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Jack…

The night started off like all the others that summer in the late 90s. My fishing partner, Ronny, and I met at my house around 11, excited for yet another night of fly-fishing for stripers. The excitement was even greater this late-August night because I had access to a creek in one of the most exclusive areas of Long Island, an area that had not seen many anglers.

I stumbled upon this forbidden gem by accident (as most great things seem to happen) when a young teenager wandered into the tackle shop where I worked, asking about fly-fishing the area. I’d heard rumors about the place from old-timers who used to fish there before it was turned into a private beach club. Sure enough, the teenager’s grandfather, who was visiting from Florida, was a member of this ultra-exclusive club.


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