“Sitting on the beam of the trestle, just watching the striped bass roll on in” – Not Otis Redding
Fishing, for the most part, is an exercise in physics.
Once you hook the fish you have to reel it in. And depending on what perch you have chosen to cast from – a boat, a bank, a dilapidated train trestle – the tricky part can be taking said fish out of the water and onto whatever dry land you have at your disposal.
Well, if you’re the group of guys spotted fishing from the Mossdale Bridge recently, dry land was actually some cracked creosote railroad ties and slick iron beams used to keep a landmark that dates back to 1869 still standing upright.
And while this isn’t exactly prime fishing real estate for a number of reasons – not the least of which is the fact that trespassing on the bridge carries a stiff penalty – when I saw the photo I still had to stop and ask the one question that begged asking.
Do they just hoist the fish up when they catch it?
I’m no professional angler. I’ve probably lost more tackle in my day than I’ve ever been able to use appropriately, but I do enjoy the quiet that comes with fishing alone. So I scratch my head and wonder how these forward-thinking fisherman plan on pulling out a decent sized fish when they’re holding their line – which, unless you’re using braided line or something ridiculously thick – straight up and down out of the water.
You know, the whole physics thing of it all.
But maybe they’re onto something. Maybe they can see a school running and know exactly where to have their lines to attract the fish that are in transition.
And maybe it’s just a group of guys sitting up there having a good laugh while people like me take a look in their garage to see if they have what it takes to get in a session before the railroad bulls chase me off.
Well, there really isn’t anywhere to go but straight into a trespassing ticket. And man that would be less than choice – especially when you had the world record right up to the beam before the swivel gave way and it dropped the considerable drop straight back down into the muddy water.
I’ve fished in some strange places before – from the pond across the street from Bass Pro to a concrete aqueduct that supplies water into one of the most pristine fly-fishing areas in Northern California. And I’ve done well at both – pulled a four-pound bass out of that little pond, and limited out 45 minutes after dropping in my line into that cement chute.
Maybe these guys were onto something similar. Mossdale has long been a favorite fishing destination for locals looking to get their line wet without making a drive up to the mountains.
So the next time you pass by the Mossdale Bridge and see feet dangling off and pole tips extended, don’t fear – they’re just ahead of the curve.
Sitting on the beam of the trestle, wasting time.