WATERLINES I BYEDMITCHELL he Outer Lands Returning to a place and a friendship, and wondering why you didn't return sooner ..^ . ,^

LOCK ISLAND. THE NATURE fish early and late. And the fishing is good, fish. 1 don't know why I hadn't been back Consei-vancy calls it one of the dude. The striper bite cranked last week, in so long. I have missed those days. Blast great places in the Western and the catching continues. Get oi^er here. Hemisphere. It rides in the mist 13 miles I'll get you hooked up." Pete insisted. off the coast and is part of "Hey, Pete, good to hear from you, I.n terms of angling, I trusted Pete the Outer Lands, a broken archipelago man. You're on the Block? Wow, lucky you. wholly, and if he said there are bass on stretching from Montauk to Marthas I'd love to come oi'er. It's been a while. Let Block, I had to get there. So, the day after Vineyard, , and . Each me look at the weather and make plans. I'll he called, I checked the long-range fore• piece was born in the dying days of a gla• be back in touch soon. Thanks for the call," cast, picked a two-day window, and called cier that once gripped the continent. With 1 answered. my friend loan, and asked if she wanted enormous force, it reshaped everything in Pete is a hard-core fly fishing fanatic, to join me for a couple days on the island. its path, only to end its epic journey here a never-say-die and passionate fly angler She agreed. We made a reservation, and along the Adantic. And ever since, the who is so dedicated to the sport that it the following week we pointed ourselves Outer Lands have remained in the tide, at steers his life in both seen and unseen ways. at Point Judith to catch the the ragged edge of an ice age. Fly fishing lives in his blood and his brain. ferry out of the fishing village of Galilee. Ifirst fly fished Block back in die 1980s He and 1 had fished together many At the ferry, we climbed the stairs and and, up to a point, returned many times. times. Several years ago, I lived in Rhode parked ourselves on the upper deck. Clear For more reasons than I care to explain, Island, and one fall Pete and I worked and calm, it was a perfect day to head to however, I hadn't been back in a God's age, every grain of sand between Watch Hill sea. Eventually, the cliffs of Clay Head but then one evening not long ago, I re• and Matunuck. It was a hit-and-miss rose to greet us. Located on the Block's ceived a phone call from Capt. Pete FarreU. adventure, as shore fishing is apt to be. northeastern shore, they were majestic in "Man, Em on Block for the summer. Still, we had some terrific hours with bass the morning light, a glowing 100-foot- Got a gig towing tourists on the banana and blues ripping through the surf. We high palisade. Walking to starboard, we boat. Worldng all week, but 1 have time to wore ourselves out, fighting tides, fighting (Continued on page 71)

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(Continued from page 72} and I worked on IPAs. A talker by nature, rode a magnetic post, the rod tips angling watched them glide by and memories of Pete delivered his typical blue streak. rearward over the windshield. While in great times came flooding in on high tide. Having once lived on Block and guided the fi-ont seat, a large patch of flies jutted After checking into the hotel, we here often, he has deep and extensive from the dash. His truck served as rolling enjoyed a summer day on the town beach. knowledge of the island. Joan and I storage for his fly tackle. Pete called around 4 p.m., and he asked us leaned, listening with interest as Pete Soon, we were in a flats boat racing to meet him at the charter docks around rattled on. You could tell he loved it here. over Great Salt Pond. If there were fish 5:30. Joan and I got there a touch early and You can stay on Block Island for only so to be found—no question—Pete would saw the banana boat unload. As people long before going native. put me on them. He is an excellent guide. shuffled past, I spied Pete down the dock "See many fly rodders on Block these Upon entering a cove, Pete killed the tying off the towboat. Seconds later, he days?" 1 asked Pete. engine, gave me a thumbs-up, and leaped moved toward us but had yet to see us. "Nah... Not like years ago. The to the poling platform. I picked up my fly Built like a halfback, he moved with an single-malt dudes show up now and then. rod and stripped out line. economy of motion, slow and steady, a You know... the guys who can cast ten In the early light, the sandy bottom man confident of his way. Glancing up, he feet. There are a few fly rodders living through the prism of the water shone spotted me, beamed a big smile, and then here, too. But most of them don't have yellow gold before giving way to the flipped me the bird. game," Pete offered. greens of deeper water. It was a familiar "Hey, man! Good you see you!" Pete "Booking charters?" I inquired. scene and a reminder of other special yelled, with a now outstretched palm. "Hell yeah. Got charters booked next places among the Outer Lands that easily "Great to see you, Captain! This is my week. And things will pick up once the compare to the beauty of Menemsha, friend Joan," I answered while shaking bonito show." Pete smiled "There are a few Monomoy, or Nauset. his hand. around the island. My friend saw one in the We saw a couple of bass in the first "Nice to meet you, Joan. Turns out, I wake behind the banana boat yesterday." cove, and 1 got one shot but didn't con• got a few loose ends to finish here. How "What about the bass bite?" I inquired. nect. So, we moved and started the search about I meet you guys on Water Street for "Man, some big bass on the reefs over. And within a minute or two, Pete a cold beer, say in fifteen minutes?" Pete around the island. Last week, on spin• broke the good news. suggested. ning gear we put four in the boat in one "Eleven o'clock. Swimming at us." "Sure. Sounds like a plan," I said. day. AH of them over twenty pounds. "Can't see him yet." I replied. As Joan and I headed up the hill Got shots of me releasing them," Pete "Moving left now. Point your rod," toward Water Street, she glanced up at me said, reaching for his cell. He found the Pete instructed. "More to the left." with wide-eyed astonishment. pictures, then held out his phone and I pointed the rod left, but still had not "I can't believe he flipped you the scrolled through the images. "They're in seen the fish. bird!" Joan exclaimed. twenty-plus feet of water, but we might "He just went over the dark bottom at "That's his standard heUo. Don't take it get a fly down to them." the shore's edge," Pete announced. "Wait a the wrong way. He does it to get a rise out "Those are beasts," 1 said, staring. "Got second, let's see what he does. Okay, okay of people." I grinned. bass on the beach, too?" ... He is turning back toward us now." "Wow. Really? Pete's a character!" Joan "Sure. It's a night bite. I had one of A striper slid into sight—^the water laughed. almost fifteen pounds not long ago." so clear, I could count its stripes. Flexing As we walked, I told her more about "Let's do some beach fishing, like old the rod, I placed the fly a few feet ahead Pete. Born in of Irish descent, times... or is there any chance we can of the fish and allowed it to sink before Pete has always been irreverent, opinion• sight-fish in the Great Salt Pond instead? beginning a retrieve. On the first strip, ated, never controlled by anything other Would love to do that!" I exclaimed. the fish shot forward and clamped down. than his own passions and whims. Yet "Hey... I have access to a flats boat, Surging off to the south, it stole line as the as tough as Pete comes across, he hides a and we got a decent tide for the pond reel handle spun. The lime green backing heart of gold. And as much as he pokes tomorrow morning. Why not? I'll pick began to show, and Pete popped off the fiin at the world, Pete can take it. At home, you up around eight a.m. in front of the poling platform to shake my hand. I have his business card from years ago hotel," Pete said. "It's been a long time coming. Too when he guided flill-time on Block. On the In the morning, I was sitting out• long." front is a self-portrait of sorts, a cartoon of side when Pete pulled up in his ancient Back on the Outer Lands. Back on a red-bearded, demonic-looking angler in Jeep. 1 greeted him, lifted the tailgate, Block. Back fishing with Pete. ^ waders, boasting huge buckteeth. Topping and stowed my stuff, which blended in it off, Pete wryly named his guide service with Pete's jumble of fly gear: stripping Ed Mitchell has 50 years of fly-fishing expe• Blockhead Charters. baskets, tackle bags, waders, foul-weather rience. He is the author of 4 books on the subject Later the three of us sat at the bar in jackets, reels, and fly boxes stacked to the and has written for numerous magazines. See the Mohegan Cafe. Joan sipped wine; Pete ceiling. On the hood, a team of fly rods more of his work atedmitchelloutdoors.com.

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