What a difference. When Pat and I last fly fished together, we were trying to trick steelhead. We did get a few steelhead, but like always, we had to work relatively hard for them. Tonight was a totally different story. Pat picked me up in his signature, Ford F150 King Ranch Edition. We were hooked up in no time. We were fly fishing in the river. The water was high so with every cast we would let our fly sink a bit before stripping. When we got to the right water level. Bang! Fish on. We caught a few in a nice little back eddie and then decided to try our luck on the flats. The tide was ripping out and it had already dropped 6 or 7 feet. We waded out onto the flat. Everything looked promising. First cast. Fish on. Second cast. Fish on and on and on and on. Pat and I were all smiles. We literally could not keep them off our flies. The Striped Bass were stacked up on the flat devouring anything that moved. Granted, many of these early season fish were small, but we got a couple decent fish and had a blast. We fly fished right up till dark and got plenty of fish on olive and white clousers and black clousers. We stopped by another spot on our way back to see how Pat’s son, Patrick, was doing. He was doing fine, but his friend was having a bad night. As soon as we showed up to the spot they were fishing, we were surprised to see someone swimming in the water. Well, this was one of Patrick’s friends who tried to go literally one step to far. He wanted one last striper so bad that he pushed his luck. He must have stepped on a kelp covered rock and down he went. Neck deep. Of course, everyone laughed at him as he crawled back up on the rock. Only to slip again and take another swim. It was all in good fun. We folded up our rods and headed home. A good night on Maine’s salt water flats.