THERE are plenty of fish in the sea – and quite a few in Central Park’s Lake, as it turns out.
While the existence of anything other than assorted Coke cans and cigarette butts in the Lake might come as a surprise to many New Yorkers, it’s a given for Mike de Avila, the host and co-producer of the reality fishing show “Lunkerville,” which airs on The Sportsman Channel. On the show, de Avila – who does not claim to be an expert, just an enthusiast – travels around the country and meets up with bass fishermen, who take him to their favorite fishing spots.
The New Yorker started bass fishing six years ago. He caught his first “lunker” (that’s fishing-speak for “a really big one”) right here in the 5-foot depths of the Lake. Her name was Betty, and he carries a photo of her in his wallet. Bass fishing in Central Park is strictly catch-and-release, so whenever de Avila fishes here, he hopes for a reunion with Betty. The Lake was stocked in the 1980s, and the bass have propagated the pond. It’s a case of successful conservation, which most bass fisherman practice.
I’m no fisherman, but when he offers to teach me how to hook ’em, it sounds like fun. In fact, Beautiful Day + Rowboat + Central Park + Cute, Rugged Sporty Guy in the Same Rowboat = A Spectacular Idea.
Anyone can get in on the fishing action – you can rent a rowboat at the Central Park Boathouse for a $30 deposit and $10 an hour. You can pick up a fishing license for $12 at Urban Angler (206 Fifth Ave., third floor; [212] 689-6400); you’ll have to bring your own rod with you.
“Wear something comfortable,” de Avila instructs me the day before we meet up. To me, this means flats instead of heels – a serious concession for a woman who views the wearing of stilettos as a sort of Urban Extreme Sport. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to wear waders and fishing gear. Instead, I opt for a “Katherine Hepburn Goes Fishing” look consisting of a blue-and-white seersucker skirt, navy blue polo shirt, and pearl earrings. Seersucker and pearls is apparently an unusual choice for fishing; de Avila is wearing a camouflage mesh NYBass.com hat, old jeans and a blue flannel shirt.
“The fish today might have the post-spawn blues,” he says, as we row our boat toward the shade. “They’ve done their thing, and now’s the time when they tend to get a little inactive.”
“The Post-Spawn Blues” would be a great Billie Holiday song.
And according to de Avila, even when bass are not in a postpartum slump, they are lazy. They like to hang out in shady parts of the water, preying on smaller or injured fish. This languor makes them harder to catch because they’re not in the mood for action.
“You have to bother them into biting, hit them on the head with the bait,” says de Avila. We row toward some foliage, and he shows me how to cast my line. I’m pleased to learn that the baits we’ll be using are fake – as much as I was looking forward to touching a live worm. We use two different baits – a salty stick bait (the rubber worm) and one that I take to calling the “disco bait,” because it looks like a fabulous accessory. These are New York City bass, and I figure they’ll be excited by bait that looks like vintage jewelry.
My hand-eye coordination has never been good, so the first time I try to cast the line, I nearly toss the whole fishing rod over my head and into the water. The next time, I succeed in tangling up the entire line but de Avila administers to it, patiently.
He casts for me, and we sit and wait. And wait. And wait. It’s a beautiful day, and we’re not the only ones boating. We are, however, the only ones who aren’t having an afternoon of mushy romance – 90 percent of the men in the other rowboats have that “I’m about to propose” look to them.
All of a sudden – “We’ve got something!” says de Avila. “Wait, what the hell is it?” It’s definitely something, but it’s not a fish – it’s a handbag. And it’s big – a real lunker of a handbag, you might say. For an exciting few minutes, it looks like we’ve caught a Bottega Veneta weave bag, which retails at about $1,350! Now this is New York fishing.
After closer inspection, though, the catch of the day is not a Bottega Veneta. “This bag is nondesigner,” says de Avila. It’s a Canal Street knockoff – and it smells like an open sewer. Ewwww.
We continue along our way, rowing and casting along the shady areas of the Lake. And wait. And cast. And wait. And cast.
Two hours pass, and there’s a lot of reeling, a few “tease” bites, but no action. I’m ready to give up.
And then – “Did your line just move?” asks de Avila. “No, it’s just the wind,” I say, depressed. “No, it definitely moved,” says de Avila. “Wait a minute – you’ve got something. Reel it in! REEL IT IN!”
“Oh my God!” I exclaim, as I realize that there is indeed a living object on the end of my line. “OH MY GOD!”
Bass alert! Stat! The commotion generates a sort of rowboat traffic jam under the bridge.
“Holy s—!” shrieks a man in a nearby boat. “WHAT IS THAT?”
“It’s a fish!” I say, as an admiring “Damn, girl!” comes from another boat. “There are fish in this pond?!” yells another. From the reactions of my fellow New Yorkers, you would think I’d just caught a Great White, found the wreck of the Titanic, and cured cancer all in one. It’s an incredible rush. De Avila swiftly removes the lure from the fish’s mouth and hands him to me; I’m holding him by the inside of his mouth.
I have my hand in a fish mouth.
The fish has its eye on me, irritated, looking like Travis Bickle in “Taxi Driver.” He flaps his gills as if to say, “You talkin’ to me?” or, “Put me back in the water.” I pose for a few pictures with him; we can tell it’s a boy because he’s on the smaller side. I pet him briefly, apologize for disturbing his day, and put him back in the water.
He swims away quickly and disappears underwater within seconds – but I relish my catch for the rest of the day. Bass-tastic.