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 40th 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.
Sorry about the lack of fish action Fred, but tell me more about the sweet potato risotto.
Chaweenee–Here is what my buddy Karen had to share about her sweet potato risotto:
…while following conventional risotto procedure, the addition of one sweet
potatoes, small dice, was sauteed with the onion. The potato cooked
nicely with the addition of each cup of stock.
Finish off with the usual parmesan cheese and chopped garden herbs.
That’s it.
Enjoy,
Karen
You write so beautifully, Fred. I’m waiting to read your first novel?