod as hard as you can to set the hook. Right?

For saltwater redfish, this technique is a no-no.

Using larger baits for redfish, rearing back simply pulls the hook, especially circle hooks, and bait right out of the fish’s mouth. Even though I told him repeatedly to simply reel when a redfish hit, his freshwater background of ripping the face off fish left him, well, fishless.

The rig I used had a 2-ounce egg-shaped sinker and a one-foot leader connected to the hook, and this is when it happened.

As I coached him, I saw his rod tip bounce once and knew a redfish had grabbed the bait.

“Let him eat it and I’ll tell you when to reel,” I said.

“All right, now reel!”

And as if I hadn’t told him over and over not to haul back, he hauled back so hard that I saw the egg sinker, leader and hook exit the water at what had to be 40 mph and smack him square in the middle of the forehead, knocking him out momentarily.
Four days later I saw him again, and there was a perfect imprint of that sinker in his forehead, including the barely visible number and letters “2 oz.” Perfect.

If you have ever touched or held fish, you know how different they feel from species to species. Some, like sharks, are rough like sandpaper, while others like trout are rather slimy. But one fish takes the cake as the slipperiest of them all, and that has to be the flounder.

You’d better have a landing net when landing a large flounder because there is no way on earth to reach down and grab one. A wet bar of soap doesn’t compare, nor does a greased pig. At least you can grab a greased pig’s feet, but a flounder is more slippery than pig’s snot.

With that said, I once had a run-in with probably the largest flounder I have ever hooked. It was so big that when I first caught a glimpse of it underwater, I thought it was a stingray.

Once I realized it was a flounder, I got so excited my heart began pounding out of my chest and my vision actually got blurry. I’ve heard of this happening to deer hunters when a huge buck steps into range, but with a flounder, never.

As I carefully worked the monster flounder closer and closer, all I could think about was how my fishing buddies would react. If I landed this giant, I would surely be the undisputed Flounder King.

Finally ready to land the beast, I reached behind me with my free hand for my landing net.

It wasn’t there.

I had forgotten to grab it from my car.

Terrified the line would break, I had no choice but to gently drag the flounder up the bank. Just as I reached the highest point, the flounder went nuts, broke my line and started flopping toward the water.
Instantly I jumped on it, and the two of us wrestled as we rolled toward the water.

The would-be Flounder King lost — big time.

With fish slime from head to toe, I watched that doormat-sized flounder lazily swim away. All I can say is that if that fight had been filmed, it most definitely would have gone viral.

In retrospect, all you can do is cry or laugh.

If I remember correctly, I did both.

Collins Doughtie is a 60-year resident of the Lowcountry, is a sportsman, graphic artist, and lover of nature. collinsdoughtie@icloud.com