No County For Old Fishermen

“What you got ain’t nothin’ new.  This country is hard on people.  You can’t stop what’s comin.  Ain’t all waiting on you.  That’s vanity,” reasons the character Uncle Ellis in No Country for Old Men.

In a way, I find his monologue to be a foreboding and relevant parallel for today’s state of affairs regarding fishing, as this county is hard on surfcasters.  Monmouth County.  Let’s see.  Newly-erected fences, locked gates, notched groins and jetties, county-wide beach replenishments, flat beaches, no natural beach structure, buried groins, the death of Jetty Country, seasonal beach closures, the new shore-town craze of metered parking spaces, prohibited parking, no public parking, private property, members only, privileged access only, no trespassing signs, no fishing signs.  Those, to note a few of the most egregious.     

Yet, to a similar extent, as the words of Ellis heed, to quit surfcasting or to give-up the seeking and the finding of premier access or midnight-hour entry to best spots because of this or that would be vanity.  We may have it harder than ever (I would argue we certainly do), but just because the means have changed, doesn’t mean the ends are near.  They’re just nearer, so-to-speak.  Abandoning the sport, for me, would be unthinkable.  That’s vanity.  In the meantime, I’ma do what I want.