I remember one day walking along the beach near the Pacifica Pier in California with Tony Delicino (my fishing buddy). We've each got our pole, tackle boxes, a bucket for fish and we just bought a box of pileworms to catch a few perch. Well, the tide was way out, so we just keep walking along the beach and ended up along the side of the mountain. It seems every cast, we're catching fish. We start to run out of bait. Well, here on the coast, there are mussels on the rocks. So we start breaking the mussels off the rocks and use the insides for bait. We're still catching away. We've started catching rock fish now too. The tide starts to roll in and we notice, we're trapped, we couldn't go back. The fish are still biting. So, we eye out a spot on the rocks where we can climb up the mountain to get out. By now, I've caught about six perch, three rock cod and an eel. Tony's probably got more, we're stoked. Now, we're completely out of pileworms and are using the mussels exclusively. The tides gotten pretty high by this point, but we couldn't quit. I latched on to three large Lingcod at least 20 inches each. It starting getting dark, so it's time to go. The Lingcod didn't fit in the bucket. So I take off my belt, and use it as a stringer. That trail out of the mountain doesn't look so easy now. Just before I get to the top, the belt slips free from my hand and my belt stringer goes sliding back into the ocean.
Fish and all.
Da** I miss that belt