So, we took up a collection of sweatshirts and rain jackets, saddled up, and throttled out to Turkey Point. The rain was more of a mist, with no electricity within sight or earshot, and the layers of clothing were more than enough to ward off the chill.
Spirits were high as we set up on our first drift. Jokes were made about the weather and the fact we were the only souls on the water. We were "real men." ...Until the wind picked up and brought with it the sort of rain you hear pounding the sea's surface long before it hits you in sheets.
Just as the "real men" were questioning the situation, Capt. Mike set the hook on a 22-inch red that was quickly followed by a spotty barrage of trout and more reds over the course of an hour. Most of the strikes were out of frenzy, but we still managed to bag four tournament-worthy trout.
The rain, forgotten, soon became a factor again when the fish had had enough. Soaked to the skin and hungry, we made a frigid run back to the house, calling ahead to make sure there were plenty of hot drinks waiting when we arrived. Nothing like pan-fried trout and hot coffee to kill off a January chill.
Moral: The fish don't stay in on a rainy day. Get out there and you'll have a good story to tell the landlubbers on Monday.