So Mrs. Merwin and I are headed for Cape Cod in the morning, an annual fall vacation on which we generally follow the migratory route of the fried clam. We will also of course be looking for stripers like this one that ate one of my homemade plugs down there a few years back.

Getting ready is not half the fun. Like Joe Cermele and his fishing log, my good intentions far exceed my abilities at organization. In this household, the most terrifying words sound like: “Honey, what did I do with the….?” You pick the item.

Whatever, it’s essential, and I can’t find it.

I have met people whose outdoor gear is supremely well organized. I envy them. I have never been able to do that. If I put something in the classic “safe place,” it seems like I forget where almost immediately. If I just set something down randomly, it’s as good as
gone. I do know this isn’t an age thing. It’s been that way all my life. If I sat with two pair of pliers in an otherwise empty room, one pair would be lost within 5 minutes.

As soon as I stop typing here, I’ll be rummaging in the basement for surfcasting gear. I know it’s there somewhere beyond the trout and bass tackle that have seen more recent action. And yes, charging up my laptop so I can blog-post live from the Cape next week.

Those readers who have asked for more saltwater-style yarns will find them here starting Monday morning.

That is assuming I can find my old surf bag this afternoon. And by the way, where in hell are my boat keys?