FishTales

And the 2009 title goes to Doug Levian for his stellar weekend success of back to back keeper stripers from the surf

NOVEMEBER 6-9, 2009

Meet Mr. November, 2009: Doug Levian.  Dougie won that distinction with back-to-back keeper bass caught on the weekend prior to Veteran’s Day. Big brother Frank earned cred for putting Dougie into the fish. But make no mistake: Dougie came into his own for fishing his signature diamond jig lures as good as can be fished during the never-ending sand eel barrage that besieged the East End beaches nearly the entire surfcasting season.

Mr. November: Doug Levian (center) was deadly with his signature diamond jig lure, nailing back to back keeper bass (photo by Jack Yee)

I have stated often that Dougie is near magical when fishing around the time of the Marine Corps Annivesary (for those who are counting, the Corps celebrated its 234th “birthday” on November 10). In fact, this veteran Leatherneck is one sharp angler virtually anytime of the surfcasting season–whether chasing blues in his bathing suit along the sandy ocean beaches in September, or sheathed in waders while rock hopping at Montauk Point in a post-Halloween nor’easter. I’ve fished with Dougie in all conditions and I bear witness to his deadly prowess with his lure of choice: a shiny but otherwise unadorned diamond jig. He may get snagged now and then on the underwater obstacles of Mecca, but his consistent success hooking up to big blues and quality stripers more than makes up for the casualty of a lost lure or two or three. Considering the onslaught of sand eel bait that has been the meal du jour of our quarry nearly the entire surfcasting season, it was little wonder that Dougie the diamond jig king scored more keepers in one weekend than anyone else I have fished with (including me) has had all season.

Dougie’s weekend to remember began with ridiculously warm and mild weather as he and Frank hit the East End beaches while I remained “up Island” for a Dinner Club feast on Saturday, a real estate open house on Sunday,  and a lightening round of antique shopping in New Hope, PA. Don’t ask…..

Dueling Stripers: One was a gift and the other was Dougie's second keeper of the weekend

Along with Frank’s daughter Gina, who reported that she caught the surfcasting “bug”, the boys once again found blitzing bluefish on the sandy beaches from Hither Hills to Montauk town beach. This was a fairly consistent story since the last storm moved through on Halloween weekend. Late Saturday afternoon, Dougie pulled up keeper number one in front of the White Sands Motel beach entrance with nary a sign of life to guide him. No bait or fish showing, no birds working. Just sharp shooting on a tip gleaned at Harvey Bennett’s Tackle Shop from a fellow angler who Frank identified only as “Mr. Peepers”.

The bluefish onslaught continued on Sunday morning. And following a mid-day beach picnic of striped bass in black bean sauce prepared by one of the local Chinese take-out kitchens, the fishing got better and the blues got bigger. This time the best action was west of the Surfside Inn overlook to the Glass House near Gurney’s Inn. At day’s end, however, Dougie pulled the aquatic equivalant of a rabbit out of a hat by landing a teen-sized schoolie bass that he jigged up on the Montauk town beach near Paulie’s Tackle Shop.

Big brother Frank landed this 30-inch gangster bluefish on the beach in front of the Glass House near Gurney's Inn

On Monday morning, Frank and Gina picked up the action, sans Dougie. Rumors were circulating of fish everywhere along the ocean beach, including in front of our own beloved Treasure Island Drive.  In the afternoon, the father-daughter duo returned to the scene of earlier crimes in Montauk where Frank nailed the gawd-awfullest gangster bluefish of the season: a snarly 30-incher that must have weighed 12 pounds. The head on this fish was equal to that of a small dog. Excellent fish, Frank. But not good enough to unseat the new Mr. November. Congrats to Dougie!

Natalie and I went to see the Water Lillies Exhibition at MOMA recently.

As you can see, it was extraordinary.

This little piece of fishy humor provided by my friends Carole and Angus in Paris.

Big brother Frank came in from Los Angel-eeze.  Punk rock surfcasting attorney Justin Hoy arrived from Chelsea, NY. So who is the real Mr. November?

NOVEMBER 4-5, 2009

In the past,  big brother Frank’s last trip of the surfcasting season from the Left Coast to Mecca has typically been a harbinger of great fishing. By this late in the season, the big bait is running—herring or bunker or both—and the big fish are on the feedbag, fattening up for their winter migration. But I don’t have to repeat how odd this season has been thus far. So I was filled with equal amounts of hope and anxiety when I picked up Frank on November 3 at JFK. Could he once again prove to be Mr. November?

Big Brother Frank in his "Aquaman" suit, casting at the Indian Head in Montauk

The good news is that we didn’t exactly get skunked on Wednesday morning. Fishing along side a small handful of Montauk sharpies near the Indian Head bluff in Montauk, I scored a tiny 16 inch striper around 830am just before the flood tide. There was a slow pick of small fish there and on the Montauk village beaches, but that was our only taste of the day. After lunch, with the turn of the tide, we did the walk from Ditch Plains east to the Cottages and Amsterdam beach, chasing a flock of birds working over bait that never came within reach. At dark, our cooler unsullied, we retired to a dinner of linguine with red sauce, eggplant parmigiana and watched the Yankees seal the deal for World Series victory number 27.

Fuck the Yankees–or am I repeating myself here?

Bluefish Blitz The Beach

Thursday, with punk rock attorney Justin Hoy on hand, we first checked west, but found no hint of action in East Hampton.  Back east, however, from the Surfside Inn overlook, we spied working birds in close to shore.

Gulls squawked, baitfish crashed the shoreline and cocktail bluefish blitzed the beach all afternoon from the Surfside Inn overlook to Ditch Plains

All through the last of the incoming tide, we hopscotched the beach on the trail of a tight flocks of birds working low and intensely over bait in the wash. Frank broke the ice by landing the what may be the smallest bluefish to have ever swum the Atlantic. As the tide peaked, the fish came within reach at the IGA and we followed them east, all the way to the Indian Head. All small bluefish—the good eating kind—and plenty of fun-filled blitz action.

Punk rock attorney Justin Hoy scored his first ever striper--a chunky 24-incher--on the beach at Ditch Plains

We ran out of beach at the far eastern end of Montauk village, so we hopped off and then back on at Ditch Plains, where we awaited the school we left behind. And come they did. This time, however, Justin raised the ante: his first fish of the day was a chunky 24-inch bass nailed on a diamond jig. More blues for me and Frank. And then, while Frank took a break to humor his West Coast real estate customers,  Justin and I did the walk east to the Cottages, hoping the bass would come into the rocky shore.  They never did.

Stupid Good Fishing; Bay Anchovies In the Wash

Back to the truck and back to the Indian Head Bluff. And there was where the fishing got stupid good. With the descending tide, we were able to drive to Dead Man’s cove and then walk with a school of fish tracking back towards Montauk village, casting and catching as we went. We could see bait being run right onto shore by maurading cocktail blues slashing and thrashing just a high kick from the shoreline.

This baby bass took a sand eel teaser but the blitzing bluefish were feeding on bay anchovies that moved onto the beach for the first time this season

Squawking gulls, knitted together in a thick black cloud, beat their wings on the water in a frenzy. I was catching fish two at a time on my green teaser and anything else I had attached; diamond jig with tube, shortly Hopkins with a bucktail or lead head bucktail. Try as we did to get under these blues, we couldn’t raise a bass. At 1pm, we left the fish biting. We took home 9 fish to clean and distribute having thrown back at least twice as many.

Justin promised to be back for Veteran’s Day and the king of all diamond jigs, Doug Levian was to be Frank’s fishing partner for the weekend. Gannets are diving, the water is cooling and the clock is ticking down on the season. It is high time some big bass make their appearance.

Also, time for the REAL Mr. November to stand up. First keeper gets the title.

Who will it be?

Halloween Weekend is Boo-Hoo-Hoo

OCTOBER 30 to NOVEMBER 1, 2009

I was hoping that Daniel’s arrival on Halloween would “scare” up some fish. It had been one of the most abysmal surfcasting seasons in recent years and I was so eager for a change in luck, that I got things going early on Friday with Big Bob Wilsusen. But neither Bob nor Daniel proved to be the antidote to the skunk that was upon me. Bottom line was that we fished hard, but had nothing to show for our efforts.

The only game in town for weeks has been small bass bottom feeding on sand eels on the sandbar in Montauk village

The early ayem session on Friday with Big Bob Wilsusen looked promising at first. A gray, overcast morning was softened by warm wet winds from the south. A handful of casters were landing small fish in a slow pick at the Ditch Plains cove near the East Deck motel. We joined the chorus line but got nothing for our 45 minute effort except confirmation that the fish were still bottom feeding on sand eels.

Roaming from beach to beach, we spotted a flock of birds working over bait, and some flyboats acting like it was the only game in town—which indeed it was–well offshore at the North bar. But these fish never moved in and we gave up the ghost around 11am.

Where was everyone, I wondered? None of the locals were out. Kathy Callahan’s and the Mad Hatter’s trucks  were in the barn. Even legendery  surfcasting paparazzo Jack Yee was stumped;  When he said the action was at Dead Man’s Bluff and I said I was just there, he then suggested hesitantly:  “Turtle Cove?” We were all guessing.

Storm Eroded Beaches

Most of the beaches were washed out from early October nor’easters, so passage  was impossible to many prime fishing spots,  including Oyster Pond Cove, Stepping Stones, Shagwong (no go past  the airport landing approach on Gin Beach), Napeague, Hither Hills to Gurney’s, Surfside Inn to Gurney’s. Maybe that is why the “minnow” brigade has been singularly focused on the town beach in Montauk village where one angler estimated a fish was being picked up every 40^th cast. (more like every hundredth cast, to me). For the surfcasters who still show up, this has been pretty much the epicenter of action for weeks now. And the fish are small to tiny.

At 5pm on Friday, I took a solo ride east and thought I spied a flock of birds working hard and low on the water at Oyster Pond Cove. However, there was no way to get there. So home I went. later to dine on grilled veal chops, sweet potato risotto, stuffed acorn squash and roasted cauliflower at Karen MaGovern and Big Bob’s house.

Even my son, "Can't Miss Dan" wasn't able to raise a fish, hard though he worked, wading into the banging surf of Montauk sandbars

Saturday morning, I hoped that my son’s  “can’t miss Dan”  mojo would get us well. Indeed, we walked right into some frenzied bird action off Turtle Cove nearly first thing after sunrise. But this school never came in and dispersed quickly. More birds–including this seasons first appearance  of diving gannets–could the big bait be here?–near the Sewer Pipe. But by the time we suited up for “the walk”, they too evaporated. We worked our way west–Ditch Plains, town beach, etc. We even waded out to the sandbar at Hither HIlls–the scene of Dr. Charlie Boyz’ crime (aka keeper) two weeks previous. But not a bump.

Mike Oliver and The Brits

Sunday morning was an even sadder story. Now the fishermen weren’t even showing up. We searched deserted beaches and finally commited to “the walk” from Ditch Plains east to the Andy Warhol compound. Along the way, we met up with Mike Oliver and his merry band of Brits. Mike and his mates were squeezing in a flycasting session on the last day of their two week fishing holiday. Every fall this group comes from England to fish the Montauk waters and give new meaning to the idea that striper fishing isn’t a matter of life or death–it is MORE important! They fish virtually non-stop, day and night, taking time off only for a little sleep, some beer and bangers and an occasional spot of tea. Dan and I were chatting up Mike on this remote beach at 830am in the morning when he finally excused himself for a final turn in the surf. In about 2 hours Mike had to clean up his rental house, pack up his gear and head for JFK. But for the moment, just one more cast…………

On the way home, Dan and I found some working birds near the White Sands motel and we waded through a deep trough to perch on a sandbar with hopes of reaching what might be feeding under them. Waves crashed in front of us and a wild undertow swept behind us from the back wash. But no fish. After 20 minutes, we figured it was hardly worth continuing to risk our lives, and we hustled back to terra firma. Had the fish been blitzing; Well,  that would have been another story.

Next up: Big Brother Frank  from the Left Coast comes to town for the last act of the season. We did real well last November when he brought the curtain down on the 2008 season. Here’s a look back at that action. Let’s see if he can once again inject the magic we have been lacking thus far.

Meanwhile, Fuck the Yankees.

Stripers in Diapers Rule!

SATURDAY AND SUNDAY, OCTOBER  24-25, 2009

It was Family Weekend at Diane’s  college  in Northampton, MA—so she traveled to the beach for visit with us there. A much better idea than the alternative.

Diane came to fish but the only action she saw was through the lens of her vintage Canon SLR

Diane and I went out both weekend mornings to search for the elusive stripers, but all we could manage was a couple of schoolie shorts. Diane never even donned her waders, even though we were fishing on the sandy beaches of Montauk village. Instead, she shot photos for a school project.

As per usual, all we found was a slow pick of small fish—all bass—ranging in size from 20 to 27 inches. If there was a 28-inch keeper walked off the beach, I didn’t see it.

On Saturday, the weather was unseasonably warmish with temperatures in the 60s, winds SW that kicked up pretty good as the day progressed. We had rain showers morning and afternoon. I got my short bass around 8am on a sandbar at the east end of Montauk village.

Diamond jigs sized A17 with green tubes have been consistently deadly on the small bass that have dominated the Montauk surfcasting action this season

We searched the rest of the morning for some hotter action, but nothing ever developed. We took the afternoon off. On Sunday, we fished a very abbreviated session from sun up to 9am. I got one perky short on a diamond jig, in the same place I fished the day before. Lots of other short bass taken. No blues sighted.

To date, this has shaped up as one very unusal and disappointing season in the surf.

Triple Crown Charlie

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 17, 2009

All capos were on deck.  We had two trucks and two guides–myself and Big Bob Wilsusen–and a full complement of gear all in top condition. If we didn’t catch fish on this day, it would all be Vinny’s fault. At least that was my alibi since  A) we did so well the year he was absent and  B) we got skunked the one previous time he made the trip to Montauk from his home in Benicia, CA. This Saturday morning, the weather had worsened since the weekend began. But it was do or die time because everyone was departing early on Sunday.

All hands were on deck at Ditch Plains on the day that the Red Hill capos slept in while Dr. Charlie Boyz brought home a keeper bass for dinner

Shortly after first light, we watched a loose cloud of birds cruising and wheeling in the sky a couple of hundred yards off the beach in Montauk village. More hunting and roaming ensued. We attempted the north-side Montauk beaches, however, they were simply not accessible with water piled up to the weeds and the rocky beach totally washed out. On the south side, we found a touch of shelter at Turtle Cove. There, the Red Hill capos practiced casting into the white water. Soon they demanded a coffee-and-donuts break in Montauk. To kill time, with the hope that some action would develop, I added a sidetrip to Paulie’s Tackle Shop where we scored a handful of diamond jig lures. We took our brew to Ditch Plains where the sun made valiant attempts to peek through the dense gray clouds. Spirits were high, but all we had to show for our casting by late morning was a bagful of lures half empty.

Pizza or Burgers?

However, we saw at least one short striper landed at Ditch and that gave the boys great hope–and an appetite as well. It was only 1130am, but the Red Hill capos were ready for their third meal of the day (I plied them with scrambled eggs, toast and sliced tomato before we left my house at 7am). Dr. Charlie Boyz and Tony Dolce debated whether pizza or burgers offered the right karma for our afternoon efforts. Dr. Charlie Boyz won and we all sat down to what was a either a really late breakfast or a very early lunch at Montauk’s classic Greek diner, the Plaza Restaurant, where the bleak wintry view out of the curved wall of windows recalled scenes from the Jim Carrey movie: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

While Red Hill capos slept, Dr. Charlie Boyz was nailing bass after bass in the wild white water of the ocean beach near Hither Hills

Afterwards, however, instead of being recharged for a new assault, the boys claimed they needed some “nap time”. All except Dr. Charlie Boyz, that is. “To hell with that,” said the good doctor, “let’s fish”. We dropped off the pantywaists on Treasure Island Drive and Charlie, Big Bob and I headed for the ocean at Napeague—perhaps the only beach with any room to run the trucks. It was all quiet once we got through the dunes. But looking east, we could see six sticks in the water in the vicinity of Hither Hills State Park. Back onto the blacktop, we drove another 3 miles and came back through the dunes. Indeed, we found two handfuls of anglers standing out on an exposed sand bar a good 50 yards from shore and many a bent rod among them.

Triple Crown Charlie

I urged Charlie into the water and Big Bob and I soon followed. Most of the action was focused in a tight area at the tip of the promontory. I signaled Charlie to start cheating to the right. The wind and rain was on our backs but that was the least of our problems. The waves pounded and the backwash was fierce. At one point Charile went down for a good soaking. After a few minutes of casting 1 1/2-ounce diamond jigs with green tubes, I switched Charlie’s lure to a 2-ounce white bucktail. On his next cast, Dr. Charlie Boyz nailed a hungry striper. We were excited to say the least. Two days of fishing and finally a hook up. Lots of pressure on this fish, and Charlie handled it nobly.

Dr. Charlie Boyz captured the Triple Crown of Fishing for Capos Surfcasting Weekend '09 with the first fish, largest fish and most fish

Through the foamy white water, he coaxed the fish to his boots. Exhausted, the bass floated on its side . We marveled at the monochromatic contrast of this schoolie’s blue-black stripes against a silvery-white belly on this dreary sun-starved afternoon. Though chubby from gorging on skinny 3-inch sand eels, this fish was just shy of a keeper and we released it to swim another day.  In no time, however, Charlie was on another fish. By this time, he had the technique honed: pull up with the incoming wave, reel down to pick up line. In short order Charile had this fish by his side and it measured out at 29 inches plus! Dinner was on hand! I waded the fish back through the trough and into our cooler. By the time I got back on the bar, Charlie was on his third fish! Alas, it was another short.  Soon, Bob and I connected but both our fish were short too.

This slow pick slacked off with the end of the tide. Arm weary, exhilarated and pretty well soaked, we retired to Treasure Island Drive to gloat. One by one, the Red Hill capos awoke from their food comas to see Charlie’s triumph on the fish table outside my house. Once photos were taken, I filleted the fish and prepared it for the grill.

Grilled fillet of fresh caught striped bass dressed in an olive oil emulsion of lemon, garlic, wine, basil and capers, served with roasted new potatoes

Adapting a dressing I learned in Sicily, I served up this bass with roasted new potatoes, eggplant parmigiana as a side dish, and another new adaptation: Striped Bass Brandade accompanied by garlic toast, as hors d’oeuvres. By dinner’s end, we made a serious dent in Dolce’s Cugini e Amici wine stash. Finally, after Natalie’s pumpkin pie, Haagan Dazs vanilla and chocolate ice cream and espresso coffee, the cards came out. Can you guess who cleaned our clocks? Dr. Charlie Boyz! On this day, he went from 2008 Surfcasting Rookie of the Year to 2009 Triple Crown Winner (First Fish, Biggest Fish, Most Fish).  He also claimed a personal trifecta for the weekend: high hook in the fishing department, gross winner at the poker table and happy Yankee fan with two victories over the Los Angeles Angels in the ALCS .

I have a sneaky feeing he is coming back next year.

Click here for Photo Gallery

“Get Ready to Get Wet”

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 17, 2009

Dr. Charlie Boyz Catalano, last year’s surf rookie of the year, and Bobbie Avitabile, MVP of the Capos Surfcasting Weekend ’08, were first to arrive, late Thursday evening. Previously, I told them never to come back to surfcast because we could never reproduce the fishing success we scored last year. But they would have none of it. Mother Nature, however, shortly drove home my point.

At first light, fortified with scrambled egg sandwiches and a thermos of hot coffee, we were in the truck and off on a hunt for fish. Big Bob took a pass on the early morning run, citing five foot waves driven by gale force winds on Peconic Bay.

A vicious nor'easter blew more than 30 mph right into our faces at Montauk Point

He swore he was not dreaming and I believed him. Checking the ocean near the East Hampton Main Beach jetty, it was obvioius we wouldn’t have any beach sand to run the truck on this day. Big wind. Big water. We headed east to see how things were shaping up on the town beaches of Montauk. The surf was fierce and very few sticks were in the water. Finally, we made our way out to Mecca: Montauk Point.  The wind blew with a sting and the surf heaved loudly in protest. Some 400 yards off shore, a long brown sand slick from the erosion of the north side beaches followed the current that swept around the lighthouse jetty. And though the breakers remained relatively clean, the fishing was shut down tight for the morning.

Shortly before noon, Felix Fanti and Tony Dolce arrived in Amagansett, so we headed back to Treasure Island Drive to suit them up. First, of course, the boys had to be fed. Eggplant parmigiana sandwiches with broccoli rabe on Semolina mini-loaves quelled most of their hunger.

Tony Dolce arrived well stocked with his private label vino: Cugini e Amici

Dr. Charlie Boyz went for a bowl of fish chowder and a piece of grilled lemon-and-garlic chicken.  We washed this all down with a toast from Dolce’s private label vinos: Cugini e Amici. Then, outfitted with rod, reel and waders, five of the six Red Hill Capos were ready to fish. Vinny DeNave was still in transit from Newark Airport where he arrived on the red eye from the west coast earlier in the morning.

We spent the afternoon bouncing back and forth between Turtle Cove, the North Bar and the town beach in Montauk. But there would be no fish for us this day. Once Vinny arrived, we  cut the day short with hope for better luck on Saturday. Dinner, some hi-low poker and rest for another battle against the nor’easter was the late afternoon plan. The evening’s menu was striped bass al forno with linguini, brocolli rabe contori, and Laura Papa’s Birthday Linzer Torte for dessert.

Click here for the full Capos Go Surfcasting 2009 Photo Gallery

A Keeper Before the Storm

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 15, 2009

It was the best of times in 2008.

It was the worst of times in 2009.

At least as far as weather conditions for the Red Hill Gang’s annual surfcasting trip to Montauk, LI, the surfcasting capital of the world.

Birds danced above big white water that piled on the beaches driven by a fierce nor'easter

We had high winds and pissy rain on Thursday, and conditions got progressively worse with each day, right through Sunday. Big winds and big water got bigger and badder with each day. “Get Ready to get wet,” I told the boys who had only known idyllic conditions from an unseasonably mild weekend last October when the fishing was absolutely stupid with keeper-bass and gangster-bluefish blitzes around the clock.

This year, not so much. A fierce nor’easter turned this year’s trip snotty as could be and the only recourse was to find a patch of white water that looked good and fish it. And the few of us who did, reaped rewards.

Big Bob Wilsusen was on hand to help guide in the second truck since I expected a full complement of six Red Hill “Capos” for this year’s event. Vinny, absent last year when the fishing was insanely great, was coming back to make up for the skunk he experienced in 2007. Before the crew arrived from various points west and south, however, there was scouting and cooking to get done. So Big Bob and I rendezvoused for “full force” recon at oh-dark-thirty.

Reports had all the action pinned in Montauk village. Small cocktail blues and short stripers had been the consistent catch for a week or so; Nothing more. We paid a cursory visit to the town beach before moving on to Mecca: Montauk Point. There we braved wind and rain in our face as we chased the fish all around the  Lighthouse, from south side to northside before I finally got well on our last effort.

Big Bob says I was rewarded at the 11^th hour for my perseverance. However, I tend to think I was forgiven for my rookie tactical error. Whatever; The result was a 29 inch keeper bass taken on a bottle plug thrown into the jaws of the nor’easter  near the beach entrance between False Point and Jones Reef at high noon.

This 29-inch keeper was either a reward for my perseverance or forgiveness for my rookie tactical error

Winds that morning were NNE at 20- to 30-mph with gusts up to 40 mph plus. Water was piled up across the beaches, reaching to the weeds at North Bar and there was no access at the entrance beyond a small rocky ledge near Jones Reef. We first went into Camp Hero and from the bluff saw fish blitzing in a tight pod amid the rocks below. I didn’t think there’d be a parking spot at Turtle Cove, so we drove to the Sewer Pipe instead and tried to catch up with the fish by “doing the walk” east. Big mistake. We kept coming up short and by the time we had humped our way to Turtle Cove the fish had been there and gone. That is, all but those that were caught—and there were quite a few, including the six that George of the Jungle was stringing up and tagging for sale.

George Of The Jungle: Pin Hooker Extraordinaire

Later, when we saw George’s truck near the North Bar, the cooler box was literally bursting at the lid with tagged bass. George is a pin hooker who gets a set number of tags each year from New York State, which allows him to keep and sell fish as small as 24-inches. No two-fish, 28-inch limit for George. He can keep as many as he wants, so long as he has sufficient tags.

And quite the fisherman is George. So good you would think he’d smile now and then. But he doesn’t. Even on this day, as he continued to nail fish after fish at the North Bar, casting bucktails with a handful of other local sharpies, George was as grim-faced as ever.

George of the Jungle's Fishbox was teeming with tagged bass caught at Turtle Cove and the North Bar

Big Bob and I fished right next to this group, and we got nary a hit. Birds were working and it seemed like we were on the fish that had rounded the Point. No big fish came up, but those who were catching got hits very close in. Bob and I moved over to the Stepping Stones where we could see an armada of vehicles in Oyster Pond Cove. But birds were working their way towards us so we stood our ground and fished. We were mugged shortly by a handful of other sharpies who began hooking up and adding to our frustration. I switched to a 3-ounce bottle plug to cut through the wind and keep from getting hung up n the rocky bottom. Finally, I got a hit. It was a fat little bass, probably loaded with sand eels bait. But he came up short of 28-inches, so back in the drink he went.

By now the rain and wind had picked up significantly. Bob and I returned to the truck and headed for the barn. “Are we done?” I asked. “For sure”, Bob answered. “I agree,” said I, “unless that is a blitz up ahead.” And it was. As we approached the beach exit, birds were flapping and squawking above the rocks in casting range. We were in the water in seconds and for a few minutes, we had the location all to ourselves. I raised one fish on my bottle plug which was doing a decent job of cutting through the wind. Two casts later, I got a solid hit and the fish turned out to be just the right size for our cooler box: a 29-inch keeper. At once, we were mugged by a whole slew of sharpies and that was our signal to go home.We quit at 1230pm. I took the rest of the day off to prepared meals for the Red Hill Capos and later in the afternoon I brought my fish to Annie Sessler the Fish Rub artist.

Click here for Photo Gallery of Red Hill Capos Go Surfcasting 2009

My striper print was produced by Annie Sessler of East End Fish Prints in Montauk

Hit and Run Bluefish Blitz in Montauk

OCTOBER 10&11, 2009

Finally. It’s on.

After weeks of rumor and hope, including reports of no fish, fish just out of reach, here-and-there fish, the fish finally blitzed the beach in Montauk this morning (Oct. 11). I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time for a hit-and-run bluefish assault complete with splashing tails and squawking gulls. In the abbreviated action, I landed three bluefish and took one home for the table.

Until now, October has been the pits for surf fishing–virtually since the last week in September. Yom Kippur was a major disappointment compared to Rosh Hoshanah, and I was gleeful that the online reports confirmed I missed nothing in the surf while I was walking the streets of Paris with Natalie the first weekend of the month.

Earlier this week, I took advantage of the mild fall weather and prowled the ocean beaches in a bathing suit and t-shirt until winds picked up to over 40 mph and turned Wednesday into a total blow out Still, only rumors of a few fish on the Montauk town beaches with the only keeper size bass being snagged at night.

On Saturday morning, I diligently joined the fray on the town beach and took one cocktail bluefish in front of the village motels before moving down to Gurney’s where I plucked a 22-inch bass from the surf.

Small blues and bass on the Montauk Village beach have been the only October action in the surf.

Both were taken on a 1 ½-oz. Kastmaster with a white bucktail. The fish weren’t showing, and the birds were only cruising and circling. But the fish autopsy later confirmed that sand eels were abundant. Saturday afternoon the winds were down but the action was all offshore. I gave it up before dark.

Sunday morning, with only a short session possible before I returned up island, I joined a sunrise Conga line of at least 200 surfcasters lining the shore from the Surfside Inn overlook to the far eastern limit of Montauk village. The surf’s heavy chop and sweep from the day before was gone. And despite the sizable crowd on the beach, it was eerily still and quiet. Every now and then a pole bent in a slow pick of small fish—bass and blues. At 7:01-ayem the first golden rays of sunshine shone on a cloud of birds over deep water to the east off Dead Man’s Bluff. Then the sky darkened with another swarm of gulls, this one west of the Surfside Inn.

My casts were sure, but not productive. Still, I stood my ground and with a change of lures to a 2-oz crippled herring, I was able to get more distance. Not that I needed it; a tiny cocktail blue hit this lure right in the wash. And in the time it took to land this fish and deposit it in the cooler, the blitz took shape. First came violent tail splashes well beyond casting range. Then the birds moved over the fray. A few bent rods to my left told me the fish were moving in. And then the splashes were within casting range. I hurled my crippled herring into the fray. Nada. Now poles were bent right and left of me. Still, I got zilch. I switched back to the lighter-weight Kastmaster, which seemed to do the trick. Bumped twice, then a hit, but no hook up. Another cast, and I was on. This was a decent size bluefish, but I couldn’t leave the water for fear of losing my spot. Casters trying to zero in on the blitz, which was directly in front of me, had already mugged me. So bluefish #2 was released to swim another day. A few more casts, a few more bumps and then another solid hit. This bluefish was the largest of the three. But again, I released it, vowing to keep the next fish and retire shortly, as my 8am deadline was approaching. Burt there wasn’t another fish. The action moved back offshore beyond the breakers as quickly as it came in. I hunted the shoreline to the west, but all were quiet and docile, a fall beach stroller’s dream.

The Sunrise Conga Line in Montauk Village, Columbus Weekend '09

I arrived home  happy with my tiny cocktail bluefish, and with high hopes that the season is about to hit full stride—just in time for the arrival next week of the Red Hill Capos, who are coming back to try and repeat history from 2008.

Great Weather; No Fish

OCTOBER 6 & 7, 2009

Returned from a long weekend in Paris on Monday. Drove to the beach on Tuesday. Roamed around in the afternoon and ate my lunch at the Sewer Pipe. Great weather. No fish. Wind picked up and fish schooled up over pods of sand eels bait, but stayed out of range. Birds out beyond the breakers off Ditch Plains and Montauk village. Dinner at Lupo’s with Tono. Wednesday, roamed some more, spent some time at Turtle Cove where I ran into Pepe the Spaniard. He fished the town beach overnight and had one keeper size bass. I left early. No Fish.

For the first week in October, this lone caster on Montauk's north side says it all: " Nuthin' Honey".