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| by: Matt Chiccarine |
A multi- series of short stories of enthusiasm and hardcore fishing in New Jersey, Pennsylvania and New York. Many days and nights spent on the water resulted in success, failure and often hilarious moments. These are "My Fish Tails"
THE
BEST FOR LAST
The 2009
fall season was already on of the best I had ever seen, I had my new job lined
up and was due to start the second week of December and was using all my
remaining free time to do what I wanted to do, fish for stripers in New Jersey.
Unknown to me something special was in store for the last week a one in a
million situation was headed my way, one more time before the 40 hour work
week, one more time before the winter cold and snow.
We had another successful surf outing as
November was turning into December, another North West wind gale produced the pattern I
wanted on the beach for the day bite.
The nighttime had surf bite had been extremely quiet as it usually gets
toward the end of the season but there were still bass in the bay on the night
tides. It was a crisp Sunday morning and
I met a friend just before sunup in ocean county, the North West wind was blowing close to 20 MPH. The light was just starting to crack the sky
when we walked onto the beach which now was much longer with the blow out tide
in effect. About 15 minutes later like
clockwork the bass made their appearance chasing sand eels all along the surf
line but they were picky on this morning ignoring the usual offerings of thin
metal and plastics. In time we were able to figure the bass out, once they
stopped their surface activity it became a pick of fish on dark bomber plugs on
blind casts while slowly working north up the beach, I saw the angler to my
immediate left drag a nice fish onto to the beach as he carried back further up
the beach for safe keeping I could see it appeared to be pushing 20 lbs. I eventually had my turn when a nice bass of
about 35” took my black bomber, with a second bass close in size shortly there
after. We eventually saw some birds
hovering just slightly north of us with an occasional surface flash against the
sunny morning. As we walked closer it became clear what it was, a large school
of adult bunker was slowly flipping and flopping their way south about 50 yards
off the beach? Adult bunker in NJ in the
fall was a bit of an oddity, seeing them days before December was just unheard
of, could these bunker have brought big bass with them as they often do during
the spring run? A snag treble tucked
inside my tackle bag was tossed over to my friend who went to investigate the
school, the snag rig was taken after a few minutes of live lining a bunker,
bluefish. It seemed the new found bait
did bring at least something with them.
As the morning wore on more and more schools of bunker turned up and
soon they were just about everywhere. We
made a move about 5 miles north later after lunch and found us more schools of
bunker. The flat ocean and mild day and
signs of bunker now had lots of fisherman out, there was a decent fleet of
boats working the schools about 2 to 3 casts at first the only thing we saw
from the surf was an occasional gator bluefish or a chomped in half bunker. But it wasn’t long before a question was
answered, a surf angler casting a treble into the bunker schools sunk his hook
into the back of large striped bass that appeared to be in the high 30lbs when
it was drug onto the beach, the big fish were in fact here with the bunker. The remainder of the day produced no big
stripers for the group of surf anglers but later that night when I checked the
internet websites there were a fair amount of reports of large stripers caught 20-35lbs for a few boat anglers working right
out in front of us. The following
morning was a bit of a disappointment, the 6 to 10 class of bass were there
working on sand eels but the schools of bunker and bass and blues with them
were no where to be seen, vanished as quickly as they materialized the previous
day.
Two nights
later I wanted to try something different, fish some different waters and get a
change of scenery. I hadn’t really
fished south NJ waters all fall, I headed to fish Atlantic City, an area in past seasons that often
was good in the bay after Thanksgiving.
I started fishing kind of late with the outgoing tide starting around 1 am.
The plan was an aggressive one and involved a lot of driving I was going
to fish in Atlantic City and then make the 45 minute drive
north to Ocean County for the day break ocean surf bite. I headed to my bay spot after 1 am and it wasn’t long before a nice
school of bass slurping grass shrimp off the surface. The fish were picky
keying in on the grass shrimp but over the next hour and a half I was able to
take a dozen stripers to about 14 lbs, with most being solid 27-29” fish. I was catch most of the willing fish and the
night was already a success when I packed it in to make the drive North up the
garden state parkway.
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| I got an amazing effect off the Power Pro |
The parkway was
quiet at 3:30 am, just a few cars and trucks traveling along. My planned route was to take the parkway to
37 into Ocean County but I never made it. As I came up on the exit for Long Beach Island I made quick decision and steered
the truck off the parkway and onto the causeway of the lower Barnegat bay. I
remember thinking I haven’t down this way in ages and again I wanted to see if
I could challenge myself to take some fish in an area I hadn’t tried for some
time. I cleared the bridges and parked
inland, it was a crisp cool night with low wind. I open the truck gate grabbed my 7’ medium
heavy G Loomis and started to make my way over the Intercoastal water way
bridge toward the other side of the water to fish. Halfway across the bridges sidewalk a cars
passed by I thought I could hear something mixed in with the sounds of the car
and its tires echoing within the bridge walls.
As the car went further up the street I still thought I could hear
something coming from the darkness.
With no oncoming cars in sight I hopped over the center divider to take
a look at this sound that I at least I recognized. The backside of the bridge was not lighted
but as soon I leaned over the concrete wall I knew it was, adult bunker and
massive amounts of them, thousands as far as I could see. Seeing adult bunker in the back bays was
rare and if we did it was always a spring happening. The times we did see them
in the spring, there often would be much less, there might be about 25 times
less then the massive amount I was seeing.
Unlike the ocean or larger waters like the Raritan or Delaware bays, I’ve never seen Stripers under
adult bunkers in the Back Bay, often the bay fish are too small and more interested in
small bait.
I did throw
a pink zoom jig out into the schools from the bridge and as I started to reel I
found out the bunker were even thicker then I thought. My ½ ounce jig was bouncing across constant
backs of many bunker, taping and catching I couldn’t even really work the lure. I tried a few more casts and it was all the
same just bunker everywhere under the surface. I was headed further up the
causeway anyway I intended to fish another strip of water about 200 yards above
the Intercoastal waterway. As I
approached this waterway and the bridge I again heard the familiar sound,
looking over the rail once again the water was full off bunker on the outflow side of the
bridge as far as I could see out into the darkness. I stepped away and was walking to cross to
the up current side of the waterway when I heard it. Fishing slashing straight through a school of
bunker make unique sound, as bunker scoot in all directions to avoid being
swallowed whole it makes a spraying noise, as if
some is pouring water from a giant watering pail, which cut the still night. I quickly stepped back and looked over the
rail. Suddenly I could see nervous water
and bunker slashing in various directions, there were fish on here on the
bunker!
My tackle
on me consisted of a plastic zoom bag with about 3 or 4 ½ jig heads and about
half dozen plastics jigs. I removed the
zoom off my jig head on the line and threw it out into the water with the
intent of snagging and live lining a bunker. I flipped it about 50 feet from
the bridge into the school and gave it a sudden pull sinking the #4 hook into a
baitfish. I raise my rod tip high and
hooked bunker resisted and twitched in the current. In very short time my Loomis began to
vibrate, something was making my bunker nervous; the vibrating turned into
pulsating and then felt a hard pull so hard that drag began to spin I pulled
back and my tiny jig came flying out of the water. Not a chance, it wasn’t even
close my single hook was too small and I literally pulled it out of the bass
mouth and straight out of the water on the hook set. Looking out on the water I could see bass
slashing everywhere through the bunker schools, I realized what had
happened. The Bunker that were 30 miles
north a few days ago had migrated south and made a hard right into the Barnegat
bay and the bass stayed with them through the narrow inlet. A true rare event in New Jersey for bass this size to do that. I flipped my rod into a safe spot on the
ground and I was in a full sprint about 250 yards back to the truck. Breathing in the 35 degree air made me feel
extra winded as I pulled up to the tail gate.
Then as I often do when over I excited I made a mistake id later
regret. I wasn’t quite prepared for a
bunker blitz, I had a snag rig or two somewhere in the back with all the gear,
I had one in the tiny side pocket of my surf bag which I quickly grabbed, I
flipped open the bag and grabbed a 9 inch yellow pencil popper and held it
baton style as I sprinted back up the causeway.
As soon as I got back to my rod and cut off my jig I realized I made
another crucial mistake, I forgot to grab my mono leader material. I didn’t even consider the trek back to truck
again with feeding fish ever so present; I tied the treble direct and quickly
got it into the water and snagged into a bunker.
I let the live bunker swim in the current
about 50 feet off the bridge, it wasn’t long before I again feel the vibration
and twitching produced from a nervous bunker then a slow and steady heavy pull
as a bass was swimming off with my
bunker in his mouth. I set the hook and
there was about a 2 second delay before the bass realized what was happening
then it shot down current at a rapid rate, my drag was screaming but failed to
slow the bass much. I was using a 4000
series reel for the bay and although plenty of line but that panic of being
spooled was already going through my mind.
I finally stopped the bass but it felt like it was a mile down current,
the fish had all the advantage now. I was working it back pumping the rod but
as quickly as id take back 5 yards the fish would 6 yards off. After about 4 or 5 give and takes far
downstream I felt a hard pop and the line went limp and the bass was off, a no
doubt about 20 plus lb class fish. I got
myself situated again and snagged another bunker and set up with in 5 minutes I
had another pickup and was in a deja vu situation with the bass screaming down
the creek with the current complete with another pop off after a 5 minute
battle. I knew this was going to work I
had left my heavier rod back in the truck and the fish had such an advantage
trying to bring straight back up current I had to get off the bridge and to the
banks to bring them across the current.
I headed for the west side banks the
one that wasn’t in residential back yards and with private docks. I stepped down out onto the sod bank with
caution, pressing with and bouncing with my right foot forward. The bank seemed dry and I proceed to walk
down the bank in my sneakers and jeans.
When I got close to the waters edge the sod, which was flush with the
water, would squish under my steps, therefore I had to work from a few steps
back. I also noticed the water here was
shallow at the shore with a bit of sand protruding out under the water 10 or 15
feet before the deeper water. I snagged
a bunker out here from the banks and the surface activity out in the channel
indicated the bass were right in front of me.
My bunker drifting with the current started to do the shimmy and shake
and started to race inward within seconds in was in the shallow waters to right
in about 2 feet of water, due to that left to right current here and the bass
chasing it gave up pursuit once he ran out of water. Much like on the bridge I had a repeat
performance once I reset the water just wasn’t deep enough here and there were
way too many bunker for the bass to pursue a single one too far from the
zone. I quickly changed up to the yellow
pencil popper and after about a dozen casts over prime water I was convinced
they weren’t interested in the surface plug in the dark. I also was noticing the bait and fish were
slowly working there way down tide, I looked down and about 100 yards away this
waterway twisted right and met with the Inter coastal waterway, I could see a
lot of bunker spraying out there in the darkness. This seemed to be where the bulk of the fish
were but I couldn’t get out there from here.
I’d have to circle back to the truck and head down the banks on Island.
An uneasy feeling and pressure started to set in I had to walk few hundred more yards and I was burning
darkness and I still had not landed one fish.
Looping my way back to the island eastern
bank, I stopped at the truck yet again; I grabbed my heavier inshore Lamiglass
rod and I also had been fishing without a leader and the bunker flipping and
twisting were making a horrible mess with the power pro around the treble and
often inverting it on the line, yet another one of my increasing blunders for
the night. Making my way down the banks
I now realized where I wanted to be, the ICW was getting wider and came to a
big open area where the previous creek met far across on the other side but
this was key because the current would slow way down coming into this open wide
area. This would allow me to let my
bait work naturally without being pulled too hard down current. I found a public dock that put me out just a
little further into the water and it was deeper close to shore here. This area also had the other key ingredient,
bunker everywhere, every thirty seconds or so I would hear the familiar spray
of bunker that sounded like rain as bass crashed through the schools. The large majority of the fish were far off
in the distance where the creeks met, but I had plenty of bait and bass staged
in front of me. Seeing the slashing and
nervous bunker scatter off I threw right in and once again had a pick up with
minutes and yet another miss. I reeled
in to find another inverted treble inside a miss of a power pro, the hooks were
facing the complete wrong direction when I went to set the hook. The power was just too limp to tie direct
with the movements of the bunker. The
site of hundreds of trophy sized fish helps makes you dumb things if you try to
rush it and I was doing plenty of that.
Right then and there in the darkness as I tied on a 3 feet mono leader I
made a pack with myself to settle down and stop making mistakes. With my new leader tied on I was quickly back
into the water, with my new attitude the run off up played out in slow motion I
calmly let the bass pick up the bunker drop it and pick it up again and let him
make a short run when my line went taunt and I felt a steady hard pull on my
lamiglass I pulled back hard and felt a solid bend in the rod, and my drag
started to spin wildly as another sold fish ran straight out across the
channel. I desperately wanted to land
this one and although he had taken out a considerable amount of line I didn’t
want to do anything to have this hook pop out prematurely. With the added pressures the fight felt like
and eternity as they often do in those situations, when the reality is only a
matter of minutes have passed. When the
bass got close it started to roll on the surface and the surface crashes
created with her wide tail were all I could hear in the quiet night. I brought it along the side of the dock and a
wide silver body flashed as it started to give up its side, I jumped down to
the sand as it made one last effort of a run before making a final splendid
roll in the shallows sending water into the cool air. It again gave up its side and I reached out
and grabbed its mouth I felt relief as I lifted the fish. A low twenty pounder, I snapped a few
pictures and quickly released the bass.
I stepped out back out to the edge of the dock with a renewed confidence,
I had less then an hour of darkness left but I was in my groove now and the
hook ups came much easier I knew exactly when to let them run with it exactly
when to hit them and where to land them on the sand, and it felt good. I was into fish Eighteen to low or mid Twenty
pounds and unlike a random ocean beach the gorging was in sustained position,
but I knew the approaching change from dark to light would change the pattern
and most likely end the bite
With dawn approaching I was finally joined by
some company, a few duck hunters were getting ready to launch a boat at the
very near by boat ramp. I was again
hooked up and I was following the fish up current along the bank I ended up
landing the bass exactly next to the boat ramp as I lifted the twenty pound
bass and started to remove the hook I heard the three men’s conversation come
to halt, “look at that fish he just caught” “Well done” they yelled over. I returned back to my position on the dock I
was doing well and as always craving that feeling of just one more. I had another pop off before looking at my
cell phone for the time, daylight was coming fast. I got another live bunker on in a good area
exactly where I wanted to be. A bass
started to pick up my bunker and drop just as light started to crackle in the
sky. I heard footsteps approaching from
behind me and an older walked up to ask me if I was catching anything. “yeah doing well, real well, I have one
hitting right now in fact”. This bass
must have picked up the bunker three times already and dropped it. I wasn’t sure how serious he took my claim at
first but the bass picked up the bunker good and made a slow steady run and I
know she was mine. I few minutes later
I was landing another twenty pound bass in the shallows as it was getting
light. The gentleman had followed me
over to get a look at what I had on and his eyes nearly popped when he realized
I wasn’t lying. He made a bee line for
his car and rod but the morning was upon us and the feed was over. The causeway started to come alive with
trucks headed in for early deliveries and cars headed outward to work on this
crisp Friday morning. I loaded up my
truck and headed out, I never made it up the coast and onto the beach but it no
longer mattered, I played a hunch and it paid off big and it was a night to go
down in memory.
I woke up in the afternoon and
started to contact my friend Frank and tell him to drop all plans and to head
back out with me. The surf reports from
the previous night and morning were strong with fish to 10 lbs but I barely took
notice or interest I was son a one track mission to head back to the
bunker. The weather report however did
catch my interest it was going to drop into the twenties with a forecast of
snow for Sunday; the season was dying although so many fish around. Frank and I headed out early that night on
the incoming tide, with the plan to wait for high water and a hopeful repeat
performance on the outgoing tide. We
ended up taking a just a few fish with other bass started to crash off in the
distance closer to high tide. They bass
were sustaining around a flat area 75 yards to my right that would have
required me to put my waders on but with the 25 degree night I was just too
lazy to do it and I was waiting for the outgoing to pull the bass back into the
hole thicker. Then the strangest thing
happened after high tide, thousand and thousands of bunker left the Barnaget
bay for the 2009 season and took the big bass with them. Over the next hour and a half not a trace of
bait or fish the surface was calm and the night went quiet all I could was
smile riley just as all things all great bites must end. The following night snow began to fall for
the first time and most areas were hit with three to 4 inches of snow. The final death blow to the season came less
then a week later as a storm dumped a foot of snow on New Jersey.
The end of the season is always hard especially when there is a lot of
fish present when winter rears its ugliness.
Touching up my pictures as the snow fell I felt a sense accomplishment and I
already couldn’t wait for May and the return of the bunker run.
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Chilly Dip
I
called Mike one day in mid
December to tell him how great the Back Bay Striper fishing had been
lately. "Mike, its not IF you are catch any its how
many you’re going to catch, we have to get out there tonight" The
weather looked really good lows of 32 but the wind forecast was light North West. We headed out
around 10 to catch the end of the incoming, the bass were showing up in
force at the top of the outgoing, but i suspected a few could be staging
at one spot before the turn of the tide. We arrived at that spot and
were greeted by another fisherman already there. I noticed he was
using the same tactic as we intended, slowly bouncing a plastic type
jig along the bottom at an angle with the current. Mike and I
started to work our jigs and it wasn't long before the nearby fisherman
set the hook and brought in a schoolie sized bass. I looked over toward
Mike as if to say see they are here. The fisherman quickly hooked up
again and yet again with more schoolie sized bass. I finally felt a
strike and brought in a small 21" striper. Just a few casts later
i caught his twin and i noticed the other fisherman also landing
another small bass. Mike who was going hitless looked over toward me
with a look of concern, I waved my hand "don't worry this is nothing, Just
remember we are just killing time until the tide shifts" The
next 15 minutes or so the tide stopped going out and the small spurt of
activity had ended with my second bass. We headed back to the truck to
make a change to a near by location that was much better on the
outgoing. "I'm telling you that was a good sign, they’ll be here, don't
worry" After a short break it was nearly 11:30 and enough time had passed and the tide was about to shift
and start to come back in. We headed to the spot grabbed the rods
out of the back of the truck and walked toward the water which was
now barely starting to trickle. We looked out at the water with
rods held at our sides and we both instantly noticed the same thing, Striped
Bass, lots of them.
This
was a spot on the bay and the access to the water was a lengthy metal bulkhead,
artificial lights attracted bait, the bass were popping on the surface and
sucking down grass shrimp as it drifting along with the current. A
series of hand signals said you take those fish over that way and I ll take
these. We flipped our pink jigs into the water and both were instantly
hit but we both whiffed on the hook set. A cast or too later i got a hard
hit and during the fight I could see Mike making a lot of frustrating gestures
and head shakes. As I landed about a 7 lb bass mike was yelling over
"I missed four so far. four!" It wasn't long before I seen
Mike's rod double over as i released my fish, he was finally on the board and
quickly landed a fish of similar size. As we were fishing about 8 to 10
feet off the water if we came across any fish over 8 or 9 lbs our rod and
braided line couldn't take the stress on landings and they would have to be
netted. I had two nets with us that night one a hoop dropper
net similar to a crab net which can easily be lower down and pull the fish
into, we have done hundreds of time and its relatively easy, I also a
somewhat long lander the kind you might use from a larger boat which
almost nearly use. For some reason that night i choose to place the long
handle net along the bulkhead and I went as far as to take the dropper net out
but i left it propped up along side my vehicle, the choice of nets would later
be pivotal decision. The air was crisp and we didn't feel it much because
we were started to really get into bass, most were the old New Jersey
slot size, a fish between 24" and 28" that previous regulations
allowed you to keep 1 of and your second fish had to be over 28" which
also where they would get a little tougher to land.
As
we were fishing we saw lights as another truck pulled into the area, it was Tom
a fishing acquaintance of ours. We informed him of the good bite and soon
enough Tom had a fish of his own. Mike hooked up also "this one is a
little better" as he brought it the side of the water this
fish looked to be about 32 inches. Tom quickly grabbed the landing net
but with the low tide he was just missing reaching the fish. At the edge
of the bulkhead was a cement wall that sat about half the height of the
bulkhead Tom quickly jumped down to the cement and scooped up Mike's bass
rather quickly. After landing the fish he said a quick goodbye and
was on his way home. Mike released the 32 incher and i couldn't believe
it as he specifically had told me he wanted to keep some fish and I am thinking
it was our first upper keeper and you never know if it’s your last too.
Well it turned out Mike was onto something because his very next fish was a
34" a nice 14 pounder
The
tide started to move along good now and the bass kept working and more appeared
to be coming in with the tide. I was
blowing on my hands to keep them warm, placing bare hands on wet fish made the
skin even chillier. It turned out Mike was really onto
something releasing his last fish because his very next was a nice
34" 14 pounder.
I
had about ten fish and it had all the makings of a banner night in
progress. I blew on my hands for a quick warm up made a cast
and got a hard strike, on the hook up I could feel I had a solid fish of
my own roughly the same size as Mike's latest fish. I worked it close to
the shallows and Mike grabbed the net and started to head to the lower cement
area where Tom had scooped up his fish. The fish also appeared to be in
the 32-33" range, the net was somewhat medium sized so starting around
fish this size you had to almost slowly thread the fish into the net. As
i brought this fish into the landing zone Mike made a big scoop underneath but
the net wasn't exactly completely under the fish he started to lift. The
fish was too close to the front and its tail and head were stretching out
across either side of the net as he started to raise it.
"NO
no" I yelled out as i was thinking the downward angle of the net would
cause the bass to fall forward and out and possibly snap off. But
something much worse occurred, Mike lifted the fish up fast but it was still
braced and balanced on the front of the net and it did slide but it slide
backwards dropping down into the net. The 12 pounds dropping into the
bottom of the net caused a weight shift Mike wasn't ready for and his feet were
on the edge of moist frosty cement. I first heard the clang of the net
hit the cement and go into the water; the shift sent Mike into a swimmers
position as if on the starting blocks. The reason he had to drop
abandon the net was to wildly flail his arms to try to regain his balance,
but it was a losing battle, and at the point Mike's made a quick decision that
i totally understood later. He actually leaped outward and plunged into
the cold drink. His momentum was pulling so far forward that by
leaping outward and belly flopping was the only thing he could to prevent him
from going in head first. Once he hit the water that was the only thing i
saw sticking out of the water was his head with quite a shocked look on his
face. "TRIPS OVER" Mike said as he emerged from the frigid
water. One of us started to go into shock and it wasn't Mike, I
didn't dive in after i didn't throw out a line I just collapsed to the ground
in laughter. The only thing I can managed to say while cracking up was
"grab my bass" which Mike did indeed do before climbing back up to
dry land. He had a look of pure horror and shock on his face from
the 48 degree water, this only doubled my cruel pleasure in the matter, I had
to kneel down because i felt like i was on the verge of passing out from lack
of air from so much laughing. Mike again stated that the trip was over
and time to go home, I suddenly got serious, "no no. we cant" I
had already had it mind early that it was a 20 fish night and still need more
to achieve that goal. Mike was standing perfectly straight with his arms
outward almost afraid to move, he still had a look of horror and was starting
to shake. "We have to stay" I could barely get the
words out from laughing so hard. I was intent on making Mike stay no
matter how much his teeth were chattering.
"OK
OK here is what we’ll do" I knew i had my coverall jump suit in my
truck and some extra shirts and a hoodie sweatshirt, I offered my one of double
layer socks as well. "All we need to do is get in the truck and
totally crank the heat up for a while and you'll be ready in no
time" I decided the compassionate thing to do would be to sit in the
truck with Mike as he attempted to fight off hypothermia and get back to the
great striper action. Mike changed and we pointed all the heater
vents directly at him at full bore, he still had that look of horror on his
face and was shaky, this is where i began to fail miserable with my plan to
provide compassion. I broke out into another laughing
fit I kept picturing how he had to jump outward into that water and that
was all it took for me to lose control again. As Mike sat there
dazed and shaking I somehow felt he needed to know what he looked like
going off that bulkhead I tried to explain how it looked except every time i
attempted to talk I just started to laugh harder and harder and just
couldn't get through my first sentence. I really felt like i wasn't going
to be able to catch my breath as i just kept reliving that plunge in my
head. I gave all the compassion I could in 10 minutes or so and exited
the vehicle for my pursuit of 20 bass.
Turned
out Mike needed another 20 mins in there before reemerging. While he was
on warm up, I caught bass and did everything I could not to think about the
plunge to avoid another laughing fit. Then I made a mistake, I looked
back at the truck and with the amount of hot air blowing on cold it had steamed
up the windows nearly completely but there through the small spot not steamed
up was Mike's face peering through with the same look of horror still intact,
he looked like a weird shaky jack o lantern on a foggy
night. I totally lost it again and broke out into
uncontrollable laughter.
Mike
eventually came out to fish again and took a few more fish but he was just
was never the same thereafter. He stayed and humored me but not
complaining too much after mid tide passed the bite either slowed down or we
had thinned most of them out of this spot. I eventually got dead locked
on 19 bass and a lot of trouble getting another hit, we certainly had our fill
and a lot of nice fish but this was at a time was a little too concerned with
numbers and i was intent on that 20 th fish. Mike looked pretty
much done with the trip he probably had close to 15 bass but his look said it
all. "How you making out" I asked. "im not too
bad everything is good but my underwear is still soaking wet and
freezing" That was it, i lost it again, i nearly collapsed a
lung laughing, "Lets get out of here."
The
whole ride was a battle not to drive off the road laughing, i could not stop
laughing still thinking of Mike going into that water, in fact it took
many months where i would just be somewhere, anywhere and i think of him
going in and start laughing.
 |
| Mike McQuaid, a few days after the Chilly Dip |
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A Blitz Tail
The
fall had been fairly warm up until the last week of October and things were off
to a slow start for stripers in New Jersey. I was excited to
be fishing a three day weekend into Monday hoping for that first good wave
of bass to come through finally. Just as the weekend was about to start
we got more weather I didn't want, Saturday called for warm temps with lots of sun
and SW winds, I also planned to be fishing on the boat the following day
and the forecast was nearly the same. I started fishing Manasquan on
Saturday and spent time fishing all around the various beaches and a few
rock piles and only a few small blues racing in and out of the inlet before
dusk but I placed the best positive spin on it and figured hey it was something
at least until the bass show up and go on the feed. The following morning
we cleared the inlet around 7 am and even early on you
could see it was going to be a nice very mild fall day. We started
to troll trying to locate schools game fish by dropping trolling plugs and
bunker spoons and it was long before the rods started to bend, the only thing
was they were 6-12 lb blues on the other end. Sometimes two blue at a
time was how the day started went right through the middle and even fished, all
blues all day long at all stops. My uncle Tony was intent dragging
the spoons at various depths in hopes of finding big bass but they were like a
bluefish magnets. Mid day temperatures pressed into the high 60s, between
the warm temps and the 300 foot wire line workout I kept taking off
jackets and shirts to I was down to just a tee shirt. I normally don't
mind the fight of a big bluefish but dragging them with the boat on wire line
quickly lost its appeal and it wasn't long before it was obvious the striped ones
weren't there or weren't willing to cooperate. After about the 30th blue
I could really start to feel it in my back and forearm and it was one of the
very few times where I literally couldn't handle much more. My uncle
worked the helm while George and I started to go into "you take this
one" arguments. "No way isn't it your turn I think I had the
last one" George and I totally worn out finally came to the agreement
that enough was enough and time to head in. That morning I had looked at
Monday’s weather and saw exactly what I was looking for coming a day later then
I really wanted low 50 with a 15 mph North West wind, a little cold
front was coming through. The whole time Sunday on the boat I kept saying
we are a day early. As the boat approached the inlet I saw a little more
birds at the mouth then usual and not the tiny scrap picking birds, these
looked like a few terns in the mix. After washing down and cleaning
the boat I grabbed my surf stick and headed to the Jetty at the inlet. As
I walked up there about an hour later, the inlet was now engulfed in birds, and
I could tell by fisherman's postures something was going on. There was
definitely a lot of fish on both sides of the jetty but they were all
blue. Mostly midsized 4-5 lb blue fish came in and all the
rods were bent. I used what little energy and strength I had left to
get into the mix. After taking a few, the highlight was one of the blues
biting or breaking my Cordell plastic pencil in two. I switched to a shad
I happen to have handy in my pocket and a 5lber was quickly on it. A
couple was taking a leisurely walk out onto the Jetty just as I was about to
pump the blue up the rocks, on the first hard pump the blue shook the hook
and what was left of the shad including the lead and hook went flying
like a pendulum and I could hear the shrieks from the couple behind me with the
projectile headed their way. Well I've seen this move before and I had
kept my rod high the whole time and flipped it forward in mid flight protecting
the civilians in the process. Little did I know then an accident was in
fact waiting to happen this weekend and it involved no civilians.
After that I had enough, I left the blues and went back and I passed
out about 7:30 PM totally unaware that
one of best and worst days would soon follow.
I woke up about 4 am and as soon as I opened
the door I felt the cool winds and colder air, high tide was going to be right
around day break, perfect conditions this is it I thought to myself. I
went back to the big jetty to already find 2 others working it in the
darkness. I fished all along the jetty and surrounding beach area for an
hour and a half using a variety of lures without a hit, I couldn't believe
it. Now I suddenly would have loved to have a nice bluefish hit me.
My fingers were chilly and I was painfully bored and I was getting that feeling
that I don't even remember what a hit feels like. I kept thinking
no big deal so many times I don't get them in darkness and at that first crack
of light the fish show up to feed. Dawn came and still no fish, after
about an hour it seemed hopeless but I had taken the day off so I continued to
try. Now fully light out a good hour and a half into light and I was
about to make a move walking off the far end of the big jetty I started
to see some birds a few hundred yards north. I didn't think too much of
it at first but they continued to linger. This is where I made a mistake
I don't plan to make again too often. I had just gone 3 hours without a strike
and I was being lazy watching a few birds get increasingly thicker. I
could have easily walked there in 5 minutes or even better yet, ran there
in 2 minutes. I stepped down to the pocket to have a chat
with a Fly fisherman who was doing equally as bad as me.
"There are a few birds up there, might be something, probably some
blues" I said. Here was where I made another mistake,
took some bad advice. The Fly fisherman said "they are coming this
way, the current will bring them right to us" For about two minutes
the birds definitely looked closer but then as I looked again they were moving
north away from us, and they were now too thick ignore. After waiting
with the Fly guy for a little too long I said “I think we have to go after
them" He seemed disinterested in moving with me and finally got
my lazy butt up the beach solo. As I started to get closer to the birds a
few anglers were coming down directly toward them from the street too. I
hadn't gotten to the bird totally just yet but I was close enough to take a
cast and catch my wind from my double time pace. I went with a 2 oz
pencil and a few pops it got taken down, finally! As I reeled it to the
wash I was thinking please please have stripes, as I slide the fish up the
sand I was disappointed to see it was a mid size blue fish. Again I was
thinking oh well it’s something and I don't mind catching them from the
surf. I repositioned about 30 yards north now directly with the birds and
two fisherman who came down from the street. With in seconds all three of us
were hooked up at about the same time, the blitz was defiantly on and things
suddenly got very interesting as all three of us simultaneously slide short
stripers onto the beach. “YES they are bass!”
Although
there was no surface activity there appeared to be a good body of bass right
outside the wash, with seemingly that one lone blue just to throw me off
mentally. Another angler now joined the action to our left,
the fly guy still casting into dead water down the beach on the jetty.
For the first 10 casts it was hard not to get a hit on the popper and I took
about 5 bass in no time at all, this is what I had been waiting
for! After releasing one I went about a 5 hitless casts and I
noticed the birds slide a little more north but not too much, the newest
angler to the blitz was on them and hooked up. I repositioned again about
another 30 yards, and soon as the pencil started to pop a bass took it down, I
was totally pumped with excitement now and my adrenaline was running high a
full on bass blitz. After a quick
release the next cast produced the same result and a just keeper sized bass immediately smacked it, only this
time when I landed it I immediately could see just the tip of the pencil
sticking out its mouth. If I could do it over I would have unsnapped the
lure threw the fish on the beach and kept fishing. However in a blitz you
look to your right and left and see bent rods birds diving fish flopping on the
beach and every moment you aren't casting into the water feels like an
eternity and it seems like the only thought on your mind is I MUST CATCH TONS
OF BASS RIGHT NOW.
The mistakes were already starting to pile up for
the day and I was about to make my biggest one yet with my adrenaline flowing
and an anxious to get back into the water attitude. The pliers I chose to
use that day were pretty much basic household needle nose type, not the
extended needle version ones. The fish had the plug straight
down its mouth and the trailer hook was hooked pretty far down. I
quickly slid the bog out from inside my waders and I lipped the bass and
braced the metal part of pliers with my index finger for leverage because
I knew I was about to stick them way deep down its mouth. The only
thought on my mind being get back into the blitz, need to get back into
the water pronto. I clenched the trailer hook with the
pliers and started to shake it with the pliers up and down
and side to side. In my hast I totally neglected the fact that I was
shaking that braced index finger near the middle hook which was free. I
felt the tip of that hook lightly poke my index finger and I went to
move point away from my finger and I couldn't believe what I was seeing
the barb was straight down into my index finger. I tried to remove
it but I was quickly clear that it was going anywhere. Panic quickly
started to set in, I'm hooked the bass is hooked to the
lure I'm hooked to the lure and the bass can easily be bouncing
around on the boga. I quickly took it to the sand and put a death grip on
it. The near by fisherman had just released a bass when I
approached him with my mess. "Hey do you think you could
do me a really big favor and unhook this bass, I sort of hooked
myself" Now what happened next had to be amazing odds of all
the potential people I could have fished next to and chose to ask for
help. This gentleman pulled out his pliers complete with split
ring and in about 30 seconds flat removed the treble from lure
and even unhooked my bass, I was stunned and quite please now I only had a
6/0 treble going straight down index finger. He was a master with those pliers
and a true savior. Again if I could have done things all over I would
have stayed with that blitz and just fished with my impaled index finger
sticking out. However there is just something freaky about a
piece of stainless steel impaled in your finger so I panicked and headed off
the beach. I pulled on the hook some but it was clearly
not coming out. I didn't get far before I passed a lady out for a morning
walk, note to self moving forward, don’t ask people which hospital is closest,
it tends to make them panic. Back at the truck I directed two anglers to
the blitz and they couldn't understand why I was leaving until I showed them my
finger, they took a quick look thanked me and high tailed it up the
beach.
Pulling
into the hospital I started to already think oh man this is going to take long
in the ER, I don't think I am going to get back there any time soon. I walked
in with my hand hid under my sweatshirt as I didn't want to alarm any women and
children. Checking in you have to eventually say why you are in the ER,
and I sheepishly told her I had a hook in me I need removed. She made me
show her and she instantly hit me with "now you know how the fish
feel" She went on to tell me I was 6th person to come in for such
an issue since the weekend and explained how the last guy had a pretty
gold lure dangling from his hand. Looking out over the waiting area I saw
maybe 3 other people and 2 appeared to be together, "well maybe this won't
take long". About 30 to 40 minutes later they called
my name and took me into the real ER area but it looked like a MASH unit
back there, people were everywhere. They put me behind a curtained
area where I waited close to 2 hours before the doctor came to see
me. He took a look at the treble sticking straight down the tip of my
index finger and asked the nurse to find some wire cutters.
He came
back with two needles, one tetanus shot for my arm and the other was to numb my
index finger. The numbing shot turned out to be the worst part as it
wasn't just a prick under the skin as I thought it would be, half
the needle did a disappearing act straight down into my finger and burned
like hell, this made my already hooked finger feel about 10 times worse until
he pulled that needle out. "Great now pull out the hook and I am
out of here". I had to wait another 15 minutes for the finger
to go numb. The doctor didn't seem want to tell me the plan but I was
pretty sure what was next, he grabbed the hook with some pliers and began to
push rather then pull, I had to look, I saw another area on the tip of finger
go white before seeing the barb come pushing out the other side of my
finger. He grabbed the wire cutters and he tried but was unable to
clip the barb off. He muttered something about stainless steel and the
size of the hook and asked me reposition and lay my arm flat across
the table. He called a nurse in to help and said to me "I need you
to use your good hand to help hold your arm down good" "WHAT!"
I have to hold my own arm down! When I seen how much strain and pressure
the Doc put on those pliers I couldn't help but to think with a slip of those
pliers or my arm could lead to much pain and me squealing like a
pig. I just about cut off the circulation pressing down
on arm to prevent any slips, the doctor said close your eyes,
"great, now I have to close my eyes too" the barb finally gave
way and shot across the room like a bullet. The doctor pulled the
hook back through the entry spot and quickly left to attend to
others. Another short wait went by before a nurse appeared
with a try various bandages and gauze, and plastic wraps. Looking
at this tray it was clear she intended to wrap me up like
Tutankhamen. Before she could get started I stopped her with a
special request, " I can't bandage this up because I won't be
able to fish with one hand" She asked me if I was serious and
started to lecture me about a fresh wound being susceptible to bacteria and I
shouldn't risk getting it dirty for a day or two. Obviously not
understanding the allure of a blitz, she still seemed intent on wrapping me up
good. She said I’ll be right back I am going to make something for your
finger if you really have to go fishing again. After she left the curtain
area she ran into another nurse and I immediately heard "he wants
to go back to the beach"
A
few minutes later the nurse reappeared with what was calling a padded finger
condom. She made a contraption of gauze and some tape slide it over my
entire finger and then applied a rubber finger over the whole mess.
It was huge and it looked like I had giant cartoon finger, the numbing medicine
had spread to most of my hand but my thumb and pinkie were good enough to
pencil pop I figured. She gave me some larger type band aides and
antiseptic for later in the week, ha big mistake for that nurse. After
checking out of there I found a nice trash can in the parking garage to
toss the finger contraption into and began to do my own post op work on my
finger with the extra bandages she gave me and I cut down the tip of the
rubber finger she gave me and some scotch tape putting the finishing touches on
a much smaller finger tip only wrap. The only problem was it was now noon and I needed lunch and some 8 inch needle nose
pliers. After a few stops I got back to beach about 1:30 with new pliers and the feeling coming back into my
hand. It was near low water and quiet looking Monday afternoon I saw
a familiar face that I sometimes see on the beach fishing he was also in look
out mode, we stopped to have a chat and he quickly informed he got into the
morning action too. "How did you do?" "Oh man
I stopped counting but I suspect it was somewhere near 35 fish to about 12
lbs" exactly the answer I didn't want to hear. The bad part
about sitting in the ER waiting room watching Rosie and the Today Show is
knowing what you're missing, getting a confirmation later hurt double.
The
water was starting to come in so I geared back up and took a walk out onto the
beach where the lightening struck in the morning. Not much was going
on and it wasn’t long before a struck a conversation with a near by fisherman,
I told him of the morning action and my trip to hospital. Once I got to
the part about impaling myself he looked at me like he suddenly found his long
lost cousin and rolled up his sleeve to show a large bandage on his wrist area,
“I took one in the wrist last week!" Suddenly my new friend and I
were like long lost hooked brothers. As we traded our war stories we started to
notice a massive concentration of birds about a half mile out and about 2 boats
on them. The birds were thick and they were not breaking up any time soon
but all we could do was watch and hope they came in. Over the course of
an hour or so the birds did slowly come in closer but still over casts away but
then somewhere inside the birds we started to see big slashes a sure sign of
big blues working. Casting and working pencils with my index finger
sticking straight out I wouldn't mind some big blues on top water, the slashes
were random and very sporadic but stayed in front of us sometimes about 2 casts
out but we just couldn't reach them. My new friend hoped on a small
finger jetty to get some extra distance and within his first few casts he
struck pay dirt with a hit but lost the fish. Next cast he hooked up
again and landed a nice blue and waved me over. Was a classy move
and was enough room on the small jetty for us to get a little extra
distance. Long casts were still needed and if we got off a good one 6-9
LB blues would take down our pencil. Bent rods have a way of attracting
crowds as other guys started to gather on the sand. I took a couple of
blues and then I had a hit close to the rocks and the fish instantly went down,
"this one has stripes" Sure enough I was soon sliding a
28" bass to the side of the rocks.
A few casts later I got to
witness a truly remarkable visual, again as my popper got close I saw a back
with stripes come clear out of the water and close on the popper only to blast
it going sideways half of the water, "he missed he missed" My
new friend soon had a bass on of his own. I didn't see one angler one the
beach hook up and a few started to get happy feet and cast from behind me on
the rocks and attempting to angle to the same water, in a blitz I want everyone
to catch fish but I started to hear this possibly non English speaking angler's
popper whiz by my ear. He finally got a cast off into the zone and hooked
up with a sizable blue and all I could do was bob and weave from his taunt mono
over my shoulder until he could get his blue under control and like you often
see in a situation like this there was just way too much drag spinning going on
as he let the blue get around the tip of the jetty, we instructed to just get
up front and center already to get control of his fish. Two other
anglers were also fishing behind us at straight out angles and it was just
getting a little silly. Then I noticed a large pod of nervous peanuts
erupt in the trough that was all I needed to see I conceded the tiny jetty to
happy footed fisherman and took to the sand. By now more anglers were
hooking up in a spread out area and the finger jetty was no longer an advantage
anyway. The last 45 minutes of light provided solid action with a mix of
blues and bass about with about a 75% ratio of blues. I think I ended
the evening shift with 3 bass and about 8 or 9 blues all reeled it without
the use of a index finger, which I poured alcohol on to keep any bluefish germs
off me. The evening wasn't as gonzo with bass as the morning but it
was somewhat of a nice second chance. It turned out to be one my most
memorable day’s surf fishing in NJ and had the potential to be one of the best
if I had sat in the ER so long. The tip of my finger felt numb
for about 2 weeks and took another 2 weeks to get back to
normal. I have since vowed to always be more careful with trebles,
but once the fish blitz all rules might be off. I left to go back
to work Tuesday with a numb finger nicked up hands, dead shoulder from casting,
my right forearm ached from the wire reels and a very sore back from trolled up
blues. Again
I crashed out super early with only one thought on my mind as I hit the pillow,
when can I get back out there.
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The Tourney
Although it
wasn't really my type of thing I decided to enter a Striped Bass tournament
which had different divisions such as boat and land. The tournament
started and noon on a Friday and ran through the night and ended on Saturday
at noon, an all night tournament. Viewing the previous year’s
results for the land division they struggled to weigh in many fish. I wasn’t surprised to see this. If you
are beach fishing and you get the wrong kind of conditions the fish
may never be near the beach and game over. However night fishing the
bay, if you know a little bit, you can almost always find a
few bass. Knowing that i usually have good success fishing
the bay at night i decided to enter thinking my chances might be good
to at least place and maybe get some type of prizes. It sounded like a fun idea and I liked my
chances.
I decided
not to pre register for the tournament, the year before i had actually thought
about entering and a nasty NE hit the day before and pretty much wiped things out.
Therefore I waited to see what kind of conditions the day we hold before making
my final decision to enter. That day i went to work with my truck fully
stocked with rods, tackle and an overnight bag for the weekend. I checked the forecast at work, it was
suppose to blow and gust over 20 mph North West all day and but was
supposed to drop out to dead calm around 8 pm. The tide was
supposed to start going out around 8:30. My experience in the past
had been very good with blow out tides and wind dropping out into the
night which would sometimes seemingly draw nicer fish into some flats areas
that would look shockingly low during these blow out ebb tides.
The shop
was open late to do late entries and up to midnight weigh-ins, you could register to 9pm. I arrived at 8:30pm and requested the late entry form.
The guy looked at me like “sure thing buddy we'll take another entry fee for
the pot”. This occurred during the year that New Jersey still had a slot
fish limit of one between 24" and 28" and your second fish had to be
over 34". This made the tournament very difficult as you could
easily have to toss back what people were calling a gap fish that year, one
between 28" and 34". The tournament had some kind of prizes
within each division, including the land division for the heaviest slot fish
(between 24” and 28”). I was extremely confident i could get a slot fish
in the bay and i felt that the heaviest slot just might win the whole land
division. I also had confirmed at the entry that no land anglers had a
keeper since noon when the whole thing began.
I headed
off to my spot in the Longport area and was ready to start fishing around 9pm. The weather forecast was
right on, it dropped to dead calm. I looked out over the water to see if
i could see any fish popping on bait but I didn't immediately see any but
i thought i had seen some kind of bait flip and possibly a light swirl but i
wasn't sure. I tossed a pink zoom on a 1/2 ounce jig head out in the
water and flipped it over with a jigging motion every few reels. Not long
after i turned it over I had a solid halting hit, "YES they are
here". I can’t begin to describe
the relief I felt knowing that I quickly had something hooked and so fast.
The fish didn't come off the bottom right away and was putting up a decent
fight, halfway through the fight i lost any belief that it was a slot fish, but
would it make to 34”?. I brought the fish into the dark shallows and it
appeared to be about a 32" fish when i first looked at it in my light and
was very disappointed. “ohhh noooo its not a keeper of either kind” But once I lipped the bass and up righted it
out of the water it was bigger then i initially thought. “it’s got a chance”
I laid it flat and started to measure it and no matter how much light i
put onto that area or no matter how flat i kept the fish it kept coming up
at about 33.5" or 33.75" after about 4 or 5 different
attempts. In the back of my mind I knew the fish was out of the water too
long, and I quickly terminated the idea it could be a keeper and threw it back.
Watching its tail swoosh as it disappeared in the darkness I was left wondering
if I just watched my only chance swim off. I set up to start fishing
again and still no obvious surface activity but i swore i saw some bait fish
flip again. Maybe 2 casts later i was hit again and it felt like a
smaller fish and strangely enough it was exactly what i wanted. Again I
felt a sense of relief, as I brought this fish in it looked dangerously
close to the 28" mark, “don’t pop off, don’t do it, not now” I beached the
fish and this time luck was on my side and the fish measured in at 27.5" a
perfect sized slot fish. I knew i had the first legal fish of the contest
and i was already quite pleased. Back to casting looking for the upper
size keeper, i threw the jig out as hard as i could to try to cover as much
area as possible. Again with only a few cranks i received another solid
strike and i set the hook. There is a certain type of hook set where
you are positive you had a hit but it nearly feels like a snag or a rock and
yet you’re positive it's a fish. Experience has shown this is a usually a
very good thing. A bigger bass taking a jig off bottom will often try to
stay down and this fish didn’t make too many fast runs just steadily pulled
drag and wouldn't move off the bottom. I would regain a few yards and the
fish would take them back and again I’d reel back the line and she would take
them right back. Using my 7 foot bay rod I felt like i was in a bit of
stale mate for several tense moments. I started to get a familiar feeling
I often get, "just let me see the fish, even i lose it just let me see
it." I got the fish closer and it was just doing a somewhat slow zig
zag again staying dead on the bottom and pulling drag when it wanted to.
I very much wanted to just crank in that fish as I see in freshwater bass
tournaments but i felt like something just might snap if i did. It felt
like an eternity but the fish finally in one motion gave up its thick side
right at my feet and just laid there for me to pick it up. Again i didn't
realize how much it weighed until i went to lift it up and I felt the weight;
the fish measured 37" and weighed over 18lbs, a very nice Back Bay fish.
Just like
that. I had my limit and possibly had the tournament won already. Just
then i started to realize just how special of a night it really was, the bass
although quiet on the surface were there in force. I soon saw a half dead
peanut bunker come floating by it was a rare thing for the first week of
November either the conditions brought them in or it was a last school
remaining and the bass seemed to find them either way. Every few casts I
was greeted with a hit and i started to take some nice fish. In short
time I had 10 more fish, including releasing a 33" two 34"
ers and a 36" fish. The fishing was so great i decided to try
something different and switched to a a bomber partially because in the still
night i thought maybe i could get it out further and reach some bass I had
reached with the jig. As i was tying up a bass swirled on the surface
to my right and on my second cast I found out he was very much interested in
the bomber and i landed the 25" bass. I had been using a
new reel i had through a field test program, it had a new type of cam
driven anti reverse and it didn't have the small button to click it over to an
off or off position it was designed to always be on. A few casts later i
got absolutely hammered and after i set the hook i felt my first two fingers go
numb before i even realized what happened. This was a no doubt about it large bass
and it hit and made a run with such force that it took out the anti reverse and
the handle began to spin around backwards at a shockingly rapid rate. I went to try to grab onto the spinning
handle but it was moving too fast and nailed my fingers hard and the bass kept
going freely. As I shook my hand in pain I just watched as the reel was
just spinning wildly as the bass was still running at full tilt with no resistance
from my reel. I decided i would have to try again to grab the wildly
flailing reel handle which would most likely lead to more sore
fingers. Just as i was about to try to grab the run away train
handle the anti reverse reengaged and there was a huge jolt on my rod and
the drag spun wildly for about 5 seconds before everything went limp. The
anti reverse reengaged it put too much sudden pressure on the bass swimming at
full speed and the trebles pulled free.
I knew I had lost a sweet fish.
Just then i
realized my bliss of catching so well had clouded my judgment, this tide was
going to run to about 2am and tournament rules allowed for three fish to be
weighed in total. After midnight is when Saturday technically began,
by now it was about 10:30 pm I needed to stop hooking so many
fish and leave a few more for after midnight and get back to tackle shop for the
late weigh in. I arrived back at the tackle shop about 20 mins later and
there were a few guys sipping coffee at the garage next to the shop looking
somewhat bored. As i opened the back of my truck and lifted out the 18lb
bass I could hear "oh here we go" as i walked up i felt a few looks
like who the heck are you, never seen you before. The guy at scales
couldn't find my name at first then the guy who registered me explained i was
just there and had my entry slip. After the weigh in the same guy said to
me "you knew just where you were going to go" the other added
"if that big fish wasn't still wiggling I would have thought you were up
to something." All of this was a clear sign to me that the majorities
of the contestants were relying on day beach fishing and didn't realize the
power of the night bite.
I went to
the hotel before midnight and dropped off a bag and
downed a half a bottle of Gatorade and munched on some crackers was all ready
to head back to fishing. I was curious
to know if the fish were still on the feed. About 12:15 i was back for the official "Saturday"
day 2. The outgoing had started to slow and although the NW wind was gone
this tide was still a blowout and the water was way low, mud along the sod
banks that you usually is under water was now very visible for fifteen yards
from the shore. “Let’s see if some of
the bass are still there.” It was less then ten casts before I had the
very familiar hard hit on my jig followed by another terrific and took another
36" bass. I landed the bass and never broke stride and took it back
to my truck and left. It was my last keeper, i landed eighteen fish
total and i was thinking enough is enough and I will get a full night
sleep before the final weigh-ins. Now thinking back on that night i
often regret leaving although I couldn't keep anymore. The simple fact is
it was one in a million action with the amount and the class of fish
that was back there. I barely moved my feet and my cast was only covering
a fraction of the hole, there was a lot of good fish there that evening.
Thinking back now you have to make every good opportunity like it is your
last. Now that about 4 years have passed I haven't seen that type of fall
bay action since that night. Call me greedy but I wish I stayed for
the last hour of the tide.
I went back
to the hotel about 12:30 but i stopped at the waters edge
near the hotel to snap a few pictures of my last fish using the water near the
hotel as a backdrop. Just as I was setting up the tripod a bass
popped on bait directly behind where i was about to photograph. I grabbed
my rod out of the truck and on one cast the 27" er was on and I just
laughed out loud, this was truly a night where i couldn't do anything wrong.
The other
thing that was going on through the night was my constant update phone calls to
my friend who was at wedding ceremony and was unable to fish and although happy
for me, maybe, was in a lot of pain to hear what he was missing. I
have traditionally found the best time to make these calls is when someone
is detained and really wishing they were fishing, it tends to sink in
double.
 |
| Hey No Bass allowed in this Hotel! |
Well the
next day i had to wait until the final weigh in ended at noon. I had 41 pounds of fish and i
thought i had I great chance of taking the combined division of land and boat
division. However I’m not one to read things such as the contests rules I
had found out about myself. I weighed in my third fish and a closer
inspection of the rules says I can i only use one of the upper sized keepers
and the land/boat division was to be decided by a single overall heaviest fish
which seems to make no sense to me. I won the land division easy the next
back catch was a 15 lb fish. An angler who won the boat division had a 19
and 20 lb but didn't get a slot fish; another took a 21lb fish only but somehow
placed ahead of us to win the combined division. It was my first
tournament and it was alot of fun yet i haven't tried once since that
time. The best memories however were the kind of night it was and the
amount of quality fish present, I often wished I had fished longer then that
short window and just kept releasing fish because you never know when or if the
next super bite will happen. Although I started this by saying
tournaments weren’t my normal type of thing but I think about that and unlikely
i would have been in that area or at that time without the tourneys so I am
thankful and quite happy I did it.
 |
| Burgandy gills equals good fish |
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
JERSEY
GIRLS
For
years we had been chasing spring weakfish which are the big spawning fish. In recent times the sizes increased before
seemingly collapsing but for many years 6 to 9lb fish were common with fish
from 10 to 12lbs were head turning trophies.
We were successful in central NJ and Southern NJ but I was getting bored
with the same spots and some others had figured us out and some good quiet
spots were now overcrowded. I decided to
try the try the northern waters of NJ one night into day in mid May. The plan
was to start around 3 am at the turn of the tide
and if the tiderunner weakfish plan should happen to fall I would try for
stripers in the ocean at sunrise. I get
out on the water it’s a quiet night and the tide is in and has yet to start
moving out. I was using a pink zoom on a
½ oz jig head, the normal go to lure for these weakfish and I also welcomed any
bass that might be around. I started
with some bridge fishing, hoping the lights would bring in some bait fish and
then the predators after the bait. I
kept looking down at the water to see if the tide was moving yet, I started to
see white bubble coming back so slowly toward the bridge signaling the start of
the outgoing tide. The moment the water
started to move I started to see and hear some life in the water, it started
with a random splash off in the distance and then maybe another one off in the
distance. The fish that were showing up
with this now moving water started to hit, I felt a tug on my zoom pulled back
but missed. After reeling up the zoom I
gave it a quick inspection to find a deep slice across its side, the blue fish
were in. With each passing minute and as
the current began to pick up the sounds and splashes began to pick up more and
more, 1-4 lb blue fish were getting thick under the bridge. Bites were easy to come by but many of those
bites were resulting in zooms being bite in half or even worse yet biting the
entire jig off. I was landing some fish
but I was going through entirely too much tackle. My efforts to let the jig sink deeper get to
fish below all resulted in more blues.
Forty five minutes into the outgoing tide the water was a buzz saw of
bluefish, slashing and darting in the lights loud splashing could be heard
below and off into the darkness on either side of the bridge.
I hooked a blue that was a little larger
then most of the other, maybe a 5lber I held it on the surface on the water for
an extended amount of time thinking in my head my strategy for landing it,
“should I just try to crank it up or is it worth dropping the net down for this
one”. Without hearing anyone I approach I heard “what are you catching” I
turned my head to direction and there was a very elderly lady about two feet to
my right smiling in my face. I must have
jumped back 4 feet unsure if this was really a person who snuck up on me at 4:30am or some ghost who patrolled the bridge. Turns out she was just a stealth senior
citizen who was out for the earliest of early walks. The next people to arrive were two fisherman
equipped with snag rigs in search of bunker.
One looked over the side and signaled his friend who was on the other
side that the bunker were present.
“They’re blues actually, they are thick as anything” I said to him. He quickly dismissed what I advised, “no way,
they are bunker, there is a lot of em down there” a few casts with his bunker
snag and the treble sunk home, he quickly reeled it up, and he had snagged a 2
lb bluefish in the back, he sheepishly unhooked it and tossed it back. Shortly there after I decided Plan A wasn’t
working and decided to cut the night fishing and try for surf bass once the sun
came up. I drove a little further north
and took a break in my truck until sunrise.
I worked the morning surf tossing lures for an hour while clam fisherman
were catching bass, not just a few bass but a lot of bass, and they wanted
nothing to do with the lures. A quick
trip to the tackle shop and I was back to the sand with a half dozen clams, my ten
foot plug rod was able to lob toss 4 ounces with was fine on this flat day. I had bites on every cast and I was finally
able to land a 30” bass to somewhat salvage the morning. Back at the parking lot I exchanged how did
you do talk with another angler who came up from fishing the bay side. I told him about the good clam bite going on
he seemed interest in bass, he told me he only got two weakfish about
9lbs. The morning was over and I was
hungry but with hearing this got me thinking about getting right back into
those waders and trying Plan C, back to the bay. But first I took a break and went to the
nearest deli for some food and let the tide turn back over before trying again.
I
came back to water and slipped back into the waders and started off with the
familiar pink zoom on a ½ ounce jig head.
I worked an area of the bay side at the start of the incoming tide; I
cast for a half hour straight without a bite then I felt a quick strike hit and
set the hook, the fish didn’t feel big and no turn of the drag, it’s a two
pound blue fish, a false alarm. I worked
my back up the stretch to a nice looking hole about where I had started I gave
it about 25 to 30 casts without a hit and started to lose faith in finding any
weakfish on this morning. I had my jig in
the water and I had turned myself toward the shoreline to start to walk back when
I had a solid halting strike, I set the hook and instantly knew it was a
substantial fish rather then one of the cocktail blues. My drag started to spin confirming exactly
what I thought that it had to be something good “please don’t be a bass” It was
a hard running fish that made several great runs then just like that it came up
to the surface and rolled on the surface and I made out the spots on its back
and the purple hue of its side, “yep it’s a beautiful tide runner weakfish”. The fish continued to run deep then come back
up roll on the surface crash its tail and dive again; it was a glorious fight
which also made great visuals on the sunny may afternoon. I slide the fish onto the sand and I could
immediately see it was a good one and very thick, a quick weight check showed
the weakie was 12.25 lbs, after a quick photo I released the fish.
The
plan had come together; I had found a nice large tiderunner weakfish in these
northern water of New Jersey, when you first touch
that fish a great sense of accomplish comes over you but then the thoughts go
to “are there more”. The Tide was over
an hour into the incoming now and the current or tide must have put this fish
back on the feed. I worked the same hole
over and over as trophy weakfish are often thought of the fish of a thousand
casts. About 20 to 30 minutes later my
zoom was stopped in the same solid halt strike and once again I knew it was no
blue. I was started to take grab for
my camera as I fought this fish but an angler who was working a metal lure
nearby yelled over for me to hand the camera to him and he would snap pictures.
 |
| Me landing a nice Tiderunner |
This
second weakfish was another beauty at even 12lbs. I thanked the angler for his camera work, he
went back to casting his kastmaster he was looking for bluefish and he seemed
quite surprised to see these weakies.
Shortly after snapping these photos a 9lb male weakie struck his
Kastmaster and he landed one of his own.
The next 45 minutes or so were slow except for a bluefish or two; it was
now about 11:30 am and I had been up so
early and on my feet for a long time I decided to take a break. I went back to my truck and grabbed a cold
soda I decided to walk back toward the bay and sit on a hill that overlooked
the water. I sipped away at the soda and
I could see the other angler tossing his metal still, half way through my soda
I saw him set the hook on his second 9lb weakie. I quickly chugged the rest of my soda and
stood my fast, “break is over”!
It seemed like maybe there was still a few
fish around I snapped my waders back up fast and was back into the water for
more casting. The arm and shoulder
started to really tire from all the casting, during my break I also took a few
advil which were hopefully enough to get me through, after every 15 or 20 casts
id be stretching out my shoulder but I continued to push forward. Just a short time later I was reminded why I
kept casting away when the best weakie of the day hit, after another amazing
fight I slid a 12.75 lb weakie onto the sand.
I was elated to land my third weakfish over 12 lbs, which at the time
was a huge success, but a near disaster was about to strike once again. I looked down the tiderunner’s mouth and the
zoom was hooked way down deep I went for pliers in my bag on the shore line and
they weren’t there. I was very concerned
about unhooking this fish and getting it released quickly. I shuffled my hands through the sand looking
for the pliers suspecting I must have dropped them on the last fish but I still
came up empty. I made a split second
decision which turned out to be a bad one.
I decided to upright the fish on my boga gripper hold its mouth open, in
my mind I believed I could quickly reach in its mouth and have it unhooked in
seconds. I help the fish straight up and down and put hand into its mouth, the
weakie shook and twisted on the spring loaded gripper sending the weakie’s fang
teeth across two of my fingers. I pulled
out a bloody mess, it didn’t look good, and my first thoughts were I can’t
believe I’m going back to ER with another fishing injury. While looking at my fingers my forearm was
across my chest and I could feel something solid in the wader chest pocket, it
was my pliers. But why leave a good bite
I thought to myself. As always I was
totally unprepared no band aides or even anything to wrap my fingers in I
continued to cast while pressing my fingers hard into my neoprene waders
between each cast to slow the bleeding.
I gave it another 20 minutes or so without a strike, my hand was covered
in blood and my shoulder ached and I was spent so I called it a day. Luckily the fingers were about as borderline
as you get and never needed stitches.
In recent times the weakfish fishery has all
but collapsed before the recent down times I was eventually able to crack the 13lb
mark but the three big daytime girls in a time amongst 6 to 9lbers always
stands out as a sweet trip.
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MONTAUK, SURF CASTERS PARADISE
Sooner
or later a surf fisherman will get the urge to trek to new areas and fish new
waters often with the dream of better experiences, more blitzes and bigger fish,
when these thoughts go through the surf fisherman’s mind one area follows more
so then others, Montauk New York.
Stories of fishing from giant rocks and epic blitzing lasting through
out the day eventually reached me and I was intrigued with the idea. The fall run at the very tip of Long Island NY also seemed start a few
weeks earlier then the New Jersey run. My mind was made up; I was heading North to
the surf caster’s paradise. After
careful planning since summer I finally elected to go for a 3 day trip falling
on September 30th to October 2nd, with the idea being if
I catch a bad day, three days total in theory should eventually get me some
blitz action. About a month away from
the trip I stepped my biking and took some long walks to ready my legs for the
famed boulders and rough terrain I heard so much about. The day was getting closer, about a week away
and my excitement was quite high, an approaching weather report took a way a
chunk of my enthusiasm. A nor’easter
storm was on a collision course for New York and New Jersey and was going to hit
before my scheduled trip. The trip took
its second hit when my friend and fishing partner Mike had to suddenly
cancel. I was scheduled to leave about 2:30 am on a Thursday morning and the storm hit hard on
a Monday night and last threw the day Tuesday.
Images of a New Jersey showed water nearly flowing over the se walls and
a commercial boat had crashed into the rocks inside the jetty, “this can’t be
good” for my fishing which was only two days later. That morning I woke up only after a few hours
of sleep and left about 2:30 am as planned all was going well until I reached
the George Washington bridge and a sign was blinking that read: Bridge closed from 12am to 5am for
construction” Amazingly I somehow did have another set of alternate directions
that took me through the heart of New York city and to the Long Island
Expressway. I rerouted from New Jersey and headed back up 95
for the tunnel into New York city.
Driving down the city streets lined with
enormous tall building with my rods pushing forward to the front seats didn’t
quite totally feel I was headed for fishing.
Once I cleared the tunnel into queens and battled aggressive bread
trucks for position on the LIE I felt like I was on my way. I traveled about 5 miles on the LEI when I
started to see more flashing lights and signs dumping traffic off the highway,
again I was hitting roadwork which was closed until morning. The construction sent the traffic onto to
side roads that parallel the highway; the drawback was these roads were municipal
side streets with a speed limit of about 35 mph. I assumed the construction would only be a
city block or two but blocks turned to miles and the amount of closed road
seemed endless, as I continued along the closed road at a speed of 30 miles an
hour. Between the bridge and the closure
along the LIE I was falling way behind schedule but I eventually was able to
get back onto the expressway on my way to route 27 to Montauk, As it was
getting light out I made one final wrong turn to add to the misery and broken
schedule, by the time I rerouted back onto the expressway there was about a 2
mile back to the exit onto route 27.
I finally did arrive at Montauk that morning
and elevation and the ocean became visible as I was passing just west of hither
hills, the uphill ascend up toward the point was more then enough to get the
blood flowing. When I arrived at lookout
point I immediately noticed a low amount of vehicles in the parking lot. The stormed had passed and it was getting
very sunny and warm out already, when I looked out over the water it was a
brown tea color, immediately providing me the answer to why there were no cars.
Brown dirty water and a high pressure front cooled off any enthusiasm I had for
a great first day. I knew from weather reports they were calling
for highs close to 70 degrees on this last day of September, already around
8:30 walking with a waterproof jacket was starting to feel warm. Walking the beaches of Montauk for the first
time, the first thing I noticed was the sounds created from thousands of tiny
pebbles washing over thousands of other pebbles along the beaches. A few anglers had taken up positions on large
rocks on the north side but the posture was more of waiting around for something
to happen. I walked around for a few
hours without seeing a single fish caught.
I finally decided to just wait around Turtle cover area, casting for a
while then rest for a bit on a large rock and repeat. By noon the temperatures had
surpassed what they called for, it was 75 degrees and not a cloud in the sky
and my skin felt very warm from the sun which was beating down all
morning. Just when I thought the water
was too dirty I finally did see a striper taken about 30 yards to my left
toward the Pillow box under the lighthouse.
A few minutes the same angler had another bass on and although I was at
the water fishing there was about a dozen guys sitting on the rocks and they
all started to notice too. Looking back
I could see anglers grabbing their rods pulling up their waders and heading to
the water, there was virtually no one to my right side for a good distance; the
anglers were all headed to fill in small gaps in between the 4 anglers to my
left. I kept throwing my 1.5oz white
buck tail and curly tail repeatedly out in the surf without a hit only a few fish were being caught mostly by
the original angler and his partner. I
finally felt a double bump on my bucktail and I pulled back and set the hook on
my first Montauk striper, My 10 foot rod double over and it felt great, the
trip was suddenly a huge success just as my drag started to turn a little. As I was fully enjoying my first hook up just
like that my line went slack as the bass had shook the hook and the disappoint
set back in. That would be my only hit
of the afternoon as the school of bass that moved into the tea colored surf was
short lived before they moved on.
Thinking back it was a huge piece of luck that any fish hit at all that
day with the post storm conditions.
Day
two I was woekn around 5am by a loud voice outside my hotel room door I soon
could tell the loud voice was discussing fishing with another guy leaving the
next room over. This time of year
everyone the town was mostly quiet and the ones there were around one reason,
fishing. Getting ready that morning I
noticed my arms and hands were tanned from day long sun and clear blue skies of
Thursday. Once I arrived at the point
the sun was about to come up, a fisherman passed me along the trail to the
north side, he informed he had been fishing since 9pm without a strike, which
is exactly the way I didn’t want to start the day. The early morning hours came and went again
with warm temps and no bite. The water
had improved greatly but still did not look a 100 percent. I killed time by watching an occasional
resident schoolie picked off under the lighthouse but the wait for a rock to
fish there was always 2 or 3 guys deep.
The area under the lighthouse has a narrow rock walkway which sits
abound 30 yards high off the water and connects the north and south side; this
area provided the best lookout for slow periods. Once again by mid day I felt the sun beating
down on me and I was actually get quite a tan on this first day of
October. Just like the day before around
the noon hour something happened and with the improving water conditions bass
came out of no where and were suddenly purposing dead in front of the
lighthouse just slightly toward the south side, many of the bass were dead
against the rocks raising there backs out of the water every few seconds. The problem was the fish were about 30 feet
below us on an almost straight drop down the rocks, any bass of size we hooked
would be nearly impossible to land.
However slow mornings and rising fish attract a crowd and that they did
for not only surf anglers but it wasn’t long before the boats seen the fish
too. Within minutes a handful of boats
closed in tight to the rocks, I made a cast and felt some tension, I had
tangled with a boater’s line they aggressively yelled for me to stop reeling,
for a moment I forgot they were the intruders on our surf water which suddenly
held the fish. Bass were in surf still
surfacing yet the only person to hook up was a man with a 7 foot rod more
suited for weakfish and what looked like 12lb mono, he was also using 3” wild
eye storm lures. The Wild eye storm lure
seemed to be more of Jersey lure at the time,
Montauk was big on Buck tails and still is and shad lures seemed to be behind
the times by about 2 years for the Montauk area. This angler was right next to me and he
hooked what looked like a few 28-30” bass that were quickly snapped his line.
The
boat that had tangled my line a few minutes earlier was having zero success and
decided to leave the area and at full bore.
The angler about 2 guys down from began to frantically yell and wave at
the boat that was headed right toward his pencil popper. The boat didn’t hear or care and went right
over the angler’s lure and the line was quickly sucked into his engine’s prop. The angler did everything to hang on to his
rod as the boat was rapidly stripping line off his Van Staal, he lost yards of
line before the boat finally broke his power pro other fisherman joined in
yelling at the boat as they speed off.
Even
though the fish were around I decided my current position atop the high rocks
just wasn’t going to work and I headed toward the Southside for level ground. I passed the pillow block just there the high
rocks start to descend, I was walking down the thin walkway past the pillow
block where the furthest sand and rock corner area of Turtle Cove began. Another angler had the same plan I did hoping
the fish would move a little further south he had hoped a rock before me and
was immediately hooked up just about the same time I saw some surface activity
now in front of us. I looked down and
saw some rough waves crashing inside this corner area of the beach but I did
see one nice almost cement colored rock with rough texture that looked perfect
for standing on with little chance of slipping.
The only problem was directly in front of it about 15 yards out in the
water was an enormous bolder with a wide flat surface. When the large waves came in the bolder would
submerge momentarily under about a foot of water before coming out of the water
about 2 feet as the waves and water went back out. It wasn’t long before I could see I picked a
good spot, I could see stripers backs coming out of the water at times directly
in front of me. The fish weren’t really blitzing
there was just a school of bass cruising tightly together close to the rocks. I immediately went to a small lure method,
one of favorite Jersey and PA lures a 5 inch white sassy shad one a ¾
ounce jig head with the thought of going light.
As I cast I could see bass swimming around right in front of the large
flat rock directly in front of me. I
went a few casts before altering my tactic slightly. Id time my cast so it
landed just beyond the flat rock just as a wave came washing over it. I was flipping my bail before the lure even
it hit work and immediately lifting the rod once it did to keep the shad high
in the column. First effort drew and immediate hard strike, “YES I’m finally in”
as I set the hook. I was fighting my
bass and then something occurred to me, I would have to fight the fish just right
to get it to clear the large flat bolder which was also flanked by smaller
rocks on either side. I fought the fish
just to the other side of the rock and kind of held it there in a stalemate
until a wave came and with a big pump of my rod I pulled the bass into the wave
and had it clear the rock with the wave.
It was a nice healthy looking 28” inch fish. I quickly figured out the bass were using the
current and breaking waves against this large rock to pick off disoriented bait
fish, using that same tactic of not letting my lure sink beyond the break and
raising my rod put my sassy shad right into the strike zone. At times I could feel my lure going over
striper’s backs but all the hits would happen just over the rock. Many of my casts would draw a strike, the
angler to my left was into fish also but we appeared to be the only ones doing
anything. Trying to horse my fish over
the large rocks was quite a task but I somehow managed to do it without breaking off
once.
Our bent rods started to draw attention too,
as we were fishing in somewhat of a cove area anglers a good 40 yards to my
left turned sideways and started to land their pencil poppers dead in front of
me, I wouldn’t have cared so much if they would have timed it that that were
working the water while I was almost in but instead it just turned into a big
mess but I mind that much as I was elated to be into my first good Montauk
bite. I landed about 7 or 8 fish before
the bite ended. The weather again just
seemed entirely too nice with temps in the high 70s with nearly zero wind. I did walk all over the rest of the afternoon
and continue to cast without a hit and unfortunately that mid day bite was the
only action for the day. Back at the
hotel later that evening I could feel the effects of two days of crouching on
rocks and casting the 10 foot rod all day.
I took and extra long hot shower to try to loosen up some before doing
it one more time the next day. The next
day would be a Saturday and I had really hoped the best action would have happened
before the weekend crowds.
Saturday
morning I woke up and decided to take a huge chance and skip the morning and
put all my effort into fishing after 10 am, there already seemed to be somewhat
of a mid day pattern so I took the extra time to rest up. Saturday started with
early sunshine once again and it looked it was going to be another very warm
sun filled low wind day. I headed up to
the point around 10 am and when I got there I
was relieved to find out that all signs indicated a zero morning bite yet
again. I had already made my way down to the beach through turtle cove and
walked down to the south side with no signs of life, a trip over to the north
side produced the same results, close to noon I decided to walk up
under the light house and watch the anglers work for the resident shorts. Being under the lighthouse perched atop the 40-50’
high hill also gave you the best visuals of both the north and south side. I was up on top long when two things started
to happen, a large cloud base was moving into the area and the once very sunny
morning was nearly immediately gone. The
other thing going on was the anglers fishing under the lighthouse were into a
moderate pick of mid sized bluefish. About every 5 minutes one or two 5-6 bluefish
were being caught on a long cast off the lighthouse rocks. At least it was action going on, a few
anglers started to cast from high atop the rocks where I was watching these
anglers who were catching below us. Lines were going nearly over shoulders of
the anglers fishing below and the few anglers who did hook into a bluefish had
to hoist and bounce them up the high rock wall was enough for me to view and
decide to just watch. This went on for
about 20-25 minutes when one of the anglers below hooked up and landed a
beautiful 32” bass, a sign of hope.
Several minutes later an angler fishing from up top also hooked into a
bass of similar size but was unable to land it from the top level.
What
transpired next was truly an image to remember. A lot of Fisherman seemed to be
looking off in the same direction just slightly off to the north side. I looked up a quarter mile out from weakfish
rock the water was just a massive purple blob which appeared to be about an
acre wide. Blues? These fish were thick and tight together and
all we could do was hope they were headed toward the beach. Here is where I made my first mistake I was
so taken with the massive school I was just watching from up top the rocks
while all the other anglers sprung into ready mode and started to move from the
shore lines to rocks and key areas should fish hit the beach. Just then what we didn’t want to happen did,
the boats were out fishing deep and one of the fly charter boats saw the fish
and had come flying in full bore. About
fifty surf anglers were waving and screaming as the boat got close to the fish
still in high gear. You have to wonder
why a charter would do this rather then come in slowly and get a better
position without spooking the fish, however their clients must not be the best
casters and the plan must be to get right on top of the fish just to try to
hookup at least once. The boat ended up
in the middle of the purple blob, the angler on the front did hook up and the
remainder of the fish did go down. There
was a collective sigh along the shore lines as the surf
anglers
wondered if we missed our opportunity.
I
was still up top the high rock walkway when it happened a few minutes later, it
seemed like suddenly and simultaneously bass broke out all over the surf line
in very close breaking water, their backs purposing through the waves as they
were swimming so tight together. The fish were just south of me with a large
mass of fish off weakfish rock, the fisherman perched on that rock was hooked
up fast. I started to walk down the
walkway fast as my eyes darted back and forth along the shore line looking for
an open spot but fisherman seemed to be everywhere now as they had positioned
themselves carefully once fish were spotted off in the darkness. I got to the shallow cove that separates the
lighthouse rips and the weakfish rock area. The very inside of the cove was
about 30 feet below and was open but was very shallow water and set back
further in land then the rest of the shoreline.
Just as I was considering fishing there the school of fish was making
its way south right out in front of the cove. I jumped hoped and skipped my way
down the rock face, I could feel the speed my body was in motion way to fast,
my corkers screeched but held and I landed hard in the bottom of the cove and I
looked up to see the whole school pouring into the cove. The water looked to be only about 2 foot
deep, there were about 3 other fisherman about 50 feet out further perched on
rocks on either side of the cove. The
water was churning white in spots fish tails and striped backs were coming
clear out of the water inside the cove. These bass were now directly in front
of me and I couldn’t believe my luck as this unwanted shallow spot was now full
of bass. I let off a cast but then I noticed a problem, the anglers perched on
either side of the cove who were fishing the deep water had turned sideways
once the bass had come into the cover and their lines were coming in sideways
preventing my ability to make a moderate length cast, but at that moment it didn’t
seem to matter as the bass were nearly at my feet.
The angler next to me was landing a nice bass of
around 31” when I felt the double bump on my white bucktail and I quickly
brought in a schoolie bass. The next few
casts were just gently flipped directly into bass boiling the shallows the
bucktail would bump bump bump across a few backs usually first until another
bass saw it and sucked it in. I took a
couple of bass and then just like that the school started to pull out of the
cove beyond my reach and I was once again without a premium location. Looking off to the left and right bent rods
were a common sight as bass had a large area of the shore line. I could see fish being caught under
lighthouse and again I found myself watching rather then fishing. There appeared to be a lull under the
lighthouse and an angler who was satisfied motioned to me that he was about to
leave and I could have his rock. The
rock he was fishing was an excellent one; it was one of the few large rocks
that face the deep water right on front of the lighthouse. I now had an excellent place to fish but at
least for the time being the fish were down.
This was almost my first experience with fishing the lower rocks below
the lighthouse where it can be common that waves crash into the rocks and
sometimes even over your head. The day before I had the same rock while the
action was dead just as I was about to vacate the rock I had turned my back to
the ocean for a second to look for a flat spot to step to when seemingly out of
no where I felt water rushing over my back and head and I could see heavy water
pouring down the front of face over my hood.
I was perfectly dry inside my drop top, but I had taken my first
sizeable Montauk wave and reminded me to always keep at least one eye on the
water at all times.
Today
I’d watch the incoming waves with interest on this mild day most would break
just at the rocks and light amounts of spray would hit my shins or wash just
over my corkers. Suddenly just in front
of me a nice pod of bass boiled on the surface; again my bucktail casts into
the school were met by the feel of many backs under the water as the bass were
so thick. A few casts into the pod of
bass i felt a solid thump and I was into a near 30” bass, as I got the bass
close I realized that landing a fish under the light house with the sudden
waves breaking wasn’t easy, I steadied the bass just below my rock while
looking at the water and pop he was off, Perfect release! A few cast later I had a near repeat
performance complete with the bass spitting the hook a few feet away from the
rocks which was exactly what I wanted as I was intending to keep any fish.
Before the school moved I took a third fish and this time I got the full
landing experience of waiting between waves to reach down and grab the leader
and hoist the bass up onto the rock for the release. Another fifteen minutes went by without a hit
and this school of fish had clearly moved out or onward. I could have stayed put and waited for
another school to pop up here but I was a little tired of crouching on the
rocks and I decided to take a gamble, stretch the legs and see if the fish were
also showing up on the south side of the lighthouse. I walked down the rock walkway toward turtle
cove and I immediately saw 2 nice bass lying in the sand away from the water
near the bass of the rocks beside two fishermen in jeans, the other thing I
noticed was turtle cove was nearly empty besides the 2 blue jean clad
fisherman. About 25 guys were lumped up
150 yards to the south just before Browns; a sure sign of the fish were there
or last seen there. “They were here good
20 minutes ago then all the fish moved south we didn’t feel like chasing them”
the two guys said to me. We chit chatted about the action for a few minutes
when directly in front of us on the far north end of turtle cove a huge boil of
fish broke out. I didn’t run to the
water but I did make a cast before even getting close to the water, my bucktail
landed in the boil and was almost immediately struck by a striper. When I reared back for the hook set the sight
of the bent rod and boiling fish sent just about every guy to the south in a
sprint for my position, I remember fighting the fish and looking to the right
and seeing anglers in full sprint up the beach.
By the time I was releasing the bass I was fully engulfed in a crowd,
the fishing was now full on combat style fishing, guys were in tight casting
feverishly at the school lines were crossing everywhere with most people not
willing to work with other anglers who were hooked up. I muscled another bass though the lines but
the bites were hard to come by and guys were jocking for position and weaving
in and out of spots and it wasn’t long before it was clear the fish had moved
again while the anglers remained behind
still frantically casting lures. As it
turned out this seemed to be the last flurry of action for the afternoon and
about 3 pm I headed up the dirt pathway to the
parking area. Before taking off all the
gear and loading up the truck I took a last look over the water over the
lighthouse and north side, the sights and sounds of Montauk would stay with me
always, as I pulled out of the parking lot tired sore and smiling and I knew
this wasn’t the last time I would fish the surfcasters Paradise.
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The LATE XMAS Gift
Many
striper anglers seem to always have foggy memories of catching bass in New Jersey right into January but the truth of
the matter is it’s hard to have a continued bite without a cold snap coming
along and send the bass far south for the season. This is especially true for the back bay
which cools off faster then the ocean.
Every now and then we get a special mild fall without the hard cold snap
right after Thanksgiving to keep the season going. This happened back in 2002 the same time of
the “Chilly Dip” the back bay bite in southern NJ went on through December and
just didn’t want to stop. Christmas day
came and it was cold but a still day with a forecast of almost no wind until
nearly morning when a cooler front might come through. Fishing at night you can usually take cold if
there is no chilly wind blowing. Christmas
day is for opening gives and seeing family but what can you really do at
night? Everything is closed, why not
head out to the bay after dark was our strategy. I picked up Mike and we headed out for a late
night session in south New Jersey.
The strategy of the night was to do some bridge fishing, hoping to keep
a keeper bass or two hanging around the structure.
The forecast held up, the night was
cool but virtually no wind when we started.
We arrived around midnight to find a single angler in a very
small john boat out on the water. After
we geared up and headed out over the water the angler in the small boat fired
up his motor and started to come our way and yelled to us that he caught two
40” bass, he then throttled off into the distance obviously done for the
night. Never really knowing what to
expect from someone’s reports and especially one you didn’t ask for I mostly
shrugged this information off and the sizes certainly didn’t sound consistent
with other catches of late. We worked
jigs around the structure and the shadow line and it wasn’t long before we
started to find some bass. Once we set
the hook on fish one thing was evident their fight ability was down often
waddling more then hard runs, a sign that seasons end was near, however there did appear to be a few
respectable sized fish still in the bay.
Looking down into the water I thought I was seeing 10” fish darting
around the shadow line but I wasn’t sure if my eyes were playing tricks on me
on this dark night. Bait fish of this
size didn’t seem right especially for this time of year. Over the course of an hour or so I probably
seen these reoccur a few times and I finally got a good look at some on top,
they were sea herring. Mike and I were
fishing about 30 to 35 yards apart when I made out a the outline of striper
sitting in the current and its back was thicker then the average sized bass, it
appeared to about a 15 pound fish and it was just under the surface right below
me. Before I could toss a lure in its
direction Mike was calling for help with netting a fish. “Oh man this better be good” The nice fish I
expected to see on the end of his line turned out to be only about a 27” fish. After netting this whopper I returned to spot
where I saw the nicer fish but it was gone. The tide was coming in and we continued our
pick of fish for a bit. I kept my eyes
glued to the water looking for any bass cruising the shadow line. About 45 Minutes after seeing that first fish
I again struck visual paydirt when I
looked into the water and I again saw a 15lb class bass just sitting in the
current below the surface once again, then my eyes caught something slightly to
this fishes’ left there was a much thicker looking fish with it. History started to repeat once again complete
with Mike yelling for help with a bent rod.
I did what anyone would do in my position; I totally ignored his cries
for help and stayed with this fish. Mike
got the hint and started to slowly walk toward the shoreline with his fish.
I made a very short cast and slowly brought
the jig by the striper’s face but it just held its position in the
current. Then I decided to make a change
of tactic and moved right over top of the bass from my position on the bridge
and just lightly dropped my jig into the water about 5 yards up current. I held my rod in a position so the pink zoom
would just drift with the current just under the surface right into the
striper’s face, and when it got there I saw its body flex and my rod doubled
over, I set the hook and it instantly sent the bass thrashing on the surface,
water was flying everywhere but I got a clear view of thick silver striped
sides and I knew the bass was bigger then I originally thought. It even though it was only moment it felt
like an eternity that the bass was thrashing with minimal distance between my
rod and the hook I feared a break off, I pulled some line off my drag just to
get the bass back under water. Then it
started to make a vicious run back toward the bridge with the current I
suddenly found myself cranking down the drag now. I stopped the run but the bass was under the
bridge and for a nervous minute I thought he had me beat, I stayed calm and out
maximum pressure on my rod and trusted my 30 pound braided line and I slowly
stopped its run and brought it below me again.
I looked to my left and the net was about 20 feet away and it was clear
if I made and parallel movements I could risk losing the fish. “MIKE NET”
. Mike was on the side seemingly
unhooking a fish. My screams pierced the
quiet Xmas night, “NETTTT” I need ya” He finally looked up and I was yelling ‘big
fish get out here fast”. It felt like I
was holding the fish on the surface for an eternity. The current was strong now and about every 10
seconds the fish would waddle and slide back some and I was putting major
torque on the rod to keep the fish from going deep and under the bridge. I was just waiting for it to pop off or the
line to break at any second.
Mike finally made his way to where I was
looked over the rail and I was stunned for a second when he saw its thick
back. “Net it!!!” He threw the net down
too fast and it landed right on the bass’s back, I quickly fired him from his
net duties and handed him the rod, I dropped the net and slid perfectly under
the bass. As soon as I lifted the basket
out of the water and felt the weight I knew it was a nice back bay bass. Shortly
after taking this fish the front moved in and the wind started to build and
within an hour it was cold and blustery, the season was dying and we could feel
it. The bass later weighed in at 22
lbs, a very large bay fish. We took out 5 herring out of its stomach, some
nearly intact, a true sign that some larger fish had followed in these herring
that seemed to show up out of no where for Xmas. I finished the night with 11 other bass and
it went down as a classic Christmas tale on the back bay.
 |
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RARITAN WEAKIES
The late
1990s, there actually was good stocks of weakfish in New Jersey waters as of lately they come in
much less numbers and even later then they once did. One summer in the
late nineties Mike and I had been catching some weakfish in south NJ, the
season was still young, about mid July but we were already hungry for more and
larger fish. Eager to try something different we started to hear about a
large amount of nice weakies that had allegedly moved into the Raritan Bay. Prior to this I had only
fished on the outside or ocean side and never actually fished inside the bay
itself. But we also heard that open party boats were running dedicated
weakfish trips, an unheard of concept now a day. Mike and I decided to give it
a shot and picked a day to try some party boat fishing in the Raritan bay.
We left
from Manasquan and misjudged the amount of lights and weekday rush hour traffic
there would be. We made it quite interesting making it to the Atlantic
Highlands marina barely on time. In fact it was so close we felt
like we needed to run and dive onto the boat as it pulled away like in a
movie but it was still tied up as we ran through the parking lot and hoped on
board and found an unexpected thing, a few open spots almost completely at the
back starboard side of the boat. Mike
had a clear 4 or 5 spots open to his left and i had about 2 before the next
fisherman which was in the back corner of the boat so there was actually plenty
of room in this area we selected. The weather report for the day didn't
look good, there was a good chance of rain and it was only supposed to be a
high of about 73 degrees with threatening clouds all day, the only positive was
extremely light winds.
The
boat left the marina around 7:30 am and it wasn't far from clearing the
jetties that we started to see blues working on the surface.
"Oh it’s going to be a good day" the mate behind us said. I was
almost half surprised the boat didn't stop to bend some rods but as this was a
dedicated weakfish trip they held their course, destined for the channels.
The tactic of the day was worming, dropping down sandworms on high low rigs,
with the light amount of wind only weights of 2 to 4 ounces were needed.
This was a new tactic to us but when it Rome why not do as the Romans would
do. The boat came to halt and the captain sounded the horn to drop the
lines. The first drift was to the starboard side making our drop go just
out from the boat slightly. Once we hit bottom we began to work on
rods just slightly up and down. Within in less then a minute an angler
to our left was hooked up just when i felt a tap tap tap on my line and
set the hook. After a brief fight i was bringing an 18 inch
weakfish into the boat, A quick sign that the bite be on.
It wasn't
long before all the rods start to bend all over the boat and everyone started
to land nice school sized weakies. The sandworms dropped down into the
channel and jigged slightly were too much for the weakies to resist and they
were coming up all over the rails in sizes mostly ranging from 14 to 21 inches,
but there were definitely some larger fish mixed in. A few rain drops
began to fall we pulled out our rain gear and just as we were starting
think it was going to put a damper on all the fun, the rain stopped and
never returned. I had brought a bucket of killies in case we ran into
some fluke. Even dropping down killies weakies were all over them,
it was clearly gonzo type action.
Possibly from all the weakies in the bay there were also many 2 to 5 lb blues
there with them. We started to notice that anglers who hooked into
weakies and yanked and cranked them up fast off the bottom the weakies were
actually coughing up their swim bladder. As we started to look out behind
the drift we saw a fair amount of short weakies floating on the surface that
didn't survive the release due to this. Although this was bad for the
conservation aspect it also caused something else. We began to see the
blues start to attack dying shorts on the surface and it also wasn't long
before they started to find our worms off the bottom. Now worms on the
bottom i can't think of a better way to avoid blues and we did avoid
many but a few found their way down to them and started to hit them.
By this
time Mike also had taken 2 nice weakfish in the 5lb range about 25 inches long
and we were thoroughly enjoying the success. An angler on the other side
of the boat reeled up a 5 lb blue fish on the other side and we could clearly
see him through the cabin. The reason we looked was because we heard him
let out a yell when the blue clamped down on his hand between his index finger
and thumb. He attempted to take the hook out in a careless manner and the
blue got him, but what he did next was worse, he instinctly shook the bit hand
and dropped the blue which caused a nasty tear from the weight shift of the
blue before it let go and fell. I saw a little more of his hand then i
wanted to and was pretty bloody, they quickly brought him towels and ice.
The blood soaked through the towels quick enough and you could tell he needed
more then a few stitches. We selfishly looked at each and wondered
if the boat would turn back, but this angler had to suck it up for a few hours
as the boat stayed out on the water and kept fishing. It turned he wasn't
the only or last angler to bleed on that day.
We really
started to put up a good catch of weakies, Mike probaby had 4 or 5 fish in that
at or close to 5lb range and had a good quantity but mostly fish up to 22
inches and a couple of blues mixed in. Mike had a fish that was bending
his medium rod pretty good as it got closer to the surface we could see it was
one of those 5lb bluefish so that’s when Mike decided to really crank it in
double time. The fish was near the boat and Mike was cranking away as it
breached the surface he went for one big pump to attempt to lift the fish out
of the water. In an issue of perfect timing the blue bit threw the mono just
as Mike gave it a big pull to try to get it to breach the surface as i
watched. About the next 10 seconds of time seemed to skip by erratically.
I remember hearing a loud knocking sound and i found myself
involuntarily seated on the bench along the boat's side and for a few
seconds i truly wasn't sure if i was home in bed or not. Then I noticed a
guy some close to me, Ok I think I am on boat fishing, it was the angler to my
right and he was looking at me like he had just witnessed something very
horrible. "Oh man are you alright" I felt like some fog
was started to clear in my head and i looked to my left and Mike was laughing
hysterically. That was when i started to piece things together. The
loud noise I heard was Mike's 4 ounce sinker striking me just below the
eye. When the blue bit off it came flying back pendulum style and caught
me square on the orbital, all of which seemed very funny to Mike. I
remembered a documentary type show i once saw about someone getting struck with
a baseball bat and hearing the aluminum bat noise as it struck their skull and
wondering what that sound was. I had just gone through a similar situation;
i never really felt it at first just heard that loud knock and some
confusion. Now that the cobwebs were clearing after a few minutes of some
borrowed ice from our cooler I was back to fishing and pounding the
weakfish. I remember feeling some liquid running down my face and touched
my cheek, it was blood coming from my below eye, catching lots of fish is the
best medicine though; I just wiped it away and kept on fishing.
It was a
great day of fishing, i believe the pool winner which was taken next to us was
about a 7 lb fish and Mike had the hot hand among us with about 5 or
6 fish in the 4 to 5 lb range and we took close to 40 fish each.
With the exception of maybe the guy needed stitches all anglers
were happy and joyful all day, luckily my eye injury wasn't so bad and it just
became another thing to laugh at for the guy who hurdled into my
face. Later that Friday night we celebrated the nice day at
Leggets bar. A few beers turned into a few more and we revisited and retold
all the stories of the day and laughed again about the knot on my eye. It
was getting late and eventually the gears started to turn in our heads.
"Hey you know we never did get any fluke" "Yeah
it was good but a few fluke would have been nice" We started to
think out loud. "The fluke boats should be leaving in only 5 or 6
hours" "I’m good with 4 hours sleep if you are" "Yeah, fluke, yeah
lets do it" We downed our beers and left around closing time. The alarm went off a few hours
later sounding louder then ever, the effects of a late night a few beers
were quickly shook off once we breathed in the salt air and we headed to the
docks ready for a day of fluking.
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BIG FISH SCREW JOBS
I was
recently reminded of one of our successful big striped bass outings that
occurred two months earlier. It was a
hot summer day and Mike and I were headed out to do some fluke fishing, wearing
shorts I noticed the half inch looking scar on Mike’s shin, “is that from the
May trip”? “Yep that’s from that bastard
on the jetty” Like a good friend I immediately started cracking up at the site
of his souvenir from full contact combat fishing and it wasn’t the only
incident over a few days. The time was
late May 2010 and adult bunker had entered the waters of NJ and there bass on
their tails, big bass ranging from 17 to 50 pounds.
We arrived
at an area around 2:30 PM, a favorite jetty of mine only to
find about 3 or 4 bait rods going in every direction taking up much of the
room. We looked out over the water and
we could see about 3 boats about a ½ mile south near a jetty and the first thing
I noticed was how close they were to the beach and how close together they
were. I took a long look at the
direction with binoculars but the day was a foggy one and I couldn’t see much,
this fog also was keeping just about every boat at the docks but the only 3
boats on the water were 15 feet apart.
We moved the truck closer down the beach and once we parked and started
to gear up we could see anglers on the tip of a jetty hooked up, we threw on
the waders, belt and corkers at double time now. Walking to the jetty I increased my pace to
double time as I seen an angler on the tip hoist up a 20 lb class bass. Other anglers waiting in near by parking also
started to stir behind us. I stepped up
onto the rocks less the half way out and started to toss a 3 oz pencil popper
to my right a few anglers were hooked up again but the front of the jetty was
too crowded I had to sit and hope the fish would make their way in. Mike was to my left working a large Polaris
popper. Only about 5 minutes into our
fishing Mike said “Matt bunker all over”
“Where???” “right in front of
us”
I looked down to see a thick school
of bunker in the waves and every few seconds an enormous silver flash would happen
as huge bass sucked down a bunker. Our
hearts were racing now anticipating strikes we each had a few lazy strikes on
our popper yelling out “HE MISSED” when they didn’t take it down. These fish were keyed in on the bunker; I
made a split second decision and went for my bag, “snag snag snag”. I pulled out a size 10 snag hook from my
bagged and flipped it into the thick bunker just a few feet off the rocks and
begin to whip the rod to foul hook one of the bunker. I snagged one stopped reeling and raised my
rod tip it took all of less then 10 seconds for a big bass to see this bunker
swimming just a little different the rest of the school, the fish never really
hit as much as he just grabbed it and ran hard, “HOOKED UP” “Fish on, here we go” my reel started to
scream and my line went taunt on the water, then just like that I saw it, a
large popper coming straight down the water from the pocket near the beach
crossed my line. An angler fishing down
by the beach was casting at an upward angle to get to the bunker; other lines
casting outward from the jetty were not a consideration of his plan. Rather then come up and pass me he pulled
which made the popper swing and wrap around my braid a few times. Fighting this fish I didn’t have many options
I had to keep it from running up the jetty and picking up additional lines. The guy’s popper goes right to my rod tip and
then the absolute worst possible scenario happened my braided line went inside
the split rings one of the hooks and the lure and line just stopped at my rod
tip in a big mess. I instinctively
lowered the rod and I was actually fighting the fish with my hand but when it
tugged back I realized this was a bad idea and could easily slice my fingers up
good. All I could do was hold onto the
rod while this other angler tried to free the lure but it was hopeless, a minute
later I know longer felt any tension and my line went slack and the large
striper was gone.
A day later
was a repeat of NE conditions combined with a rising afternoon tide with a full
moon approaching. The fish came back and
at one point the came in hard, the news of big fish was out which brought out
the anglers in force. Although we
started out as one of the maybe three other guys on the jetty it eventually
became 35 guys elbow to elbow up and down the jetty from the beach to the tip. It started with a mini blitz with a few 20lb
class showing up real fast but at least we were into them before the mass of
anglers saw or got the word and joined us out on the rocks. There was a time we wondered if that was it
and the window closed or if the fish would come back. Come back they did however and in thick
numbers, the other unique thing that happened was the fish came inside the
north side of the jetty nearly from the pocket to the tip giving ever angler
out there a chance. The other reasonably
good thing that happened that day was the conditions were sending one foot or
better waves of water over the rocks.
This didn’t faze the fisherman with corkers but it sent a few of the
blue jean and sneakers on their butts now and then. The good part of this was you could easily
land a hooked bass by timing it with an incoming wave and a good pump of the
rod would bring your fish right onto the rocks in a hydroplane fashion.
The fish
seemed to be swaying up and down along the rocks and double hooks or better were
common. Mike and I separated by about 15
yards as I chose to take on more waves and press out toward the front
more. Mike was having troubles with his
reel and his bail closing he sent a few brand new $25 poppers flying toward England; he had to spent precious time
retying leaders while monster bass were being caught all around. He also managed to pull out the bluefish
along the jetty. A bass finally did take
his popper and turned out to be a good one.
There was a guy fishing to Mike’s right, he was one jean wearing less
then equipped guys, I remembered from the day before to be one of the anglers
casting at aggressive angles often over others lines fishing straight out,
including my own line. I could see both
Mike and this angler had fish on with the other guys much closer to the rocks
then Mike’s fish. When it came time to land the guy’s fish he either had too
much line out or had the drag too loose when the bass came up onto the rocks
with an incoming wave it went sailing well left of Mike’s position on the
rocks. This wasn’t so bad but what the
guy did next wasn’t such a good idea. Another
wave came over the rocks while Mike was fighting his bass and the angler to his
right rather then walk around to pick up his bass decided to hydroplane it back
to him across the front of Mike’s feet. The only problem with this plan was
this bass had a 7 inch long lure hanging out of its mouth with large treble
dangling. As he pulled it hard the
surging water was also pushing the fish backwards and as it came by the front
of Mike’s feet one of those trebles went straight through his waders and into
his shin. Mike was trying to motion to
me but I was concentrated on the fishing and I couldn’t tell what was
transpiring until it was over. He was
fighting a 32lb strip he had another flopping bass hooked into his shin and the
other angler had no pliers and didn’t know what to do. Finally Mike was able to signal another near
by angler, who had some Pliers and was able to unhook the bass, he was a little
unsure about removing the hook from the leg though but Mike had his hands full
and requested the guy just rip it out.
He reluctantly agreed and out it came and the 32lb bass was landed. As strange as it sounds luckily the hook hit
bone and although the barb went in there wasn’t much muscle to catch on the
shin area. The other guy seemed mostly
happy to get his lure back and get back to the fishing.
 |
| Mike's 32 |
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race the
Sun to Montauk
I decided
to make my return to Montauk in the fall of 2005 for more great surf
fishing. We had made a plan to go in
early October but a looming North East storm was due to hit before I would ever
get there and we decided to cancel those dates as the water would be dirty for
several days. The decision turned out to
be a wise one but after the water cleared the bass and blues were reported to
come back heavy and for about a week straight the news was solid action with
lots of blitzes. It was eating away at
me until the point where the calendar was getting to a Friday and decided I am
going there for the weekend crowded or not.
That Friday
night the plan was to try to get some sleep be awake around 2am and set sail for New York and be on the Montauk beach before
the sun came up. I thought a nice dose
of Nyquil would help get me to sleep early that and it kind of did by like
other times I’ve it had me a few hours later dry mouth and a foggy head, it was
1 am close enough, time to get up and if I get there early no big deal. Heading north on the turnpike to was clear
sailing, things were moving along nicely and I was about to cross over into the
state of New York just after 2 am.
I got to with in about 2 miles of the Verrazano Bridge and it first I
thought maybe I had read the flashing sign incorrectly, another sign a half
mile later said the same thing: VERRAZANO BRIDGE CLOSED 2 TO 6 AM FOR
CONSTRUCTION. “What, you have to be
kidding me” This was a time before GPS systems I had to think fast to reroute,
I had to make quick swerve to catch a New York City exit. I had to think fast I was shuffling through
some direction papers and amazingly I had the alternate route through Manhattan and down the Long Island
Expressway. These directions took me
right through the heart of New York which was still buzzing at 3am, I wasn’t sure if I was going
clubbing or fishing. I found my way to
the tunnel and it was surrounded by a thousand orange cones I had to back track
a block or two to even find the entrance. After clearing the tunnel I made my way onto
the Long Island Expressway, after about 5 miles of driving I saw a stretch of
the highway well light up and lots of flashing yellow lights, when I got closer
cars and bread trucks were exiting the expressway which was closed off for construction,
“Not again”. “Where is the detour going
to take me?” As many might already know
residential like road that sit between the homes and the highway run parallel
to highway for many many miles. The good
thing is I was now traveling parallel to high but at a reduced speed of about
35 miles per hour and the fleet of bread trucks began to mobilize for the early
morning deliveries. I traveled along at
this grueling pace for what seemed like an endless strip of closed highway,
twenty miles or better. When you make
your turn onto route 27 it really feels like you are on your way, and it’s that
first time you see the word “Montauk” but I believe it might have been followed
by the words “75 miles”.
I pushed into the Hamptons still making ok time despite my
setbacks, just about 40 minutes from the point I calculated id make it with
about 10-15 minutes to spare before first light. Driving through the heart of
town through route 27 I started to see some car light very close behind me. Headlights were beaming right though my rear
window and it seemed like this guy was just feet behind me, “Maybe he came up
fast and will fall off now”. But no this guy in a truck was just totally on my
bumper and it continued for about another two miles even. It became so ridiculous that I saw the
shoulder suddenly got wider and I pulled over to let the guy pass. Just after he went by I pulled back out into
the lane and I saw more light in my rear view mirror this time they were red
and blue. A cop approached at a quick
pace drove around my truck and in front of me and just when I thought they got
this knuckle head now, the cop pulled over the tailgater but then motioned for
me to pull over too. I couldn’t believe
it. When the cop approached my window I
had said he was parked along side of the road and I was driving over the speed
limit “You had to have seen that guy 2 feet from my tail and me pull over to
let him go” “You were right there as I
pulled over” he said nothing and left with my drivers license and
insurance. He returned about 10 minutes
later and asked if I was going to the point.
I said “at least tell me you saw what happened” he returned my license
and let me leave without a ticket, but the whole affair took up more valuable
time. I made my way onto the point and
started to climb up the park road to the lighthouse, I got a look of the
slightest bit of light was cracking the skies over the ocean off hither hills. At the light house parking lot I hopped out
fast and quickly threw waders onto my cramped legs. I headed for the south side at a fast pace, I
was having trouble picking up the trail in the dark, and I knew I had taken way
to may steps and I knew I messed up when I could almost see camp hero entrance,
I backtracked fifty yards or more and I found the trail toward truth
cover. A little more light was now in
the sky enough to navigate through the wooded trail when I got to the end and
saw the ocean it looked beautiful. The
forecast was North West winds 12 to 15 mph but the way the
very end of Long
Island
faces made this wind blocked a total non factor for the surf anglers.
The plan was to head down the beach some
and head to Browns and get up a nice rock.
When I got closer I could see about 5 anglers who appeared to be in
ready type positions and I saw one hoist up a bass which made me feel suddenly
confident about the trip. I saw a nice
rock to stand on about 30 yards north of this group of anglers, I waded stepped
up high, locked korkers into the rock and pulled myself up to my perched
spot. I reached into my bag for a 2 oz
pencil popper when something caught my eye, right there in front of me I saw
fins and striped backs slowly purposing out of the water. There seemed to be a lot of stripers in closer
just lightly swirling about the shallows.
I made short flip casts and the fish would hit my lure but much like
they way there were swimming they weren’t taking it with authority. I quickly made the switch to a silver and
pink shad, when I flipped into the water the bass were on it immediately, I
pulled back and the shad came flying out of the water and shot over my left
shoulder. I couldn’t believe it, I must
have a half dozen hits and still no bass yet.
“Relax, nice and easy the fish right here” next cast I felt a bump bump
and I pulled back and the rod bent I felt immediate relief, but something
didn’t look right with my line, I noticed I totally missed the first eye with
my line, I was still clowning, I couldn’t believe it. Shortly thereafter I was
hoisting up a 28” bass by my leader and I decided to just leave the line
outside the leader. The next cast
produced another quick hit and hook up but the line was just bothering me after
landing this bass I quickly cut off the leader and started to re thread my line
through all eyes this time. As I am
retying my right eye catch some birds traveling slowly north two casts out,
there is more breaking fish under them.
I get myself successfully retied and again and get my shad back into the
water and again it’s quickly sucked down by a striper.
 | |
| I took one lone pic as sun came up with a disposable camera |
As I am releasing my fish two guys arrive at
the beach a comfortable 20 yards to by left one looks at me as if to ask if
they can wade out to the rocks next to me, but I quickly signal them forward
and wave my hand flat over the water to say we got fish here. I was still taking bass fast the sun was
starting to really come up over the water and I could see more birds to my left
now and lots of breaking fish off the lighthouse slowly moving south. Fishermen were now to starting to fill into
turtle cove with a wave of fish slowly moving their way. I looked to my right and I could see more
birds in several different locations with different pods of fishing busting
water under the sunlight, “there’s some, wow more over there” I had about 8
bass and I looked up to see a mass wave of fish just slowly making there way
toward the turtle cove beach, then in an instant it went totally electric and
became a buzz saw of churning water. I
was truly having a moment watching half dozen different pods of blitzing fish
over the gorgeous sunrise on the early October Montauk morning. I fired off a
long cast, “lets see what’s out there” I started to work that shad and it got
whacked good, I set the hook and knew it had some decent size. The fish jumped high into the crisp air and
shook it head in the sunrise, looks like the blues the party. The blue was a big one, 13 to 14lbs when I
got it close to the rock after a nice fight I grabbed the leader, now that I
felt like luck was finally on my side perfectly predicted the blue would bite
me off when I lift it, I leaned most of my wait forward to compensate for any
sudden weight shift. I lifted the blue
up and just before I could secure the fish leader broke as predicted and I
saved myself from a trip backwards off the rock. Somewhere when I was retying my leader I
looked up and 20 something foot boot was about a half cast distance right in
front of me and the armada of boats were now off the cove and light house, my
moment once pure was now littered with aggressive boats. The constant flashing and splashing in turtle
finally made me trek up there and find a little piece of sand left to fish, the
sun was bearing into our eyes I could barely make out the thick picket line of
boats that had pinned the fish in, the sudden turn of good fortune prevailed
that morning as the boats and fisherman kept just a safe distance part and
shared in and out action of mostly blues for the next few sunny hours. I raced the sun to Montauk that night, the
race was long and had its challenges but I can close my eyes at anytime and
feel like I am up on that rock watching blitzing pods of fish in all directions
under an unforgettable sunrise, Yes I do believe I won.
FIRST BLITZ
You never
really understand the appeal of a surf blitz until you experience one and
nothing better then an all out bass blitz on peanut bunker. I am not talking
fish in and out or some bass just working under some peanuts I mean an all
out swirls and blasts going off and peanuts flying into the air to avoid being
some striped bass or a bluefish’s dinner. Daytime surf bass fighing was
my last frontier to conquer, I had fished for them from the boat, lots of
back bay and river and even my favorite ocean Jetty back then fishing
at night, which at one time in New Jersey was semi consistent
for picking off random fish in the middle of the night. Somewhere back there with the resurgance of
both stripers and bunker.
So flashing
back to day fishing i was out in early November on a day where the north west
wind started to build in the afternoon, i was playing with tog on the manasquan
jetty and picking away at a few, I had an 8.5" rod in my truck as well as
some korkers. I had fished for bass or blues in the morning north of
there but nothing was doing. All areas
in Monmoth County about 10 to 12 miles north of Manasquan were quiet all morning
when I stopped periodically along the way working south looking for bait birds
or fish along the way. With no action to
speak of I decided to switch tactics mid day to kill time. Tog were also making a comeback of their own
and decent catches of mostly short tog.
A quick trip to the tackle shop to pick up some green crabs and I was
back on the tip of the jetty for an afternoon of toggin Tog fishing provided lots of bites and helped
salvage a day that looked it was going to be a bust for bass or bluefish. Toggin took me into the late afternoon and
provided a few fish and even a keeper for the table.
Something
flickered off the tip of the jetty that was the start of it all. I saw just a few bait fish flash out of the
water. Another fisherman saw it too; he
was working a yellow jointed bomber off the tip of the jetty. About 10 casts later that fisherman hooked up
on the bomber and brought in a schoolie striper. First some bait now at least one confirmed
bass in the area was enough to get my excitement level up a little bit. As I was a full length out on the rather
long jetty and another 75 yards of pavement to my truck, where my 9 foot rod
lure bag and corkers were, I waited before running off in haste. The fisherman made more casts without a hook
up but then way inside the jetty I saw a fly rodder set the hook on a fish and
I saw a tiny pop of bait once again, now it was double time to clear off the
jetty to get back and grab the surf gear.
Making long strides on the big rocks yet I was careful not to go too
fast. The Manasquan jetty is made up of
enormous rock unlike any other jetty in New Jersey and sits up two or three times as
high. The big rocks made it safe to walk
on yet there is always large deep gaps between the rocks to consider when
walking.
When I got
back to the truck I quickly grabbed my 9 foot surf rod, a bag of lures
consisting mostly of a few bombers and plastic lures. Growing up fishing in Pennsylvania I was accustomed to plastic lures
for large and smallmouth bass and one of my all time favorites was the sassy
shad. This was several years before the time popular brands put out weighted
shads sold in 6 packs. I had used these
on ½ or ¾ oz jig heads and they worked pretty well in the back bays. While getting my equipment ready I made one
mistake which would prove to be costly later, I elected to leave my new korkers
in the truck. The rocks so high off the
water were perfectly dry with the North West wind and flat water conditions,
fishing off them seemed perfectly safe to me at the time.
Back onto
the jetty walking up I could see the fly rodder was again hooked up with a bass,
another great sign. I made it to the
pocket of the jetty on my double time pace and threw out a white sassy shad on
a ¾ oz jig head, it got hit on the first cast and I brought in a small bass of
about 21”. No mater what the size or
where you are there is just something so satisfying about getting that first
fish of the day, even if it’s the last fish it feels like the was a success to
a large extent. Although I had taken
this fish at the pocket I elected to move further out on the jetty and reach
some deeper water. I set up about
slightly past half way mark. Seemingly
out of no where birds broke out flying low over the water and one or two went
to the water and picked up a solo peanut bunker in their talons. Seconds later the water started to erupt
right in front of me with peanuts swimming clear out of the water to avoid
being eaten by a school of striped bass that had now moved in pushing the peanut
bunker at the perfect angle toward the beach and trapping them inside the long
jetty. Casting my white plastic shads I
started to get consistent hits and hook ups, this was definitely a New Jersey surf bass blitz. Most of the bass I was catching were somewhat
small in size mostly 22 to 26 inches.
Landing stripers from an extra high jetty is somewhat of an art form,
the trick is to get them close, control the fish and wait for a wave on the
upswing lift and flex your rod before the wave crashed on the rocks. If you did this just right you can lift the
bass up to the first layer of rocks then by using a heavy long leader you can
control the fish and lift them rock to rock to your feet. I was doing this
hooking up every few casts then working the fish up the rocks to my feet and
releasing them. When this bite started
it was about 3 or 4 other fisherman targeting bass. There is something about a blitz that brings
guys seemingly out of the wood work. I
was fishing and I looked to my left and there were now at least a dozen fishermen
to my left taking up residence along the jetty to the sand line. Most guys also seemed to be catching fish as
well. I had pulled up a good amount of
bass onto the rock I was standing on I was making a bad error by doing this and
I hadn’t realized it at the time, every time I had done this and slid a fish
onto the rock I was standing I was basically “fishing up” my rock and making it
slicker and slicker. I was on my rock
about to make a cast then I suddenly felt an uneasy feeling around my feet and
the next thing I know is I was out of breath looking at the sky and I could
hear my reel sliding down the rocks. I reached over from the position on my
back and grabbed the rod and my elbow was in a great deal of pain. The blitz was on and I stood up shook off the
effect of my slip and fall with the presence of blitzing fish I never felt pain
until I woke up the next morning. The
pain and stiffness in my elbow lasted for a good 3 months before returning to a
100 % normal.
I was working
feverishly to land as many fish as possible before dark which was quickly
approaching. I probably had about 15
bass so bar schoolies and fish just over the former slot sized of 24” With just minutes left before dark which
would mostly certainly kill the rapid fire bite. I had a bite that definitely
felt like a bigger fish, it wasn’t on long the fish just gave a steady pull but
went from left to right just under the surface, when I brought the shad back it
had a slide down the middle of it, sure sign that I had just lost a bluefish. The angler next to me hooked up and it also
looked like a bigger fish he fought it for a few minutes then brought an 8lb
bluefish to the rocks as the sun started to set. This fisherman happened to
have a gaff about 12 feet long; he skillfully hooked his bluefish under the
chin and lifted the fish up the rocks. Darkness was quickly falling onto the beach;
it was just about half dark when I had a solid hit I pulled the rod back hard
and when the hook sunk into the fishes lip it initially barely moved from its
position. Several seconds later the fish felt the hook
and started making wild deep runs along the bottom. Clearly I had not hooked another schoolie
bass, but I was reasonably sure it was one of the gator bluefish that seemed to
have just moved in. The fish just kept
running and running along the bottom every time I took back ten yards of line
the fish would take them right back. I
was starting to think about a landing plan knowing this fish had some size I knew
it wasn’t going to be the kind of fish I lift and hoist up the rocks. I was looking to my left and I saw nothing
but fisherman lined up and down the rocks to the beach, walking this fish to
the beach would be nearly impossible with so many fishing inside me. The singing of my drag caught the attention
of the fisherman next to me with the long gaff.
“Lets hope that’s a big old bass and not a blue” Did I finally have my
way out of landing this fish? Would this
fellow take mercy on my situation and help?
As I wondered about this the angler started to ready his gaff and take
up a position on the rocks and flipped on his headlamp. My concerns were now answered the fellow
angler was in fact going to help get me out of this jam. I brought the fish close to the rocks but it
was still taking line and with the cover of darkness I still had no idea what
was on the other end of my line. I
finally steered the fish to the man with the gaff and the fish gave up its side
under his light and I still couldn’t see it spot on the rocks. “Oh it’s bass. A big one too, it might even be 25lb” Just
then the man sunk the gaff into the strip’s side and he braced himself and
lifted the bass up the rocks. It was
truly a beautiful 40” fish and a phenomenal way to end the blitz. The bass later weighed in at 21lbs even.
I walked
off the jetty that night carrying the bass at my side; just about every angler along
the rocks stopped to look at the fish and congratulate me on the nice catch. Thinking back the odds of a big bass mixed in
with a blitz smaller fish was truly a streak of luck. I use many other tactics of catching stripers
and most are more consistent then day time fall blitz fishing but I can
honestly say none are more exciting and rewarding when the magic happens.
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Eighteen Hours
Late September of 2009 I had
lost a long time job with the slumping economy.
My days consisted of reading job websites, sending off resumes and
writing cover letters, fishing helped kept me sane during the trying time. The fall had started with an early sand eel
run, Things began with epic results with surf fluke from Sept into October but
still not many bass even with the abundance of bait. Fluke were taking teasers
and small offerings in the trough and jumped clear out of the water chasing
sand eels at time, something good was bound to happen as things set up for
Striped Bass season. Very much like a
scheduled train, the bass began to arrive in numbers in the third week of
October as the water cooled to the optimum temperatures. Not working gave me a unique opportunity to
be available for favorable conditions and much more time then usual.
Each and every fall I look for a certain pattern
as a lure fisherman with my first and foremost favorite condition being a North West wind. The
harder the NW winds the better. The
strong NW wind usually comes with is a by product of a small cool front. Now if I ever see a cool front coming off a
warmer one with high pressure and South winds then it really looks like a high
percentage play. The cool front should lower the air pressure often signaling
the fish to go on the feed. In addition
to all that wind is at your back increasing the casting distance and the amount
of water your lure covers and the ocean flattens out making it easier to work
lighter lures and get the maximum presentation action of a lure. Now it also seems that the first day of the
fall that has a gale NW wind with a slight
cool down pattern seems to be one of the best days of the season, and I mostly
knew this from missing that first great day more so then often each year. However this season with all the time in the
world I was confident id catch a great day.
Around November 3rd, a Wednesday I believe I could see the
exact pattern I was looking for developing on weather forecasts over the next 2
days, a gale NW coming off a few days of South wind in a row. I even went as far as to alert others that I
lied what I saw on a fishing website with mixed reactions. Some other angers seemed to be waiting for
North East winds. Here is that post:
Friday
If the weather forecast holds and thats always a big IF, this looks the
kinda day I look for surf fishing
High: 45 °F RealFeel®: 33 °F
Partly sunny, NW winds gusting past 40 mph and chilly
cold front with hard NW winds coming off S winds, nothing is etched in stone but that could be sweet
High: 45 °F RealFeel®: 33 °F
Partly sunny, NW winds gusting past 40 mph and chilly
cold front with hard NW winds coming off S winds, nothing is etched in stone but that could be sweet
Although it seems rare, the weather did
actually seem to be holding. On Thursday
the 5th the wind was supposed to start building up at around 8 or 9pm.
I had a Job interview back in Pennsylvania on Thursday afternoon, the plan was
to get an early jump and things and give it a try before dark if I could make
it in time. After the interview I
rushed to the beach, this time of year the sun was setting early and it was
getting dark around 5 pm.
I arrived just after 4 PM parked along the curb near the
beach. Inside my truck I was quickly changing out of tie and suit into my fishing
clothes, its surf fishing season and all summer season rules are basically off
the way I see it. Outside the truck I pulled on my cold gear socks outside the
truck and slipped on the waders and waterproof jacket, grabbed the bag and rod
and I was ready to go. The tide was dead
low about 3:15 and when I got out of the truck I noticed the wind was dead
calm, not even a breeze, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I made my way up the steps to the beach and
it looked like a very low tide with some fisherman out on the bar just on the
other side of now ankle or shin deep water.
I started to head up the beach to get to an open area of the bar and I
could already see 1 or 2 fish caught as I was still walking so it looked like
maybe things could be looking promising.
Other fishermen were also arriving around this time, after work
possibly.
I
started out working an AVA 17 with a green tail and a white and green deceiver
tied above it, as sand eels were the bait present out front now. I worked my offerings without a touch while a
few fish were picked on either side of me.
A few fish turned into a few more and still not a hit for me. An older gentleman to my left took a double
header of bass, and I finally made an adjustment and increased the speed of
retrieve, about the third cast at the increased speed I finally got hit hard
and set the hook , “finally”, I thought to myself as the rod bulged
forward, a few minutes later I was
unhooking a 26” Striper and although not the biggest fish I was feeling that relief of holding the
first fish of the day and knowing the trip was worth it. Quickly I was back into the water and with
the speed pattern now down I was hit once again and, after a nice fight I had a
fat looking bass close to 30” bass in my hand.
After I lipped the fish I could see it had taken the teaser pretty far
down and I just couldn’t seem to unhook it on the bar. I didn’t want waste too much time as bass
were steadily being landed up and down the beach now but I had no choice to
walk it back to the sand to try to lay it flat.
The trough was a short distance here but I decided to swim the fish back
through to keep it in the water as much as possible as I planned to release
it. As I got back to the beach the
strangest thing happened. I had turned
the rod at a sideways position to slide the bass onto the sand and as I did a slight final shake suddenly
caused my rod from bent sideways to bent to an underneath position which
somehow caused my $200 rod to rapidly snap into 3 pieces. It was getting close to dark, I was about 250
yards away from the truck where I did have a back up rod but fish were being
caught up and down the beach, my feeling of a successful trip now felt far
removed.
I started to make the walk back down the beach cursing at my broken rod along the way. I got back to the truck for the backup rod but by the time I had cut the leader and switched the reel and retied it was nearly dark out. The tide had switched for about an hour or more and the water was starting to fill in a very nice very large hole along that stretch. As it was getting dark and the water filling in there was no need to rush back to the water but I had figured since the bite was so solid before dark things could get very good after dark.
I started to make the walk back down the beach cursing at my broken rod along the way. I got back to the truck for the backup rod but by the time I had cut the leader and switched the reel and retied it was nearly dark out. The tide had switched for about an hour or more and the water was starting to fill in a very nice very large hole along that stretch. As it was getting dark and the water filling in there was no need to rush back to the water but I had figured since the bite was so solid before dark things could get very good after dark.
With the
new rod fully laced up now I headed back toward the hole as most fisherman were
leaving but more then a couple definitely did stay for the night bite. I made my way up to the hole which was fairly
large in size 2 fisherman were working the upper corner so I started at the
lower end about 25 yards below. I could
see other figures and lights still out on the sand bar to either side of the
hole. I wasn’t sure if there was enough
water yet inside the hole, but no need to wade out to the bars in the dark if I
could catch from land I thought. I angled my cast toward the cut in the bar and
it was quickly clear that there was enough water as a bass quickly doubled my
rod forward; my feeling of trip satisfaction quickly came rushing back. When the
exact same result occurred for the next cast I knew I was onto something with
my 2nd bass from the sand in this large super hole. As I fished I slowly shifted toward the
middle of the hole, about every 10 mins or less me and the other 2 fisherman to
my left would all hook up with bass on our bombers, needle fish or teaser at
nearly the same time. Small schools of
bass were clearly entering the hole through the cut in waves. Most of the bass I was catching were 26-29”s
but fat from gorging on sand eels. As
the water came in more fisherman began to vacate the bars.
Before long I counted 6 total fisherman total all along the hole now, all of
us about 8 yards apart everywhere on catching bass and working together to
clear out of the water or stay out until a hooked bass along side of you was
hooked. As far as I remember there
wasn’t one tangle and everyone was catching bass for about 2 hours straight
before it started to slow down. I
probably had close to 20 stripers including the ones before dark and seemed
like the hole wasn’t going to stop producing fish, I estimated about an amazing
80-85 bass total were taken from the hole by the time it was done. Once I got off the beach onto higher ground I
could tell the wind had definitely picked up to about 10 mph NW. I headed back to Manasquan for a late dinner
and was very excited about what the morning would bring as the North West gale was building.
Eighteen Hours -- Midnight in
Manasquan
Later that
night I made my way around the internet checked all the fishing websites and
message boards and email as the fisherman usually do and as the night wore on I
just wasn’t very tired and eventually the beach started calling out to me. So far the beaches of Manasquan just didn’t
seem to be holding any bass or bait around the smaller jetties in town. The tide started to go back out around 10 pm and I was heading back out around 11:30 pm.
As I left the house the wind had kicked up again and had a nice stiff
wind probably around 20 mph now, just what I wanted. I worked my way in front of the boardwalk
along a few finger jetties on either side and the troughs on either side
without a touch. I was almost ready to give up after about a half hour but I
decided to walk south toward the big jetty where I knew of a sand bar spot near
by. As I walked down the beach with the glass smooth water I could see things
very well. Before I got to where I was
headed I noticed a very nice new hole. A
large area of the beach was nothing but sand bars with a one deep hole dead in
the middle of the beach with a large looking opening. I knew that’s where I needed to be as I
looked up and down the town beach it was mostly sand bars with one hole only
along a long stretch. As I was walking up in the dark I hadn’t originally
noticed it but another fisherman was there working the hole. I said hello and asked if he minded if I
share some of the real estate. This
fisherman not only didn’t mind but he alerted me that he was into fish up to
32”s pretty good. I set up a good 15
yards to his right; I elected to start off with a 1 and ¾ oz needle fish and a
red gil teaser. As soon as I threw the
needle out into the hole a bass was on it and FAST, I brought the nice fat 30”
incher to the beach and unhooked it quickly.
I threw the needle back out into the darkness and again it was quickly
jumped on once again, “oh yeah they are definitely here”. As me and the other
angler near by threw out into the hole most of our casts were hit and either
hooked or missed or fish off. I quickly
noticed this was a slightly better class of fish too that were schooled up in
the hole, nearly all of the bass I was catching here were fat 28 to 31” and a
few 32” inchers mixed in.
After landing a handful of bass and missing
as many and or losing a few I looked down at my needle because something caught
my eye in the darkness and I noticed the finish looked different. I flipped on my head light to see that the
bass had stripped most of the paint off the lure body.
The other fisherman left in the middle of the
hot bite and I suddenly had the midnight bite all to myself. I switched over to a black bomber and they
were on that just as much. I probably
had taken somewhere around 17 to 18 bass to 13 lbs in a little over an hour
when the hits suddenly stopped just past mid tide. I walked about another 100 yards south
working around the bar and over another hole at the big jetty without a
hit. I was thinking to myself that was
about it for this bite, then it started to hit me that maybe, just maybe the
bass were retreating with the receding tide water at out past the cut. I went back up to the hole and switched to an
AVA 17 diamond jig with the red gil teaser still above with the intent to get a
long cast out past that cut, as soon as
I cranked the jig over a bass was on the teaser. After releasing that bass and getting another
soon after long cast hit it was clear the bass were just moving out with the
tide. I added another half dozen fish at
the end of the long casts before the fish finally moved out of range for good
for the evening. Walking off the beach I
could feel a hard steady NW wind blowing once I got to higher ground, the two
hour span it was one of the best bites I could remember with that solid size
range, with only a few fish falling barely below the keeper size. I couldn’t help but to think how tomorrow
bite is was going to rock, but tomorrow was now today as it was getting past 2am.
Eighteen Hours, Friday Morning
I tried to
get right to sleep at about 2:30 am but I had landed close to 50 bass the hard
plug strikes and the feel of the bent rod were replaying in mind on a loop, I
just totally rocked them and I knew they would be up again at daylight, how could I sleep like this?
When the
alarm went off at 5:15 am it felt like I had been laying down only for about 5
or 10 minutes. I sprang up splashed cool
water on my face and had 2 Advil and fruit juice for breakfast, a few light stretching
movements and was ready to go at it once again.
When I opened the door to leave I was greeted with noticeably cooler
crisp air from the front and the winds howled through the houses, if I wasn’t
fully awake yet this did it.
I headed south down route 35 on Friday morning back to
where I had started the evening before when I parked I took a quick look at the
bay and it was nothing but white caps everywhere with the hard North West wind
but I knew the ocean would be the exact opposite and be glass smooth. After I slipped on the waders and gear and
headed up the street to the beach I was fully awake now and feeling good about
what was over the dunes. Just before
first light there was a lot of fisherman around steps the area closest to
parking, again I walked up the beach and the amount of fisherman thinned to a
few every 10 to 20 yards taking up position wading on the bar. The water was only shin deep inside the
trough with the low water and the blow out tide. I was surprised to see a few clam anglers in
short boots throwing their baits out into about 2 feet of water along side
where most lure guys were fishing. I waded
out to the bar just along the big hole where I had the great success on the
first part of the evening before.
The moment a bit of light cracked the
November sky I saw one tiny sand eel swirl under the red skyline and then just
like that up and down the beach bass were swirling in unison in relative
moderation. The rods started to bend up
and down for the anglers on the sand bar and soon mine did too. I brought my
bass close to the bar looked about 27”, I went to grab the leader but missed and
grabbed the line just above the leader and it instantly snapped, probably due
to my laziness of not retying from
midnight bite. I quickly retied another
leader while watching other anglers reeling in fish, all the while my thoughts
were just hopefully this bite will sustain for a bit. After finally getting my new leader I went
into the bag for another lure. The bass
seemed to be spread out from just over the bar at our feet to others swirling a
full cast out. While looking for a lure
I started to see waves of sand eels maybe by the hundred coming clear out of
the water right in front of me. I
grabbed an AVA 007 with a chartreuse tail as it seemed clear I wouldn’t have to
cast far and the dead calm water were perfect for presentation. I also went
into my jacket pocket and took out a left glove only and slipped it onto my
hand. It appeared the bite was back on
and my fingers and thumb were seriously already worn down from lipping
bass. My index finger and thumb looked
and felt like I had taken 100 grit sand papers and rubbed them both to they
were raw. The inside of my thumb was
also cracked and bloody too, slipping on the glove would limit further damage,
I was in full blitz mode now. As I got
back into the water again I was quickly into bass. I brought in three bass in quick time but I
went to unhook the 3rd and the hook didn’t want to come undone. I went for my pliers and still didn’t wanna
come out and the hook was starting to bend from the pressure I was putting on
it. Back to hard sand on the beach to
lay this fish down to better angle on the hook.
I was still trying to unhook the bass on the beach and I could now see a
lot of sand eels getting chased out of the water now into the big hole just
slightly to my left, there was a considerable amount of bass popping and
swirling in the still relatively shallow water inside the hole with no one on
them. The only fisherman were on either
side of the hole out on the bars still.
I gave the hook one final hard tug as it came free it was nearly
perfectly straightened out. I unhooked
the lure and was looking for another 17 size, but with all the bass popping and
swirling in front of me I had forgot I moved remaining two 17s to my inside
wader pocket. I grabbed a brand new AVA
27 with a green tail, I figured I could just lob it into the hole and it would
be just fine. It was a brand I hadn’t
used before but I had two new ones in my surf bag. Now fishing from the sand I flipped the lure
into boiling bass and sand eels flying everywhere, this was one of the dream
bites we wait a long time for. My lure
was instantly hit hard and I fought a bass for a few seconds before it got
off. The next cast was nearly a repeat
with a quick solid hit and the bass got off, the 3rd hook up ended
the same way as I shook my head. I
repeated this process about three more times before it finally dawns on me
something wasn’t right. I reeled in and
looked at my lure and finally found out what was wrong, this brand comes with a
plastic point and barb protector over the hook, I was officially out of blitz
mode! So seemingly I wasn’t even hooking these fish
as much as just the pressure from the shape of the hook was keeping my rod bent
for a seconds before they would get off, now feeling kind of stupid from yet
another set back I quickly cut the plastic protector and got back into the
action. I landed about a half dozen
more bass in rapid fashion once I
changed lures.
However like many early morning sand eel bites the fish suddenly
stopped swirling and hitting up and down the beach all at once. It was still only just before 7 am and many anglers were walking off
the beach or heading to work but it was still early and the tide was coming in
and I didn’t want to quit just yet.
After about
15 to 20 minutes I hadn’t seen much of anything but I finally did see a few
birds to my left another 75 yards up the beach and I wasn’t even sure if they
close enough. I started to make the walk
up the beach making some unsuccessful casts and still wasn’t sure if any fish
were still around. I finally did see
some surface action, but it was a slash and a spray of Sand eels, a classic
sign of a bluefish chasing bait. I was
now set up along one other fisherman in wrap around polarized sun glasses. The slash was closest to me and the other
angler pointed it out if I didn’t see it myself. I nodded and yelled up his way “I think its
blues” A few more slashes seemed to be
in range just on the far side of our casts now.
I switched lures from metal to plugs and couldn’t buy a hit. The guy to guy who I would soon know as Ronnie
finally did hook up and bring in a 6lb bluefish. A few more bluefish slashed close in but
amazingly neither of us hooked up. Now
that appeared the bite slow again I and the other fisherman exchange a few
words while standing on the sand chatting while taking a break from
casting. “That was odd” I said though
the blues would have been all over my plug.
We stood on beach talking for about another 10 minutes when birds start
to hover over the original big hole I started fishing at 75 yards south down to
our right. We both started to walk
toward the birds and we could see sand eels again being pushed at the lower end
of the hole, when it turned to lots of sand eels we quicken our pace. As we got to the hole Ronnie headed to the
lower end where most of the surface action was occurring, another angler from
further south was also headed toward the lower end of the hole. The upper side of this hole tucked away and
got thin inside a sand bar that formed a point, leaving a long stretched v
shape to the upper side of the hole.
When I got down to this part of the hole I saw 2 or 3 birds hovering
only about 5 feet off the water in this part of the hole and I saw a sand eel
or two flip on the surface. As I got down to this part of the hole I decided to
make a few casts rather then continue to the lower end. I cast into the small pocked and it was clear
the fish down here were willing as I got a quick hit, fighting the fish I was
sure was going to be a blue but as it got close it was another striped bass.
My
hand went back into jacket and I again slipped on the left “blitz” glove. The corner pocket of the hole seemed to be
loaded with bass most likely using the contours of the bars and corner to trap
sand eels. I was again taking bass after bass in
rapid fashion, I yelled down the beach to Ronnie “all bass” and pointed into
the corner. They seemed to be catching a
few fish on the lower side but they didn’t appear to be nearly as stacked
up. Amazingly a second wave of fish was
pushing the beaches, and again was spilling into the hole in thick numbers. We
again started to steadily catch bass in good numbers with some nice keepers
mixed in. I finally did a blue but it
was taken on the teaser with a 26” bass on the AVA jig below it.
Before the day was out I did also manage to
have two other catches of bass where the leader came back without the
teaser. Bass to 32” would keep coming in
waves for over 2 more hours, in lesser quantity waves of blues to 12 pounds
would push through the hole also. At
times my arms were literally tired and fatigue when I was fighting large
blues.
I had to strip off my waterproof
jacket in mid blue fight because I went a good 20 minutes sweating inside it
from fighting so many fish. I took it
off as fast as I could and walked back and up and the sand and threw it as high
up the beach as I could. Just minutes
later I was fishing only to look back and see the water washing back to and
touching my jacket, I rushed back before it got swept in and threw it even
higher back, thinking how it is funny
how the presence of blitzing fish affects logical thinking. I snapped off about 3 other times during the
day and a few I could see were bass, again in the hast of blitzing fish I
failed to check my line and it cost me a few lures. While so many things went
right the night before so many were now going wrong mostly out of laziness from
excitement yet I was still into many fish.
By the end
of the action I was down to plastic lures but the bass and blues didn’t
mind. It was nearly 11 o’clock and I had probably taken 25-30 more
bass and close to 10 blues on this second wave of fish after the initial
acftion, my new friend took an equal amount of fish next to me. As we walked off the beach about another 100
yards to the cross street most anglers further down the beach were reporting
fish just about every cast but all blues. Again luck shinned on me and
seemingly bass favored the great hole that I had done so well in just the night
before. It had been 18 hours since I
first pulled up to the same spot with high hopes for this North West blow, I
probably had over 80 bass and some blue fish too.
 |
| A solid 12 lber |
After I left the beach there
were two things on my mind food and new lures.
For some reason I always seemed to be stocking up on lures after the
bite, rather then be prepared before the bite.
At any rate I headed to Point Pleasant and stocked up on metal and replaced what was lost
and added a few more for good measure.
General tackle shop chatter indicated bites up and down the beach with a
high amount of blues; it was the first day of the fall blues rushed the beaches
in any solid numbers. After lunch and
the 2 and a half hours of sleep beach walking and reeling in so many fish was
taking began taking a heavy toll. My
hands were dry and cracked my back and hands both ached with about every step. I checked in on the internet briefly
dropped a few emails and lay down on the couch at 2 in the afternoon with the
intent of closing my eyes for a minute and promptly passed out. I woke up after multiple rings of a cell
phone around 6 pm and I think I knew exactly why, my head felt foggy, my first
thoughts were no fishing tonight time to relax. I would
in fact be lying if I didn’t tell you I arrived back on a sand bar at 7:30pm; just to go take a look is what I
told myself. The word was out; I had to
walk to end of the congo line of anglers which nearly went
to super hole. I took my position and I was reeling in nice
15lb bass on red gil teaser minutes later and I just laughed as its not always
this easy.
 |
| Friday Evening's first fish |
Most of the anglers in the long line out there
were reporting a very strong bite from 5 to 7 pm and it slowed to a pick, I took a three
fish and left in less then an hour and I went back to bed for a full night
sleep with interruption this time. The
thing about going to sleep before 9 is you tend to wake up around 4 am and yes once again the stars would align
for me once again and a few 16-18 lb bass would be waiting for me just before
sunrise that next morning, what a Fall.
 | |
| Thanks for reading! |
