ACID TO CLEAN ALUMINUM

My family have always fished. Being was born and raised in the Pt. Pleasant NJ area, it was the thing to do.I was a lucky kid too, I was shown how to be a outdoorsman,and most importantly, a fisherman by my Dad Harold McCarsky. Everyone knew my dad. He was the guy that since he was a mechanic and hydrolic tech, if your boat broke, he'd fix it- usually for a pizza and a 6 pack.He knew all the local secrets on Stripers, And surf fishing in general. Everyone would invite him out to fish, he'd take me sometimes. When I got a bit older, he'd take me to the big Surf tournaments in atlantic city, Asbury Park and brigantine to name a few. It was his passion and he was good at it. He loved to share his knowledge, He loved to help someone else catch them like he could. He figured if nothing else, It was that many less flounder I had to clean to give some fish to the elderly neighbors. Dad would stop by with a bag ful of fillets of flounder or Pollock steaks, whtever- He felt he was helping the "Old folks" enjoy "the Shore".As years passed, Dad got sick from heart failure and diabetes. He was overweight and not taking care of himself. There was no beach buggy access, so for a big guy with heart failure, He had to stop fishing as well as work. It was tough for him.He was an Icon on the Jetties and the Surf line. He'd be out all kinds of weird times of the day and night fishing or catching Herring so he could fish! He had to give up his first love- Surf fishing, something he took on the chin. We'd fish the Pt. Pleasant canal for black fish and stripers in the early fall and late spring. I could see the pain dad had in him. He loved t! o fish.H e would say that "right now, they are thowing old creek chubs. Black and silver in the pocket- they are proably killing those bass. The thing too is: Dad would toss you in the Drink if he ever saw you taking a short bass, "Back snagging" fish (other than bait) or doing anything he considered not in the best interest of Sportsfishing. He was 6 foot 4 inches and nearly 390 Lbs, You were not going to argue! One of his dreams were coming true on a bright note- We opened a tackle shop, Started by hand tying the thousands of rigs ourselves, as well as resoration of older rods. I would buy then from garage sales and refinish and rewrap then. If it just needed a guide, would do my very best to replace the guide, re finish it and sell it as a restored rod. That was our starting point.It was also a big key into a guy who was hard to appreciate sometimes. I did not understand my dad. He was a Motor head, Jock and my brothers and him semed to have a better raport than me. I was the musician, the bookworm, the nerd. If it wasn't for Duck hunting and fishing-I'd be called someother things! The one tradition My Dad and I had was, No matter how sick, how broke, how whatever- Dad would take me out to Bay head beach front, Karge' street in Bat head to be exact, For the Fall Bluefish run. Every November 25th, My Birthday. In 1984, inspite of his swollen legs, panting like crazy, he managed to get to our spot. We had a ball, afterwords, we would sit at the inlet and enjoy a breakfast of Smoked whiting and a cold beer. the next season,Our Shop was doing fantastic, We had masses of loyal customers. I was putting out a few customer poles a week. We were really successful! Everyone knew if you had a question ,something broke, you just wanted to show your kid a good time, Harold was there for you. He would give a lot of stuff to the kids at next to nothing or free! He was a sucker for alittle girl going snapper fishing with her dad or grandpop, I would see Dad give her a pole and reel, a little tackle box with bobber and things! that sh e would not get hurt on, then never ring it up. he'd say to bring him some live killies for the Fluke fisherman.He sponsored a big fishing tournament that the kids would do every summer. He thought he could keep them off trouble and drugs if they were doing something fun. He was a great guy to the town. We were getting to the best fishing on the Jersey shore-The beginning of fall. Stripers, Blues, Weakfish (Sea trout)Kingfish,Flounder! My Dad died of Heart failure,September 1985. I took it hard- a lousy time to take him away I figured.Dad and I would argue about stuff in the shop, But behind that, We had finally found a link that made us really close. Some thing I had a hard time doing with my dad sometimes. It was weird though, the day he died, I was fishing literally under his hospital windows at the "Maxxon ave. beach" this little sandy spot on the Manasquan river. I was into huge snowshoe and yellow tail flounders! I was the only guy on the whole place catching them. every catch,I would hold up another one towards the hospital, unaware that my dad had passed. Someone had said it was like someone was putting the fish on the hooks for me! At the funeral, I thought about that statement again...And allowed a smile at the possibi

With the North wind howling outside it is lovely to have my feet resting near to the burner on a wee log and dreaming the dream of days gone bye..

A wee story comes to mind of a day by the river ,not long ago

So as the snow outside retreats up the ben ,no longer a carpet of pure white snow more a thread bare rug discarded across the glen.

let me tell you of a day in the magical mountains of SCOTLAND.

As i made my way down the moss covered bank i pushed gently on the silver birch branch in front of me..

I knew at once this was a place i wanted to sit and watch a while

a wee golden pool at the foot of a waterfall was visible through the wood lined banks

The silver birch was in full leafed splender and here and there spindly branches leaned out across the peaty water and dipped there tips into the warm water.

The sky above was filled with a moon so large that it felt you could leap on it and go for a night ride across the sky .

the wee river leading from the pool was bubbling and dancing around large rocks in it’s way under the moon light

as i made my way to the edge of the pool i could see some slight movement from the surface of the pool so i carefully took my seat and focused on the spot

for the next couple of seconds nothing stirred in this wee piece of heaven ,then YES

i was sure it is .it is a salmon one of the monarchs of the mountains a fish that i believe embodies all about us Scots.

a great wanderer a fighter and such passion to reach the place of its birth

So as i sat there every nerve a tingle ,the joy at being able to witness the return of this great fish

his head out of the water looking at the waterfall for the way forward over this last great barrier to the pool of his birth less than 20 yards away.

The journey he had just completed seemed to flash in his eye a journey off thousands of oceanic miles or more, perils and dangers than he cared not to think off,the day he had finally spotted the river estuary but he had made it and with a final sum of his energy he knew he would be there soon..

he seemed to gaze at me for a split second then with all his reserved energy he began to climb out of the water twisting this way and that in an effort to release all the energy at one single explosion and almost as if in slow motion he gained high first one foot then another and just as it seemed he would make it he fell backwards into the pool

I watched as for a couple of minutes no movement on the pool i feared he had used all his energy and with a hint off sadness i looked to the moon still beaming still beaming how many times had you seen this journey i thought .

Then a slight movement in the golden bubbly waters and i knew he was back (like i said a true SCOT) the battle was not over and with an even more dramatic burst of power he leapt clean 3 foot in the air and with the moon shinning brighter as if in encouragement a final splash at the surface he made it and with a quick glance backwards to me he headed to the pool of his birth there in the magical mountains of the northern country of Scotland..

then from nowhere fish first one or two then what seemed hundreds filled the pool and started to scale the waterfall from all angles fish leapt and failed the jump then more would leap and some succeeded this seem to send more and more hope until they seemed to take the barrier in their stride but a few with every ounce of energy spent drifted to the bank DEAD and DYING ..

at that moment i was about to get and go home when from the corner off my eye two huge yellow things seemed to fall from the sky

the moon was hidden behind a wandering cloud but still enough light escaped to allow me to see what it was

An eagle larger and more colourful than i have ever seen swooped legs stretched out talons at the ready ,wings folded back plummeted through the gap in the trees and with an amazing accuracy landed on one of the floundering fish and gently came to earth his meal well and truly secure

With a loud call that reverberated across the glen he tucked into his meal one monarch feeding another .the way it has always been

peace and light

the dafthermit x








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