FishTales

A slow start of schoolies on the beach built to a crescendo of keepers in Clark’s Cove

SEPT. 13-23: I finally got around to some serious beach roaming and casting once the last of summer house guests departed and the BW took off for points south and west on business. I ventured forth with the West Coast contingent: nephew Chris, who last year gave us all a fishing lesson at East Hampton’s Main Beach, Clam Pie Keith, who has been absent from the beach since the Rosh Hoshanah Blitz of 2009, and Chris’ barefoot buddy DJ, a novice to it all. I watched what looked like albies (false albacore) crashing bait under diving birds off North Bar while Chris gave DJ casting lessons. Homeward bound, we mugged a lone eagle surfcaster who just nailed a doubleheader of short bass as we drove past at the western edge of Napeague State Park. That was as much action as we could scare up for the day. Tenacious Bucktailin’ Billy then joined me and Keith hunting and casting in vain in all the right places. The good news is that despite the storms, the beaches were in good shape for driving.

Midweek,  I landed a 16-inch chamber of commerce striper on Truck Beach, in between the A-frame and Koosmeyers. I threw a Kastmaster with a white tube teaser into a descending tide, frothy with white water from a stiff NNW breeze.  The fish hit the teaser right in the wash. That evening,  the season turned to autumn like someone threw a switch. The light changed, the temperature changed, the wind changed.  A cold rainy front rode in on a NNW wind, dropped temperatures some 25 degrees into the 50s. Lots of fall fishermen started to show up around the Point and they all had that forlorn “where’s the fish?” look.

Lots of fishing. Lots of reports. Lots of  rumor chasing. Catching, not so much. Dan joined us on the weekend for a 24-hour lightening round. But all we gained for our efforts was assurance that our equipment worked, and a tasty lunch of caponata sandwiches and grilled tuna on semolina at the North Bar. The season was way behind.

Catching up with Slammin’ Sam the Hook at Indian Wells Tavern, I fully expected his sarcastic reaction to my stunted quarry to date: “What’s that you were holding in the photo?” he asked.  “It looked like a striper, but was to small to actually be one.”  He went on: “That fish you were holding looked like it might grow up to be a striped bass one day.” Sam backed his bravado with a slaughter earlier in the day of blues and bass up to 18 pounds on the ocean beach west of Hither Hills State Park. Between quips, he corroborated a rumor that bait moved in around Montauk prompting a riot of hit and run blitzes. Seemed like every time I took a break, the fish hit hard.

Then another front moved through and the winds switched around out of the east.  The surf pounded, but most beaches remained passable. On Sam’s fish tip, Billy  and I switched from bottom dragging AVA diamond jigs to top riding Shorty Hopkins’ lures that scored us some throw-back schoolies at sun up on the sandy beaches of Napeague. A little action was better than none.  As the afternoon wind howled, Billy and I found other pursuits to avoid fishing. Word came later that fish blitzed in and out at the Point from Turtle Cove to Brown’s. At least Billy was negotiating a plumbing snafu.  What was my excuse?

Back to the point again at first light,  we watched through our binoculars a handful of keepers landed by Stuie H. and a few other sharpies tossing bucktails near the Stepping Stones west of Clark’s Cove. Billy and I ventured to Oyster Cove Pond before the high tide washed out the beach trail  but missed the brief flurry of action. Billy was done for the day and I took the rest of the morning to “get some work done”, while monitoring encouraging fish reports from Charlie R. Blues and bass had hit the north side, he texted.  With a clear afternoon sky and diminished winds, I returned alone to the Point and that is when the action got hot in Clark’s Cove.

Waters were calm, and there was a gentle swell with an outgoing tide.  Pods of small bait visibly rippled the surface. The tiny, silvery fish exploded whenever my Shorty Hopkins landed in their midst. But whatever was chasing the bait, wasn’t interested in my offerings.  Further out, I saw birds diving and larger fish breaking water.  Under the cover of dark, I reasoned, these fish might move into range.  And so they did.  As soon as the sun slipped behind the dune, larger fish attacked the close in bait pods. I coulnd’t tell what kind, but from the way these predators flung their bodies from the water, I presumed bluefish.  Casting easily and using a fast retrieve to keep the 1-ounce lure topside, my rod lurched from a solid hit a mere 30 yards out.  Hook set, I had the fish ashore in no time and was astounded to see it was a keeper bass of nearly 30 inches. I got mugged immediately as I took striper to the truck. It was dark, but there was plenty of  fishing room even with some two dozen sharpies rimming Clark’s Cove. I had two more strikes, but dropped both fish. Then a solid slam convinced me that I may have kept the wrong fish. This one tugged and ran and then finally gave up at the shoreline.  It was a gangster bluefish some 27 inches long. Not the 20-pound bass I was hoping for, though it fought like one. This fish convinced me my night was complete.

I never have put together back-to-back fishing sessions with much success. The next morning was no exception. Billy was back and we returned to the scene of the crime, this time at oh-dark-hundred hours.  At first light, Billy got a big splashy hit so close to him, that if the fish had missed, he would have bitten Billy’s waders.  A 10-pound schoolie, just under the 28-inch minimum had attempted suicide on Billly’s Point Judith lure.  But it was not to be his final swim.  After a quick photo, the striper was returned to become table fare another day. Next up, is the Rosh Hoshanah Blitz (we hope) of 2011.  And then the fall fishing season prime time: October. Stay tuned.

This entry was posted on Sunday, September 25th, 2011 at 1:15 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.