The old man looked a lot like Ernest Hemingway. His trimmed white beard, and his thin face with that leathered look, told of days spent fishing in the surf. On each outing, he wore a straw hat.

The old man fished almost every day this week, stopping only for lunch, or to take shelter from sharp lightning. The tide made no difference, nor did the wind. He fished.

Though we never asked him his name or talked with him much, it was interesting to watch him fish. He cast his various baits out to sea, put the rod in a holder, then sat down in a chair and waited patiently for a bite. We admired his perseverance.

Perseverance and patience have been the key words in fishing this week at Emerald Isle. There are fish present in good numbers all around the island from sea to sound, but making them bite consistently has been the chore.

The ocean water warmed dramatically in just one week. Those 100-degree days in early June zoomed the temperature up to mid-summer levels. Unlike previous Junes, it is not a shock to wade out into the surf to cast a line.

The warm water has made surf fishing a hit-or-miss proposition. Dead low tide seems to be the best, when we can wade out to the sandbar and cast into the deeper water. Fresh cut bait and shrimp has produced some bottomfish, and an occasional bluefish.

Fishing on the end of the Bogue Inlet Pier has been a little more predictable. The bluefish have been present in good numbers just after sunrise. They are willing to strike plugs of all different sizes and colors. An occasional Spanish mackerel has been taken, but mostly blues dominate the action.

By the middle of the week, the southwest wind really kicked in before an advancing cold front. The water got muddy along the breakers. The muddy water line was a great place to plug for hungry Spanish mackerel.

The strong wind pushed schools of baitfish into the shallows and the stained water. The mackerel were not above venturing into the silt to find their meal. Casting a lure into the persistent wind was the greatest task, while getting a hook up was easy.

Life on the pier has always been fascinating to me. People from all walks of life gather there, some rich, some poor. Others are great fishermen, knowledgeable about how to catch all species with great skill. Others do not have a clue, but try hard.

Then we notice an older lady who fishes the pier regularly. She is quite content to use earthworms she has dug from her garden for bait. She patiently waits for the spots to come in.

The one aspect I enjoy the most about the Bogue Inlet Pier is running into old friends I have fished with over the decades. There is no telling when one of them might show up.

Several years ago, I removed a treble hook from a friend's finger. A big Spanish mackerel that he caught threw the hook as he was lifted over the pier rail.

He and I were the only ones on the end of the pier at that time, and it was either fix it or go to the emergency room. I "operated" with 30-pound test line and needlenose pliers in the faint light of that early morning.

That was 17 years ago. I fished with him last Sunday quite by accident. He remembered that morning with vivid details I have tried to forget.

He especially remembered the cooler full of mackerel we caught after the mishap.

What I miss most about the pier is my group of friends that can never return. I remember them with each visit to those weathered planks, especially when the mackerel are running.