FishTales

Big Bob banged a keeper bass in record time

November 6, 2010

White Water: Bob's keeper near the East Deck Motel

There’s good reason why Big Bob needs a Gulfstream 5.  One week he’s in DC, the next in Sonoma or Tahoe. Miami here, Gettysburg there, ad infinitum. For business, or pleasure, whatever.  The man just never stays still. Take a recent November Saturday morning. On the beach in East Hampton at daybreak, Bob phoned in a fish report at 730am saying the waves were outrageous and he’s headed to Ditch Plains to watch the surfers. Shortly after 8am, he joined a conga line of fishermen in front of the East Deck Motel. In minutes, Bob nailed the only keeper from a slow pick of small fish in very big water.  Then, off with his waders, on to breakfast at John’s Pancake House, and then back to Clearwater marina to dry dock his boat for the season.  Whew, I was so tired thinking of Bob’s day that I almost couldn’t fish.  Almost.

Bucktailin' Billy: A casting exercise at Ditch Plains

Meanwhile, Bucktailin’ Billy S. and I put in our time at Ditch Plains, Hither Hills and elsewhere on that same big water morning tide.  But there was virtually no beach to ride and we never got even a bump on our casts. We quit before lunch.  Later, however, I followed up on a fish call from Capt. Harvey Bennett and went back to the ocean beach where I banged two schoolies, one of which I dropped, in another slow pick west of Indian Wells Beach.  I ended the day with a casting exercise for naught near Napeague Lane. So what do to for dinner? Local whiting from Stuart’s Seafood poached in a garlicky clam broth served over linguine and shucked cherrystones.  That took the sting out.

It looks like a two horse race.  Seagulls  don’t count….

November 4, 2010

Bucktailin' Billy's Keeper: Monday morning magic

We’re about eight weeks into my 12 week fall fishing season, a good time to take a look at 2010’s Surf Rookie of the Year standings. Bucktailin’ Billy S. seems to be on top by a narrow margin. Billy came at his first season in the surf with a vengeance. He started by buying a house in East Hampton.  That showed REAL desire.  Then he dropped a bundle on the proper gear at The Tackle Shop in Amagansett. That got him the inside track on the inane rantings of Captain Harvey Bennett; excellent fodder for a right and proper attitude required to fish the surf. In September, Billy chased fish all around the rocks near The Sewer Pipe on Montauk’s southside, where blitzing bass tested his patience by staying just a cast out of reach.  Finally, Billy showed great surfaholic potential by staying out on an extra Monday here and there and building client appointments around his fishing schedule.  Putting in the time has paid off for him.  A keeper in mid-October (See Red Hill Capos Return for Surfcasting 2010) and lots of short fish week after week. Some cocktail blues have rounded out his portfolio, including a double-header late in the month.

John TKOed this schoolie with a Kastmaster to the head

But Billy is not without a worthy challenger.  In the wings is Jolting John P. who also suffered the mossy boulder fields and pounding surf in front of the refrigerator rock at Kings Point where he ingloriously dropped a quality fish in a Columbus Day weekend blitz. However, John did manage a keeper from that session (See Columbus Day Weekend: Stripers on the Rocks) and, for the season, John’s fish-per-minute slugging percentage is awesome. He’s really only been out twice and had fish both times. There ain’t no skunk on him. Still, going into the stretch, Billy is ahead slightly on points. The crucial question is whether John P. will put down the driver long enough to pick up the rod and reel….hint, hint, hint.

Sunrise Surprise: Julian's first striper in the surf

Other 2010 entries include Julian H, a visiting surfcasting novice from Massachusetts. One session, one schoolie (see Four F. Weekend: Family, Friends, Fish & Food). Not bad for starters. Finally, we have Sydney T., or “Seagull Syd”.  She wasn’t aware that we only count swimming creatures.  Those of the winged variety, we usually leave on the beach. No points for Sydney.  But we’re glad she came out. She sure can cast nice and her pumpkin ice cream is the best.

Seagull Syd: A gamer in the surf. But no finny creature to show for her efforts

Tell tall tales.  The weirder….the wilder….the better

November 3, 2010

It’s not that fishermen are necessarily into hallucinogenics.  It is more the case that the beach itself is a sort of drug. A case in point.

Click on this photo for Captain Harvey Bennett's latest inane "Mobile Tackle Shop" report

Tea Party, schmee party.   I voted the stars & stripers party

Nov. 2, 2010: Cold and clear. Frost warnings. Temps in the 30s; wind chills high 20s.  On a tip from John P., who has a client living in the Ditch Plains Mobile Home Condo Park, I intending to “do the walk”.  Intense bird activity close in near the East Deck Motel delayed my trek, but the action was too far to reach. I watched a few shorts taken from the rocks before heading east on foot. I never saw a tide so low. I marched past a couple of hundred yards of mossy boulder fields. I followed a thick school of birds towards Cavett’s Cove, but they never came within reach. I ate my breakfast, found an ugly as sin black and brown tied fly—which would prove deadly later—and a Striper Swiper popping plug. Back to my truck to survey conditions at Montauk Point. George of the Jungle was keeping vigil near the North Bar. Otherwise nada. Back to Amagansett.  Birds working—first Gannets of the season—far off Napeague. I moved in front of the blue house near Mako Lane where I had two shorts. Slammin’ Sam the Hook walked up to the shoreline, threw a left-handed cast, and reeled in a double header. Little fish were hitting inside the inner bar. I pulled out my fly rod for the first time this season.  Switched back to plugging with a shorty Hopkins and used my ugly-as-sin fly as a teaster on an eight foot Mojo rod. I nailed a fatty keeper that leapt in the waves. It put up a vigorous but brief fight. I stayed in the same spot and had bumps all afternoon and two more shorts—my own double header. Home early to filet my keeper.

Election Day Keeper: I voted for the stars and stripers ticket

Can’t Miss Dan’s comeback with schoolies and a keeper

October 29-31, 2010

Comeback fisherman of 2010: Dan with a schoolie striper

After our family gathering dispersed on October 26, Dan stayed the week leading up to Halloween and had good fishing from beginning to end.  One afternoon, he strolled down to the beach at the end of TI Drive where, as he says, “I had all the fish I wanted.” Unfortunately, they were schoolies of the 26-inch variety, so nothing to plate for the early part of his vacation.  But on Friday morning, once the wet and foggy weather was gone, he scored a bunch of fish, including a 31-inch keeper, fishing the bar just west of Indian Wells beach.

Saturday and Sunday, I joined Dan trying to recreate his success.  Big winds and a strong west to east rip in the surf made fishing a real challenge.  Dan managed two shorties. His friend Sydney—hereafter known as Seagull Syd—tangled a gull and I wore the skunk. On Sunday morning, Big Bob’s son, John M. and bucktailing Billy S. joined us for a brief, got-to-get-back-to-work, first light session.  Billy S. was late to the party, joining us near Atlantic beach around 8am.  But he saved the morning with a hook up on a 26-inch schoolie, putting him decidedly a striper ahead in the Surf Rookie of the Year standings.

Pumpkin Alers: Natalie L., Dan, Sydney, Whiskey Dave

The highlight of the weekend took place at home on Saturday evening.  Seagull Syd and Whiskey David A. were packing 14—that’s right 14!—varieties of Pumpkin Ale and a spreadsheet on which to judge them.  Their annual Pumpkin Ale Taste Off was built around a dinner featuring Daniel’s Friday morning keeper, cooked in a Livornese variation; sauteed with capers, shallots, green olives, plum tomatoes and white wine. It was additionally adorned with two dozen little neck clams.

Striped Bass Livornese adorned with little neck clams

Seasonal sides were roasted local cauliflower and brussell sprouts, brown rice with red onions, celery and carrots, arugula salad and, for dessert, pumkin ice-cream pie with ginger snap crumble crust.

Billy stayed after we all split early on Sunday.  He worked the Montauk ocean beach west of the Surfside overlook on tips from Harvey and Sam D. that the fish were holed up pretty strong near Gurney’s Inn. He managed one short before daybreak on Monday.  Top of the Rookie leader board he remains.

The whole mishpocheh: Gina, Chris, Fred, Dan, Diane, Big Brother Frank

Cali-striper-fication: Fishing Lessons from the Left Coast

October 23-24, 2010

Chris gave us a fishing lesson in the surf near Main Beach

On a balmy autumn Sunday, after a hefty family lunch on my deck, while most of my gathered family retired to football games or afternoon naps, Big Brother Frank, had a different idea. Lone-eagle style, he giddy-upped his Ford Bronco to Amagansett’s Atlantic Beach where he promptly nailed a 30-inch keeper bass.  The evening before, near East Hampton’s Main Beach jetty, his son Chris employed a white feather teaser and a sand-eel imposter lure to beach four schoolie stripers, all in the 26-inch range. It was a fishing lesson for us East Coast yahoos from the Left Coast brigade. Humbled were the hosts.

Frank put out a fish call right after depositing his Sunday keeper in the cooler. My house phone blared just as I curled up for a siesta.  I planned on a walk with my son Dan to TI Beach later, since that was ground zero for the weekend action: a slow pick of mostly schoolie bass. But I rounded up my posse—Daniel, Diane, and Di’s beau Julian—and off we went to join Frank.  All we managed, however, was a couple of shorts—one each for Dan and me. Frank’s 30-inch fish went to Annie Sessler at East End Fish Prints in Montauk for a Japenese-style rubbing on silk, which will eventually be framed and displayed above his mantle.

Surf Rookie: Julian's first striper

On Saturday morning, while my family kept the beach honest at Napeague to the east, Bucktailin’ Billy S. and Big Bob banged bluefish near East Hampton’s Main Beach, including a double header for Billy, simultaneously on his lure and teaser. For a short while, that put Billy ahead for Surf Rookie of the Year 2010 honors.  But Joltin’ John P. got even later that afternoon when he hooked a shorty bass through the head with a Kastmaster. An extreme technique to say the least. At least he didn’t bash its brains with his 5-iron. Meanwhile, Julian became a dark horse Surf Rookie candidate when, at first light on Saturday, he caught his first fish ever in the surf: a 22-inch schoolie that was released to swim another day.

Not to be left out, Dan had three fish that morning—and one cocktail bluefish that went into the cooler and joined the chowder pot for Saturday night’s dinner at Frank’s house.

Big Bob and Karen M. serve up pumkin gnocchi

Natalie and I skipped the family chowder fest. Instead, we took our place at the table of Big Bob and Karen’s house for The Dinner Club of Manhasset’s Fall Festival along with Bill S., John P. and their BW’s. The menu was a riot of delicious dishes themed around a variety of squashes and pumpkins. For an eyeful of the evening’s meal, click here.

For the Scotch? The food? The poker? I think not the fish.

October 15-18, 2010

Capos on the beach. But were they here for the fishing?

Back for their third October visit to Amagansett in three years, the Red Hill Gang, or Brooklyn’s CCNY (Capos Club of New York), have been playing the role of sporty surfcasters since 2008. But the way the Johnny Walker Scotch flows, the steaks, linguine and frittatas are consumed, and my poker losses mount,  I suspect they don’t always come for the fishing. When Tony showed up this year with a box of goodies from Veniero’s Pasticceria near 1st Ave, two loaves of lard bread from an East Village bakery, a liter and a half of Black Label and two bottles of his personally labeled red wine, I was pretty certain an alternate agenda was at hand.

Big brother Frank (rt) joined the Red HIll Gang for fishing

Which probably was a good thing because after a week-long run of consistently blitzing striped bass at Montauk Point, a vicious noreaster moved up the coast just before the weekend to shut down the bite like a light switch. Bobbie A. and Doctor “Charlie Boyz” C. literally blew in along with the front Thursday night. Rain and wind persisted overnight. Friday morning was overcast, blustery but not very wet.  Winds were WNW at 30 mph, gusting close to 40-mph. But we went out for a morning hunt just to keep the beach honest. We were nearly swept off the bluff at Camp Hero but the surf was still white and foamy on the south side; fishable but unfortunately not fishy.  The northside, churned like a washing machine, was out of the question for casting. Big brother Frank, newly returned from La-La Land, joined us for the usual rounds. Capt. Harvey Bennett at The Tackle Shop had been touting the ocean beach fishing since before the storm so we paid close attention to the sandy stretches nearer to Amagansett. We found lots of high flying birds. Promises, promises. But nothing to hook and cook.

Felix & Tony: Our Lady Of Grace parish's dynamic duo

When the Our Lady of Grace duo–Tony and Felix–arrived, we broke for lunch; homemade fish chowder chock full of calamari, shrimp and, of course, striped bass from Wednesday’s catch. We washed this down with chilled Orvieto.  Recharged, we did some late afternoon sharp shooting at Turtle Cove, and Hither Hills. But this day was destined not to produce. Reluctantly–right?–we moved on to drinks. Our cocktail menu comprised nearly the full spectrum of Johnny Walker Scotches–from Black to Green to Gold to the capo di tutte capo: Blue Label. Dinner was built around striped bass and linguine puttanesca. Thanks to a couple of tricks from my friend Laura, I used some capers, anchovies and Kalamata olives to adapt a perfect tomato sauce cooked up in advance by Natalie, the BW. Of course, there was broccoli rabe for Felix and Italian pastries provided by Bobbie and Tony. Frank stuck around for Hi-Low poker–taking at least 25 of my dollars off the table–while Dr. Charlie Boyz and Frank’s wife Toni rooted the Yankees to a come-from-behind victory over Texas in the ALCS opener.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Culture Vultures

Rubber slippers replaced neoprene waders on Pollock's floor

Saturday, if possible, was windier still, howling out of the NW. The beach was overcast and cold. Stripers don’t really have a mind sloppy weather–in fact they thrive in it.  But my buddies feel otherwise. We passed on the morning fishing, did breakfast at the Golden Pear in Sag Harbor, and then joined the 11am guided tour of the Pollock-Krasner House Museum in Springs.  I showed the boys some local scenic spots–Accabonac Harbor Creek, Gerard Drive and Louse Point. We talked about our families. We solved each others’ problems and the world’s. We bided our time.

Fish On: Macaroni Beach produced!

The afternoon warmed up enough for a tailgate lunch of cold grilled chicken and beers at Turtle Cove. Checking the ocean beach on the way to TC, Tony spotted a flock of black ducks taking wing over the breakers.  “There’s some birds! There’s some birds!” he cried, hoping to repeat his role as the fish finder of the Clark’s Cove Blitz of 2008. Politely, I instructed that he was looking at the wrong type of birds.  “We’ll they’re eating something and I don’t think it’s macaroni,” he replied. He had a point. And so the legacy of Macaroni Beach was born.

At Turtle Cove it didn’t happen. We cast as if we came to fish–heck, some of us did!–but the only life we saw was a big black seal. 4Runner Dan and his long-casting friend John from Centerport tipped us that there were fish earlier at Napeague Beach.  So back to, ahem, Macaroni Beach we went to catch the outgoing tide and the last few hours of sunlight. With the wind at our backs, we casted long and strong. The surf got birdy and as the sun started to descend, fish began busting.

Short Bass: No keeper, but our fortunes were looking up

It took about an hour, but we got into a slow pick of fish. A couple of blues were beached and many short stripers were thrown back. A keeper or two made it to some coolers–not ours. I had one throwback baby bass; some 22-24 inches. The boys wanted lobsters so I ordered up a bunch of dinners from Stuart’s Seafood, complete with corn on the cob, mussels, steamer clams. That meant we had to leave the beach before 6pm.  The action was still heating up,  but we vowed to return in the morning for more. Back home, I grilled New York strip steaks, heated striped bass brandade that I made from my birthday bass,  and invited Capt. Bennett to join us at the bar and the table.

Weekend Guests: The Johnny Walker family from Scotland

We drank deep into our array of Johnny Walker Scotch. Harvey stayed for surf and turf. Then the poker cards came out over coffee. I guess I don’t have to tell you how that turned out.  Felix at last finished “in the chips”, thanks to his skill with 5-card Bridget, 7-card Tanya and various other games that he surely makes up on the fly and that we will never win without a PhD.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Snooze and lose.

It was clear we needed to return to the scene of the crime—Macaroni, nee Napeague Beach–and do so early. This was break away day for Bobbie, Felix and Tony–all except Dr. Charlie Boyz.  My mistake was to serve breakfast  home instead of packing it to the beach.  We saw the price we paid for lingering over our tomato frittata when two departing sporties told us at the Napeague Beach entrance:  “you missed it.” As evidence, they pointed to a pair of fine fat fish in the back of their pick up.  Chastened, we traveled east and managed to catch up with a school of bluefish and small bass near Hither Hills.  Our mood brightened.  I nailed one throw-back striper and put two bluefish in the cooler.  Charlie shook the skunk with a cocktail bluefish he hooked on the feathered teaser.  We chased and chased east until the tide dropped out near Gurney’s.  Tony saluted his money at Bernie Madoff’s former beach house below the bluff and we took a coffee and crumb cake break at the Montauk Bake Shoppe. Our weekend fishing efforts were essentially sealed and it was back to the barn for goodbyes until next year to Felix, Tony and Bobbie.

Charlie and I packed some sandwiches for an afternoon run. Surf Rookie of the Year candidate Billy S. drove out from Manhasset to join our hunt. But the fish never rematerialized at Napeague or elsewhere.  We watched the sun set to amazing colors over the Double Dunes at Atlantic Ave. and retired to a grilled bluefish dinner supplemented with cole slaw (Stuart’s), home made skillet potatoes, and a mixed green salad with local beefsteak tomatoes.  For dessert, we wolfed down the last of Veniero’s pastries. The scotch was dwindling but we didn’t have a single keeper for the weekend. The next morning would be the last chance for fame and glory.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Massacre At Macaroni Beach

Before the sun got high: I predicted we'd each have............

.......keeper bass in the cooler before 8am. I was right

Breakaway day.  Dr. Charlie Boyz had an afternoon flight to the Left Coast.  Billy S. had contractors to visit up island.  I needed to get back to reality because I felt gills growing behind my ears.  Frank returned from a visit with his daughter Gina.  I coerced everyone into the truck at oh-dark-hundred. We needed to be beachside by sun up. Straight to Napeague we flew where, lickity-split, we spied working birds to the east. I had an incredibly optimistic feeling that we’d all get well this morning and said so.  “Keepers in the cooler by 8am” I predicted out loud.

When we spotted swirls inside the gentle curl of the waves on the inner bar, I was out of the truck, into the water like a shot. The fish were in very close.  Gulls squawked and hovered above, pointing the way.  The wind was negligible, down to 5 or 10 mph out of the west.  The tide was moving and water and air temperatures seemed identical: somewhere in the low 60s. I fished in shorts and barefeet.

I banged a fish on my first cast, but got bit off inside the bar.  Bluefish. To save time, I simply switched rods. However, same result: fish on and dropped when my line was bit through. I was furious.

The sun peeked over the horizon as I retied my leader.  Frank’s line went  taut. His rod bent, his back straightened and he became the perfect sunrise silhouette. He landed the first fish of the day and it was quality: A 30-inch plus keeper bass that took his white feather teaser. Then the good doctor was on with a keeper.

The fish were on the move so we followed them hopscotch style. When Frank hooked into a shorty bass, I signaled Billy to move close to him in a patch of deep water. Charlie and I worked the bar nearby.  Success for Billy.  He switched off his heavy bucktail and nailed a healthy keeper bass on a Kastmaster with white feather.  Charlie then took a bluefish.  Frank took a bluefish.  Oh yeah, I finally got my keeper: a 28-inch “runt” of the morning litter. Then I added a cocktail bluefish to the larder.  It was 7:40am and we had a cooler filled with four keeper bass and three cocktail blues. Not a bad morning’s haul.

A Fine Fat Fish: Harvey's 20-plus pounder

A fish call from Harvey Bennett alerted us to big  bass in Amagansett to our west. But a gill net crew was working the beach in between, so we didn’t venture forth. Harvey came to meet us and showed off his 20-pound plus cow.  A beauty.  It was proof that he fishes.  He shot a Mobile Tackle Shop video that you can see here. Pistol Packin’ Pete stopped to say hello.  As we gabbed, the tide dropped out and the fishing was done.

Fish cleaning toast: we drained the JW Blue Label

We quit at 930am ahead of schedule with plenty of time to clean and dress fish, polish off the last of the Johnny Walker Blue Label and mercifully clean my sand encrusted, mud splattered, fish stinking truck. Niece Gina filmed a down and dirty bass-filleting lesson. An Oktoberfest Bavarian lunch at Shippy’s Pumpernickel Tavern in Southampton prepped Dr. Charlie Boyz and me for the ride to JFK.

I was back to the world by 4pm and already plotting my poker strategy for next year. I gotta’ get back to night fishing just to save money.

For a full gallery of Capos Go Surfcasting 2010 photos, click here.

I finally managed to be in the right place at the right time

October 13, 2010

Striper Vigil: Sunrise at Turtle Cove and the wait begins

It was a waiting game. And it took an entire morning; nearly the whole tide. But skunked was not an option on my birthday. For two days, I fished east and west along the boulder strewn ocean beaches of Montauk Point with little to show for my efforts.  The fish abounded. But they were tough to second guess on location, and they were finicky feeders when found.

This day, however, I refused to be denied.  With hardly a stitch of food in the larder for an impending visit from the Brooklyn Red Hill Capos (see these links for Capos Go Surfcasting editions 2008 and 2009), I went all in at Turtle Cove at daybreak. A stiff and chilly north wind kicked up whitecaps off the Lighthouse jetty. But the sun rose strong and there was every reason to believe the fish would show up as they had each day for two solid weeks.  The only problem is where and when? Unusually, we didn’t have a predictable pattern of time, tide or location.  I logged my beach time. But other than Sunday, when John P. got his first ever keeper bass from the surf at King’s, I was in the wrong spot every time one of these tight balls of striped bass blitzed up. Turtle Cove, where the fish showed up the evening before, seemed as good a starting point as any.

By nine AM, virtually every other surfcaster using similar logic gave up and departed.  Instead of quitting, however, I moved west into the rocks at Brown’s. From there, with less glare off the water, I had a better viewpoint to watch the early signs of working birds and small feeding pods of fish entertaining the mosquito fleet  more than 500 yards off shore.

Birthday Bass: This 17-pound striper fell to a feathered teaser among the rocks

At 11am, the fish came in. It was the last hour of the rising tide. Just as the wind sat down, a very small pod boiled ever so briefly, and I was quick to a rock to cast to them.  I had on a Krocodile metal lure in case I needed distance, and a white feather teaser to mimic the tiny anchovies these fish were feeding on.  It took a few casts before I had the fish in front of me and even then, I pulled through them without a strike.  Suddenly, my rod quivered and then it bent hard. The line peeled and the drag whined as the bass struggled for freedom. I knew immediately I had a keeper. The question was: how big and could I steer it though the rocks without my line failing? In short order, other surfcasters appeared as if from thin air and I implored two of them not to cast across my line.  By the time my striper was in, the school was gone.  But they reemerged shortly, this time thicker, in a showy, white-water churning blitz. Still, there were very few hook ups among the scores of anglers now casting shoulder to shoulder.  A fly-roder landed a 26-inch fish and I scored another short schoolie, again on my teaser.

Even though the fish came and went for another 30-minutes, ever so slowly moving through the cove, I decided to call it a morning and humped my fish back to the parking lot. The morning tide topped out and the bass then disappeared.  My fish measured out at 34-inches and about 17 pounds.  If I had candles I would have decorated it.

The boulder fields of Montauk were hot hot hot with blitzes

October 10, 2010

Amagansett Sunset: Skunked on the sandy beaches

Walking to the edge of the bluff at Camp Hero shortly after daybreak, I spotted a thick pod of boiling stripers in the surf below.  I asked an observer standing nearby how long the fish were there and he said with a straight face: “about two weeks”. I had questioned the hour, but his answer was more to the point.  The bite had been strong since the last week in September and almost exclusively concentrated on Montauk’s south side.

I heard  rumors of fish on the sandy beaches of Amagnasett where Harvey B. and his trusty sidekick Sam D. were keeping the waters honest. Billy S. and I roamed the ocean beaches from Indian Wells to Ditch Plains without seeing a sign of life. Nonetheless, I caught Sam beaching a healthy 31-inch fish early Sunday morning at Napeague where he had been casting since just after the last pitch of the Yankee’s Wild Card victory over the Twins the night before.

Sam D. with a 31-inch keeper bass at Napeague

I didn’t linger on the beach but continued east to rendezvous with with Billy S. and Big Bob W. aboard Bob’s boat the Reel Attitude.

Whoa. What’s that? Did I just say boat? Indeed.  With some extraordinary weather at hand I couldn’t resist the invitation to see and experience my favorite fishing beaches looking in instead of out. Maybe, I thought, we’d get into the fish that were all too often out of beach range, corralled among the flotilla of fishermen asea.

The mosquito fleet surround a bass blitz in Turtle Cove

We started chasing birds and bluefish off Shagwong Point, rocking and rolling to a decent west northwest wind.  It was nothing the Reel Attitude couldn’t handle, thanks primarily to Big Bob. He is a superb helmsman focused  like a laser on safety and he got us into the fish numerous times. I brought two decent sized blues to the boat, one on my flyrod and another on a spinning outfit rigged with a small bucktail. Bob and Billy had equally good luck and the live well was soon stocked with a half dozen choppers. It was time to find some bass off Montauk Point.

Helmsman Big Bob: "no life threatening conditions"

First I made Bob promise me there would would no “life threating conditions”. That done, the Reel Attitude rounded the Point with ease and immediately joined the mosquito fleet surrounding blitzing fish at Turtle Cove. It used to be that squawking birds were the sure way to know where to fish.  Now, we just follow the flycasiting charters boats.  On this holiday weekend morning, the fleet literally outnumbered fisherman on the shore. Nose in, stern out, drifting sideways, and what have you, it was a skillful ballet of boatsmanship to find a position to cast to the white water blitzes of frenzied striped bass.  These fish were finicky feeders who were up and down, here than there, and not quick to take most offerings.  They were also pretty tight to the beach. We edged our way into the fray at Turtle Cove and the Sewer Pipe, Bob carefully maneuvering his 21-footer as close to shore as he dared without us turinging into a surfboard.

Billy S. nailed a 28-inch keeper aboard the Reel Attitude

It was just past high tide but the fish were blitzing as if tide didn’t matter.  Our challenge was to find a place to cast to these fish. Instead of competing, we decided to leave the fleet and find our own fish.  “Driftwood Cove to the west,” I suggested, based on some sage advice offered by Sam D.  Once there, were saw action developing at Caswell’s so Bob pointed took us one more cove to the west.  That’s where Billy S. got his keeper:  A frisky 28-inch bass that fell to  bucktail adorned with red and white pork rind.  For  another hour, we jockeyed in and out among the fleet—they found us and our fish soon enough. I envied as the fish were more times than not too close to the beach for us to reach.  As a surfcaster who usually laments the fish being too far out to reach, I suffered just punishment for going “boating”.

Bob took us in before the weather changed.  The wind was stiff from the north and we took a bone jarring hold-onto-your-hat ride home.  I turned right around in my truck and headed back to Montauk with my waders and surfrod. The fish were still there, though now they were out among the boats, beyond beach casting range.  But the bite, the holiday and the weather drew a huge crowd to the rocks in Brown’s and Turtle Cove.  The Camp Hero parking lot needed a valet and Turtle Cove was a ridiculous traffic jam of illegally parked SUVs. But there were blitzing fish everywhere.

Questioning the sanity of fishing in a boulder field

I dialed up John P. who was day tripping in East Hampton and urged him to join me in Montauk with his gear.  The fish wouldn’t be easy to catch but as an infrequent fall visitor, who more often has a 5-iron in his hand rather than a surfrod, it was time that John got religion.  By 4 pm, I had John wading into the boulder field of King’s, just west of the Sewer Pipe cove.  I could see from John’s knitted brow that he was questioning the sanity of this sortie. I can’t say I blamed him.

No sooner did we find some promising rocks to perch upon—right in front of the mammoth boulder known as “The Refrigerator”–the fish vanished from our range and resurfaced at Brown’s a quarter mile east.  They may as well have been in Portugal.  But we waited. Patiently. For almost an hour. Finally, we were rewarded. The pod of fish from Brown’s made its way to us. Meanwhile, another huge pod of pounding, feeding bass, converged from deeper water to the west.  These two schools collided directly in front of us in a spectacular feeding frenzy that washed in and out of our range with the now turning tide and mounting swells.

Waves wrinkled and blackened with feeding fish heaved towards us. John hooked a quality fish on a bucktail, but it dropped off just at his boots.  By now, we were surrounded by other casters, including one who swam to a rock directly in front of me. That meant that unless the fish came in between me and this Yahoo, I was cut off. But John managed one more striper and it turned out to be a legal beagle: 28 inches on the nose.

It was 530pm and our cell phones were ringing off the hook. John and I were due for dinner a half hour ago.  As we ascended the bluff, down came Mellie K. of Georgica. “Story of my life, she said. “A day late and a dollar…” she stopped in mid sentence when she saw the mayhem that continued all along the beach below. John and I departed with the bite still building toward crescendo. There was plenty left for Mel.

How about a sandwich on a rock at Montauk Point?

OCT. 7, 2010: Hi Fred: By way of introduction, happily I am MDC’s father-in-law. I have been following you for sometime now and I have really enjoyed your comments and observations. I have drowned a few worms myself. I will be in Montauk, tomorrow, Oct. 7, and would like to take you to lunch. Thank you, best wishes. Carl G.

Dear  Carl:

Thanks for the invitation. It would’ve been a pleasure sit down and get acquainted at John’s Pancake House. However, the bite was on real good this week and I was fortunate enough to have a two mid-week days to take advantage of the fine weather and the good fishing. Best not to leave the beach all things considered.  I’m sure you’d agree.

Stripers blitzed the rocks at Brown's; October surf fishing is heating up in Montauk

Fish were blitzing everywhere around the point on Wednesday.  I slept in and missed the dawn action on the northside. But the fish were just getting warmed up on the  ocean side when I got there mid-morning for the outgoing tide. I spent virtually the entire day at Turtle Cove where the fish blitzed in and out, back and forth, between Brown’s and the Lighthouse jetty. Brought my lunch, you know. There was a short lull at the tide change and then it started up again even hotter.  At one point in the afternoon, the stripers were at our feet. A few keeper bass were taken from the blitz. But more times than not, aggresive bluefish were quicker to the lure.  The lazy stripers were content to inhale spearing and even smaller bay anchovies: the tiny white or rain bait beneath the voracious blues. I wound up with six decent sized choppers for the cooler.

I was back early on Thursday. But the morning did not produce.  In the afternoon, after I ran into you on the street in Montauk—was that an amazing coincidence, or what?—I was mesmerized by wild striper blitzes off the Lighthouse and Scott’s Cove. The fish were out of surfcasting range, but they kept the mosquito fleet of fly-casting boats real happy. I waited in vain for a repeat of the prior day’s action in TC. Finally, I succumbed to the hike to Brown’s, mounted a rock and managed one 26-inch striper on a bucktail from my slimy perch.  Blitzes came and went but the fish were very finicky.  Poppers and tins pulled right through, bouncing off fish with nary a bite.  The longest casters hurled bucktails and banged fish in a slow but steady pick until sundown.  October is humming.

Should you come back to Montauk, be sure to let me know.  We’ll take a few sandwiches down to Turtle Cove, North Bar or wherever the fish decide to show.

Best Regards,

Fred

PS: Thanks for the book, Striper Chronicles.