In order to launch the bait, you have to “load” the rod.  Fly fishers will recognize load immediately as the appropriate fancy-pants way of saying ya’ gotta’ put a bend in it.  The one-armed wrist flick you use with bass gear is just not an option with a rod longer than most vehicles.  You can Google the terms “pendulum cast” and “off the ground cast” or “off the beach cast” for some good videos explaining the mechanics, but here’s my basic technique in a series of photos.

I begin with my back  to the surf and a good length of line lying on the sand.  Half to two-thirds of the rod length is about right, although at first this feels extremely awkward.  You want that rod moving and dragging the weight along for a good distance to induce the required flex.

Note that my right hand is close to my body and my left had is kicked out as far on the rod butt as I can get it.  In turning to face the surf, I have swept the rod around in an arc and lifted the bait off the beach.  It’s already moving along and the rod is beginning to load.

As the rod comes up and around, I step into the cast and use a push-pull motion with my hands.  The left had comes back sharply while I drive forward with the right.  If all goes according to plan, the end result is a 4 oz. pyramid sinker and a live shrimp on a circle hook headed for Mexico.  The force you can generate with a cast like this is amazing.  More than once I’ve had a cast spoiled by the line slipping out from under my fingers too soon with spinning gear even though I use two fingers and grip the line for all I’m worth.  I have not tried it, but I understand some folks use a golf glove to prevent line burns.

The timing takes a while to master, but the cast doesn’t require nearly the speed one might think to achieve distance.  You must feel the weight all the way through the cast.  Any hitch in the cast which allows the weight to catch up with the rod or get ahead of it will unload the rod and induce vibration that will destroy the cast.  Give it a whirl and you might surprise yourself as half the spool plays out into the breeze.

I am reminded of words written by William Humphrey in his essay “On Great Point.” Humphrey observed:

Now, surf casters are men of stamina, rugged and adventurous, ready for anything. Theirs is not a gentle and contemplative recreation. They rise in darkness, drive distances, fish in the worst weather. Of all the many subspecies of fishermen, they take the greatest risks; in fact, they are downright reckless, even foolhardy. Numbers of them, breasting the breakers, invading the surf, seeking to extend their cast a few feet to reach a school of feeding fish, are swept to sea and lost each year, leaving widows and orphans to mourn them.

God’s peace be with you, brother Ronan, and also with your loved ones.