Fish like “Crazy” - Surfcasting with “Crazy” Alberto Knie
“I'm not like them but I can pretend.
The sun is gone, but I have a light.
The day is done, I'm having fun
I think I'm dumb or maybe just happy.”
- Nirvana “Dumb”
The sun is gone, but I have a light.
The day is done, I'm having fun
I think I'm dumb or maybe just happy.”
- Nirvana “Dumb”
There are some stories that are too special to tell, and you keep them in your heart. Or maybe there’s the perfect moment where you raise your camera only to put it back down so you can truly savor the moment. I know this is gibberish, but hell, it’s as good a start as any and I need to get the ball rolling here. This is a story I simply have no desire to write, because it was one of those special moments in time, but I feel I owe it to my teacher and friend to share with you my honest impression of Crazy Alberto Knie and surfcasting in general.
Many times as a child, my mother would tell me “You are too big for your britches, young lady.” She was right, to a degree. I never really knew what I was getting into and I was never afraid of anything. I did what I wanted without regard to my stature, inexperience, or hazards that might be in the way. Here is a prime example of being too big for my britches. I have decided to embark on an extreme surfcasting adventure with one of the world’s top surfcasters without any real experience except for throwing a chunk of bait out maybe 20’ as a kid on a mild, sandy, East End bay as a child.
My false sense of security comes from the epic trips I have taken with Jen fighting big feisty bitches of fish with PMS. I feel I can hold my own, since I am now a proper team member of a fishing team and have done well at the scales a few times. I have seen big waves, I have hung with the big boys, and I’ve caught some nasty motherf*ckers. I was feeling a little bit full of myself, really. So, why should surfcasting be a challenge? To be honest, it’s not. Surfcasting is extraordinarily easy. Throw your line in the water, reel it back, and maybe get a fish if the stars are aligned on that alternate Tuesday of the Fall Equinox and your lucky rabbit‘s foot is carefully placed in your right pocket. I know there are surfcasters reading this that are turning red in the face, saying “What the f$ck does she know?” Well, now I know enough to get me into trouble with y’all. Surfcasting is easy. Surfcasting WELL, however, is not.
Prepare ye to be pissed some more. I know I am not alone in my initial impression of surfcasting. To me, surfcasters either couldn’t afford a boat, or maybe they were too lazy to get all of their sh!t together and get out on one. Either way, it seemed like a very lazy way to go fishing; a last resort of sorts. I wondered how surfcasters could have so much attitude, really, and thought they are likely the first to be seasick on a boat. I didn’t think it could really be something I would like or that it was exciting at all. It wasn’t appealing to me in the slightest.
“This year you'll sit and take it
And you will like it - It's the gentle art of making enemies”
- Faith No More “The Gentle Art of Making Enemies”
And you will like it - It's the gentle art of making enemies”
- Faith No More “The Gentle Art of Making Enemies”
I had no idea what I was getting into, nor did I have any idea of who “Albie” really is (think BIG BRITCHES). I accepted his offer to fish and I believe my words were “Bring it on, b!tch,” and “Try your hardest, Mr. Knie.” Yes. In hindsight, I was quite an a$$hole to one of the best of the best. To my credit, (hopefully) I had no idea of his celebrity status as a fisherman, and I am still not sure I truly understand his magnitude. We struck up an instant bond and would spend hours talking about fishing over the phone. He seemed to be the only person who truly understood my passion for fishing, and shared it equally. He suggested I should come to New York to try my hand at surfcasting for stripers and experience the “Thrill of the hunt.” He was so passionate about it, I couldn’t resist and a flight was booked. There had to be something more to this easy-breezy-Japanesey surfcasting than I thought, and my curiosity was piqued.
To those who know Alberto, it is no secret that he is one of the most passionate, kind, patient, and friendly people in the fishing world. He truly is crazy in that he never sleeps and suffers from an advanced level of the disease “Fish brain.” That is really all he thinks about, even though he can easily converse about any damned near subject you throw his way. Anyone who has the privilege of knowing him is truly better for it. As a person, he is high-hook; as a fisherman, he simply cannot be topped.
Our first night of surfcasting together was an adventure. This is a true story, though many of you will doubt me. One thing you should know about my writing by this point is that I don’t sugar coat the truth. If the fishing sucked, I will tell you. You expect the truth and I will give you the respect to give it to you straight up, no chaser. Ok, on with the story…
“Blinded by the light, revved up like a deuce another runner in the night.”
- Manfred Mann “Blinded by the Light”
- Manfred Mann “Blinded by the Light”
In the parking lot, I asked Alberto to show me how to rig the outfit. 60# braid, 60# flourocarbon leader, roughly 5’. An “Alberto” knot to pair it up, a clip to top the cake, and a rubber shad acting as the proverbial cherry on top. I told him next time we fished, I want to rig this myself. He agreed.
We made our way across the jetty (location = TOP SECRET). I am feeling pretty goofy in my impromptu outfit of neoprene waders with Xtratufs over them. Alberto gave me a belt with a little bag and I felt suddenly like Bob the Builder but maybe not as attractive and certainly less conventional. I looked at him and thought instantly of Inspector Gadget with his belted bag, his cutters, and the flashlight around his neck. “His ass looks huge in those waders… Well, here it goes,” I thought. He went ahead of me and made his way quickly across the uneven rocks. I carefully plotted my way, going much slower, listening to the large waves crash around me. I felt a rush of excitement as I envisioned myself in the game of Frogger, planning each move from rock to rock. I thought to myself that I could possibly be the first person to die on their very first surfcasting experience on this jetty. The Super Mario theme suddenly filled my head and I couldn’t shake it. I hopped and skipped rock to rock with my short little legs.
“There she is. The Atlantic. I‘m home,” I said to nobody in particular. It was after 2am and the tide had been carefully calculated repeatedly. It wasn’t a prime moon phase to fish, but Alberto was convinced he could find the fish.
Alberto stopped in his tracks. “There’s someone at the front.”
“Where?” I asked as I blinded the fisherman by pointing the flashlight directly in his eyes.
“Don’t ever do that!” Alberto scolded.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see him, I didn’t know.”
“That’s a no-no. His eyes are adjusted to the dark and you blinded him. It is dangerous.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know there were rules.”
“Yes, there are rules. You will learn them.”
Alberto said something to the angry fisherman as he stormed off the jetty and the man I offended muttered “there’s no f#cking fish here.” Ugh. I chased him off. Sorry, angry fisherman. I truly did not know, and I promise not to do it again. However, you were wrong. Please read on.
We made our way to the point. Alberto showed me how to use his equipment. I was to use a Zeebaas which doesn’t have a bail like I am used to and a custom rod that was nearly twice the size of anything I had ever handled. He showed me the motion of the cast and how to use the reel. He discussed the features in the water to identify and what they meant as well as his selection of lures; he showed me the rate of retrieval. “Then you reel in the fish like so.” Yes. His first cast. Let me back up the story. Alberto told Jen and I he wanted to catch a cocktail sized striper for the dinner table hours earlier. He spread his arms and said, “I want to catch one this size.” Guess what he caught on his first cast? Yup.
At this point, I thought I was 100% correct. Surfcasting is truly easy. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson and have come to respect you. In fact, I salute you. “I am hooked,” as the slogan for Alberto’s company “Tactical Angler’s” states.
Alberto said, “This is a good spot. Fish here,” and walked away. I worked the spot for an hour without a bite. This is the moment you have been waiting for, surfcasters. This is where I changed my mind about the sport. This is the point I realized I was a giant idiot who had no real understanding of anything. There was something more to this than I had initially realized. Alberto thoughtfully came up to me and asked “How are you doing?”
“Not so good. Show me the cast again?”
He obliged. Things started clicking in my brain. His previous words flooded my brain and I started to get these dangerous things called “ideas” and “questions.”
Mind you, there are no stupid questions, but the world is filled with inquisitive idiots. I suddenly found myself as the president of the Inquisitive Idiot Club, and Alberto entertained and answered each ridiculous question after another. “You were listening,” he stated and flashed a quick smile.
“Yes, I was, but now I have more questions.” This man has the patience of a saint, I tell you. Like a cheesy infomercial, “If I can learn the Alberto School of fishing, you can too!”
I made a cast and it went twice as far. “Nice cast!”
“Not like YOURS. How do you get that whipping sound?”
“Let the rod do the work for you.”
“Gonna be some sweet sounds coming down on the nightshift“
- Commodores “Night Shift”
- Commodores “Night Shift”
There were physics involved suddenly. I found myself thinking about where he released the lure, the trajectory, the angles, the lever motion of his arms, the punch of his body movements. He walked away and cast about 20’ away from me. I studied his cast. His cast seemed to me an orchestra of art and science. I emulated his movements. I cast probably thirty times, watching the ripping tide only feet below us. A wave struck the rocks and splashed up to my waist. I was looking at the features of the water and watching the incoming waves that would occasionally slap up to my knees. The ripples, waves, and chop all had a personality that spoke of the features below. Instead of a wild mess, I began to see the subtleties. I found myself enchanted by the water and suddenly “WHHIIIIPPPP!”
“I heard THAT!” Alberto exclaimed.
“Was that ME?!?”
“Yes, it was!”
“Holy sh!t, I did it!”
“Yes, you did!”
My arm didn’t feel like it was going to fall off anymore, and suddenly I had a sense of purpose. I had learned the very basic cast and I had tripled my very weak “toss.” I didn’t catch sh!t at this point, but I was feeling enthusiastic and humbled at the same moment. I realized it looked easy because Alberto is truly a master of his craft. There is a “feel” and a technique involved. Surfcasting is much like a Transformer - “More than meets the eye.”
Alberto walked over to me and instructed, “That’s how you cast. Do you feel the difference?”
“I made the sound! I LOVE that sound!”
“Yes, it’s a good sound,” he said smiling broadly.
“So, the water. Can I ask you about that?”
“Of course.”
“Why did you chose this spot? What features did you look for?”
“Ahhh… That is the best question you have asked all night.”
“Well, I remember what you were saying about reading the water, and different currents meeting. Why this spot?”
“Do you see where the rip meets the calmer water? That’s where the fish feed.”
“Why?”
“Bass are opportunistic feeders. You can tell by the tail. It is broom like instead of crescent like you find in pelagic fish who chase down their prey. They wait in calmer areas and wait for the baitfish to pass and feed on them. Like a rotating buffet in a diner, but instead, it‘s baitfish. The fish will hide behind and beside rocks, that‘s why they are called ‘Rockfish‘ in some areas. They watch the buffet go around and take a little of this and a little of that.”
Click. Click. Click. My brain started to flashback to a conversation with an Inspector I work with named Brian who asked two weeks prior, “You’re fishing for rockfish, then?” I ignorantly responded, “No, we are going for striped bass.” Click. Click. Click.
“What do they feed on?”
“Porgies, crabs, brim, needlefish, bunka (bunker) and baitfish local to this area.”
“So, there’s a rock there?”
“Bingo.”
I made a mental note of what this looked like.
“So, I’m looking for two features meeting each other? The fish like transitional water?”
“Ahhh… you understand now. Your casting is much better.”
“Thanks. I was watching you for a while. I tried to copy you the best I could. It’s not as easy as it looks!”
“I’ve been doing this for years. What did you do differently? I already know.”
“Well, I was thinking about the water and thinking about the third law of motion.”
“You relaxed.”
A long silent pause. “Huh. I guess I did.”
“Try the other side.” I winked at him and sauntered away feeling pretty damned proud of myself for learning the WHHHHIP.
“Straddle the line in discord and rhyme, I'm on the hunt I'm after you.
Mouth is alive with juices like wine, and I'm hungry like the wolf.”
- Duran Duran “Hungry like the Wolf”
Mouth is alive with juices like wine, and I'm hungry like the wolf.”
- Duran Duran “Hungry like the Wolf”
This time, Alberto did not tell me where to fish. I carefully studied the water. I was left to my own judgment. After a small eternity, I picked my poison. I found a spot I liked that reminded me of the tri-state area - three different features meeting. It felt right to my spidey senses. Alberto fished 30’ or so away from me.
Here’s the epiphany. I felt the whipping wind on my face and felt the spray of the salt. There wasn’t a soul except for me and my new hero Alberto. I understood, finally, the romanticism of waking up at ungodly hours and fishing for hours on end. I felt like I was suddenly closer to fishing than I had ever been before short of diving in the water and wrestling the damn things. There was no fish finder. There was no captain to tell me where the fish were. There were no GPS locations, shows of bait fish, downriggers, temperature or depth displays. It’s true and pure fishing. I felt like I understood the appeal finally and it was love at first sight. I felt like a mighty huntress in my moment. My head was held a little higher and I suddenly didn’t care that there were no fish under my belt. I understood. Alberto moved closer to my right. He cast a few times and moved to my left.
“Why did you chose this spot?” he asked.
“There’s the calm water, meeting the running water, meeting the ripply water?” I answered suddenly doubting my carefully chosen real estate (at this point, I am not feeling so tough and smarty pants anymore).
“This is a perfect spot. There’s fish there. Keep working it.”
He moved closer to the point again.
“If you want it, here it is come and get it
Mmmm, make your mind up fast
If you want it, anytime I can give it
But you better hurry cause it may not last
Did I hear you say that there must be a catch?”
- Bad finger “Come and Get it”
Mmmm, make your mind up fast
If you want it, anytime I can give it
But you better hurry cause it may not last
Did I hear you say that there must be a catch?”
- Bad finger “Come and Get it”
Jerk. Jerk jerk. My eyes widened, my pulse quickened, and I lurched forward suddenly. I quickly set the hook, thinking maybe I was too late. “Hehehehe… fish on,” I thought to myself. I slowly brought her to the jetty, trying to fight her as smoothly as possible. Captain Billy’s voice echoed in my head “Smooth is fast.” I didn’t tell Alberto about my fish because I don’t want him to see me screw it up and lose it. Smooth. Patient. She pulled off a little line and I let her take what she wanted and smoothly reeled her back in, being mindful of my tip and my angle to the fish. There were a few head shakes that felt very nice. A little more line out. A little more line in. More head banging action.
Alberto shocked me. He was no more than two feet away from me. Do not underestimate the sneakiness of this China man. I will be completely stereotypical here and call him a ninja on these rocks.
“What’s going on here? You have a fish.”
“Yes, I think I do.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to count my chickens before they hatched.”
“What’s wrong with you? I’ll get it. Fishkilla. Ha!”
Alberto made his way down the precarious rocks and I thought for sure he would be swept away by one of the rough waves. I watched as he climbed down like a cat, waited for a wave, leadered the fish and swung it up as he climbed back onto the jetty in two swift movements.
“Great job. She’s a keeper, you know.”
“Yeah?”
“Look at her.”
I admired her scales and studied the broom tail and the pectoral fins.
“She’s beautiful.”
“The choice is yours.”
A long, dark, pregnant pause. I shifted a few times.
“She goes back.”
“Good choice,” Alberto said proudly.
Alberto climbed back down on the rocks and swished her around and released this beautiful fish that I suddenly grew to love and respect. It was a lot of work to catch her and it somehow felt wrong to kill such a beautiful specimen.
Alberto hooked into his second fish shortly after. If a large bass is called a “cow” this was surely a moose. He released her, but she struggled, swimming back at the rocks. I didn’t see exactly what he did, but he went down to the rocks, muttering “sh!t, she’s not going to make it.” It was weird to hear him curse, since that is my job as the pirate bitch. I knew he was truly upset to take her life. He hoisted her onto the rocks. He was muttering some more.
When Alberto grabbed his rod and began to reel it up and pack, I picked her up by the tail and slammed her head against the rocks.
“That was the right thing to do,” he said quietly.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t see it.”
“Do you want to fish more?”
“No, I’m good. I caught a nice fish. I’m happy.”
“I may be disturbed...but won’t you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream.”
- Five for Fighting “Superman”
Even heroes have the right to dream.”
- Five for Fighting “Superman”
Alberto drove me to a spot, got out of the car, and motioned for me to follow. “I want to show you something.” I cannot reveal to you our location, but I can tell you that there were baitfish cracking the surface of the calm water.
“We will not drop a line here. These are my pets. Do you see the bait fish? There is something underneath them. Here is the full chain. You cannot write about the location of this spot.”
“Agreed.”
Suddenly, a good sized striper struck the surface and the fish jumped.
“Did you see that?”
“Yes, what are they feeding on?”
“Needlefish.”
“This is magical. Thank you for showing me this.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
We quietly watched the stripers feed and it occurred to me how much he truly loves these fish. He could have keeper stripers anytime he wants, yet he is like a lone wolf in the hours when we are sleeping, hunting and seeking the trophy fish and trying to top his best. I secretly wondered to myself if it’s really the fish he is hunting or something else. What was he really searching for and hunting relentlessly? What fuels this noctivagant and elusive man to swim to distant rocks out of reach by most of us? I would never ask and never know. The Atlantic whispers it’s answers without saying a word. She is mysterious that way, whether by land or boat. She is an oracle and will give you answers you seek. Be careful what you ask, because she will never tell a lie.
We arrived at Jen’s house early in the morning and sat on her patio as I smoked cigarettes. He was visibly very upset about losing his fish. I told him about my first amberjack I caught in Biloxi and how I worried it didn’t live. He nodded thoughtfully and seemed to understand. I don’t think my words helped him, but I felt he understood that I knew what he was feeling. I felt helpless. I wanted to cheer him up. I stopped babbling and asking and sat there in silence as the birds busied themselves with uppity chirps.
“So,” he leaned in, “what would you have done differently?”
“I wouldn’t have sucked so badly,” I mustered. Alberto has a hearty laugh that I am lucky to know. He let loose and tossed his head back. “I wouldn’t have been casting into those rocks, first of all. It felt like I was always stuck!!!” He laughed again.
“Good idea. Yeeeessssss?” Alberto continued.
“I noticed how you quickly picked up the slack in your line, slowed your retrieve, and sped up when you got closer to the jetty. I‘d do that.”
“You pay attention.”
“Yes, in fact, I DO. I know most people think I’m not, but I really pay close attention,” I sassed.
“I know you do. You ask a lot of questions.”
“Sorry about that.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, really, but you are a good student. You listen well.”
“Hehehehe… Am I that bad?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Hmmmm… well, I want to understand the how and why.”
“That’s good. I am the same way.”
“I understand the appeal now. I mean, out on boats, we’re kind of like pirates and there’s camaraderie and all sorts of tools and such. Surfcasters are the epitome of the ‘lone wolf,’ hunting by themselves, without the gadgets and such.”
“Yes, you understand. It is about the hunt. Just you and the fish.”
“But then again, you could know someone all their life
But might not know they're a freak unless you see them at night,
'cause the freaks come out at night, the freaks come out at night.”
- Whodini “The Freaks come out at Night”
But might not know they're a freak unless you see them at night,
'cause the freaks come out at night, the freaks come out at night.”
- Whodini “The Freaks come out at Night”
Yes, I was truly a fool, but like the hymnal “I once was lost but now am found, Was blind, but now I see.” Surfcasters, I bow to your splendor and talents, and I simply hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my semi-cocky naiveté. You are the true hunters of the water, and I was forever changed by your Jedi Master, Alberto Knie. You are the pioneers, the darers, and the dreamers. If you’re the angry fisherman at the point, I am truly sorry, and I truly didn’t know that you weren’t in the mood to be blinded by a dumbass on her first jetty outing. I humbly bow to you, give you my quiet and warm salute, and end this pointless and drifting story. Tight lines, new heroes.
(Pix in the Women's Forum)
The next story is usually an eternity away.
It is really funny, entertaining and eloquently written. 
