We set up near these hideous things:
There was no drift to speak of. We has snagged a few bunker on the way out, which added to the mackerel we had bought. Eventually one of the bluefish sacrificed itself for bait as well.
Several hours of sweating and slapping blackflies later the man in the grey suit showed up. It wandered around for a bit, but since we didn't realize a couple of the baits had been picked, and the lone mack didn't capture its attention, sharkey wandered off never to be seen again. Where the h#ll do those damn flies come from anyway? I'll bet they live on the windmills. Another aggregation that junk provides. 🙄
We ran out of chum shortly after and packed it in. Still better than going to work.
