Ancient Greeks believed the sun god Helios, offspring of Hyperion and Theia, crossed the heavens every day in a burning chariot. With our modern sensibilities, we snicker and guffaw at our simple-minded forebears for ascribing deity status to a sky-crossing orb of flame. Oh, the naivety!

Actually, a significant cohort exists among south Louisiana anglers who rival the early Grecians in their love, worship and adoration for the almighty Helios. These are the guys who push their boats and motors to the absolute limits to access glorified mud puddles deep in the Louisiana marsh, places that seem inaccessible and entirely too shallow to support any fish bigger than a bluegill.

But somehow, these backwaters — colloquially referred to as “duck ponds” — are exactly where thick-bodied redfish want to be, engaging in a Sisyphean quest to fill their bottomless bellies. The duck ponds are an all-you-can-eat buffet of crabs, shrimp, killifish and finger mullet, and the reds push into them in numbers from one to hundreds and absolutely terrorize the local baitfish population.

Sight Fishing for Louisiana’s Redfish

In these backwater ponds, which are often filtered by submerged aquatic vegetation, water clarity can range from gin-clear to tannic, and the redfish in them glow like stop signs — but only when the sun’s out. In fact, under a cloudless sky, the fish are so easy to spot, shallow-water anglers won’t even make a blind cast. I mean, what’s the point? They’ll simply pole around in the really shallow stuff or use a trolling motor in water that’s deep enough for it, and scan the water through polarized sunglasses, searching for the fish. Baits dangle patiently at the ends of rods, eagerly awaiting the moment a fish is spotted and they can fulfill their purpose.

Accurate casts are absolutely critical, and placement depends entirely on the demeanor and angle of the fish. Generally, an angler wants to cast past the red at a trajectory that will allow the lure to be retrieved a couple feet ahead of the fish. On some days, it’s best to drop the lure when the fish first sees it, and on others, bites are triggered when the angler plays keep away with the lure. Bites are intense, as the clear water allows every aspect of the take to be witnessed — the charging at the bait, the flaring of the gills and the vanishing of the lure as it’s sucked, along with the water around it, into the gaping maw of a hungry redfish.

Then the fights are the ultimate in intensity. Hook a redfish in a deep bayou, and it will head immediately for the bottom, trying to pull you, your rod and your boat down with it. But in the shallows, that’s not an option, so the fish strips as much line as it can on its first run, and then circles the boat like a distance runner on an Olympic track. That’s especially true with fish that locals call “overs” — redfish that stretch beyond the 27-inch maximum size limit.

Oversize Redfish in the Marsh

Biologists say that’s right around the size that redfish mature sexually and get the urge to move out to the Gulf to spawn. But many are late-bloomers that seem stuck in perpetual adolescence and refuse to put on their big-boy pants. Sometimes fish up to 35 inches are encountered in the ponds.

Regardless of size, these shallow, clear-water fish are the prettiest seen anywhere. Like chameleons, their skin changes color to suit their environment. Deep-water or dirty-water reds will be silver in color, with dark-bronze or brown backs, but in the shallows, the fish are bright orange, with the rich color often extending all the way around their normally white bellies.

This trait obviously gives them some camouflage advantage when targeting prey, but it completely betrays them when they themselves are the prey. Even Ray Charles could spot them. But only when the sun’s out. On cloudy days, the fish are nearly impossible to see, and lots of blind casts are necessary for success. It’s still fun and productive, but there’s nothing like casting to a fish you see and watching it suck in a lure. That’s why shallow-water redfish anglers are strict adherents to a religion, and Helios is their god.

The post Sight Fishing Louisiana’s Duck Ponds appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

I eyed a spot at the southwestern tip of the Cameron, Louisiana, jetties and made a cast. My lipless crankbait hit the water.

As the lure sank, I began my normal seven-count before making the first pull. I stopped at three. It felt as if the lure had hit a rock and got stuck, so I set the hook — just in case.

The rod immediately doubled over, the drag screamed, and for the next 15 minutes, a super-sized redfish put my muscles and tackle to the test.

Catching redfish is fun. Catching big redfish is really fun. And one of the best ways to do that in early fall is with crankbaits at jetties.

Gearing Up for Fishing Crankbaits

Endless varieties of crankbaits flood the market, especially for bass fishing, but the most effective crankbaits for redfish are lipless.

As the name implies, these lures feature no protruding lip, a characteristic that allows this kind of bait to be fished at specific depths. Lipless versions can be more versatile because the angler essentially controls the fishing depth.

Rat-L-Trap has long led the industry, but my favorite is the Super Pogy by Bomber Saltwater Grade. It comes with a high-pitch rattle that I’ve found effective. Other options include the Nobondo Lipless Crankbait, Nomad Design Madscad and Biospawn Rattle Bot.

Best colors include chrome, white/black, chrome/pink, and bronze. I use a casting reel rigged with a 30-pound green P-line braid tied directly to the lure because I fish in dingy water. In clear water, add a 36-inch fluorocarbon leader if needed.

I like a medium-heavy action, 7 1/2-foot rod but have a particular preference for its composition. I learned about this while fishing over the years with four-time Bassmaster Classic champion and living legend Rick Clunn.

Super-sensitive rods actually work against you when fishing with crankbaits, Clunn told me. A fish actually pushes the lure in pursuit; if you’re fishing a super-sensitive (graphite/composite) rod, you’ll set the hook before the fish actually has the lure.

Clunn collaborated with Wright & McGill a few years back to create the S-Glass Series of rods that incorporate traditional fiberglass technology with a modern flare. I use these rods for crankbaits and have had serious success everywhere from the Mississippi River near Venice, La., to the Cameron jetties.

With glass rods, I have had far more hookups than misses because I can’t feel the bite until the fish takes the lure. You’ll find numerous fiberglass crankbait rods on the market, and they can make a massive difference in the pursuit of redfish.

Location and Technique

Around the jetties, start fishing near the boat cuts [Ed’s note: Texas jetties feature breaks in the rock wall about halfway out that allow small boats through] to take advantage of reds foraging on baitfish moving between the channel and Gulf side of the jetty rocks. “You get shrimp, shad and crabs pushing through, and the reds will move in and feed,” says veteran jetty angler Bill Killian.

Anchor up-current of the cut and work the lure against the flow. “Throw it out toward the cut, let it sink a few seconds, and then reel it in as fast as you can. The pressure of the current will allow the rattles to work really well,” he says.

Also look for jetty reds in the deep holes usually found around the southern tip of the rocks and northward about 50 yards. At these spots, the current wraps around the jetty structure and carves out large holes. Reds congregate around large boulders that have fallen off the main wall into these holes.

Read Next: More Redfish Fishing Tips

Throw out the crankbait, let it sink to the level of the rocks, and rip it. I pull a few feet and then reel a couple of cranks. Repeat that three or four times and recast. The reds usually hit just after the first pull and sometimes on the fall.

While it might sound counterintuitive, if you see dolphins feeding in the area, that’s a fortunate sign.

In my logbook, I’ve noted dolphins feeding in the vicinity every time I’ve caught lots of bull reds. The times we had fewer fish, I saw no dolphins feeding. The presence of dolphins often indicates menhaden, a primary forage species for big reds.

Releasing for the Future

As everything from algae blooms to bycatch in the menhaden fishery puts pressure on redfish populations, catch-and-release becomes increasingly important — particularly for the big, breeding-size reds that inhabit jetty systems.

Scientists say the discard mortality rate for all sizes of redfish averages around 8 percent, though the type of terminal tackle used plays a major role. In general, lures deep-hook fewer fish than J-hooked natural baits.

In fact, one fish Killian caught at a nearshore gas platform off the Sabine Pass, which I tagged for Texas Sea Grant, made a reappearance three weeks later two miles away at the Sabine jetties. As the super fat bull redfish surfaced, Killian netted it. We quickly noticed a tag covered with slime.

I removed the growth, and my heart raced as I realized the tag said Sea Grant.

After examining our data, we realized it was the same fish Killian caught a few weeks before. It taught me firsthand that releasing big fish pays off, and I will carry that and deep respect for these bulls with me for the rest of my life.

The post Fishing Crankbaits for Gulf Jetty Redfish appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Sunup at Ferry Beach, near Scarborough, Maine, had us excited to catch striped bass. The Scarborough, Nonesuch and Libby rivers dump into the Gulf of Maine, and that’s where we wanted to be as the sun popped above the horizon. Summer warmth kept us comfortable as we launched our kayaks and headed toward the pass.

Nearby, we heard a huge splash from a mystery fish that no one was able to get eyes on. The whole group turned toward the sound. “Probably a sturgeon,” guessed nearby kayak angler Daniel McFetridge, Old Town kayaks’ e-commerce and digital marketing manager.

Fighting an incoming tide, most of us were using the ePDL+ drive that propels Old Town kayaks via a lithium battery. Of course, anglers can assist and pedal with their feet for extra power. Ryan Lilly, marketing director at Old Town, was the first one to the spot which was chock-full of underwater boulders and feeding stripers.

A strong incoming tide made the area really hard to fish. We had to hold position in the cut and make pinpoint casts. A kayak with a spot-lock trolling motor might have been able to handle it, if the motor was strong enough to stay in position in the heavy current. Maine regularly experiences 8-foot tides, with little slack tide between the rising and the falling.

With his ePDL+ nearly at full power, Lilly locked his rudder steering in place to slice into the current. He was then able to stand up and make long casts close to shore. Prospecting with a topwater, Lilly hooked up on his third toss. And then a couple casts later.

The rest of us couldn’t replicate what he was doing. Some of us didn’t quite have the battery power to fight the current, which then required us to pedal sitting down. And sitting down meant we didn’t have enough casting distance to reach the fish. I didn’t risk moving closer to the fish, fearing I might run into submerged boulders. Soon the tide began to slow, the bite shut down, and Atlantic sturgeon were jumping around us so frequently I thought I’d become a pancake.

It was one of the most unique ways I’ve seen someone stand and fish from a kayak. Lilly obviously had experience standing in a kayak, which is necessary to fish an inlet. But I never thought I’d see standing — not sitting — kayak anglers fishing inlets and jetty rocks during a roaring tide. The experience made me think of two other instances on that recent summer trip to Maine when standing in a kayak was better than just sitting.

The Path Forward

On the backside of an island in Casco Bay, Maine, we dissected a shoreline in a way that any veteran Bassmaster would appreciate. Joe Albanese, editor in chief at Wired2Fish, and I cast plugs, Z-Mans and Slug-Gos at fishy-looking grass edges and rocky shorelines in the lee of the island.

We stood in our Old Town Sportsman BigWater kayaks, recognizing the higher elevation was a huge asset in this type of fishing. In the background, gray storm clouds blew up like popcorn near the Sandy Point Bridge. We needed every bit of sunlight and height to find the spots we wanted to land our lures. Albanese struck pay dirt first when he landed a striper off some vegetation. The striped bass were definitely selective in the heart of the afternoon.

Here’s how I handled it:

1. Standing in the 3-foot-wide kayak wasn’t a problem. Most wide kayaks with a wide-flat hull are plenty stable to stand up in. Standing is more of a confidence issue than anything. When you trust your footing, you don’t overcompensate and cause problems. Utilize a wide stance and loose knees to ride the swells, just like in a bigger boat. I’ve fished a ton in kayaks; be wary of kayaks that are too long-and-skinny or seemingly too lightweight for their size. Those are the ones most likely to dump you in the water while standing.
2. Next, I set the ePDL+ drive on its lowest setting to slowly creep along the shoreline. Every once in a while, I had to make an adjustment to my course, but it was as simple as making a rudder correction with the hand knob.
3. Finally, the other key element was skip casting. This was not as technical as casting underneath mangroves or docks, but I still used that underhand motion to land lures close to structure without making a huge splash. Executing a skip cast while sitting in a kayak isn’t easy.

Later that day, fishing a different part of the same island, we had success casting topwaters at a sandy beach and nearby shallow-water point. Out in open water, it was much less about precision casting — instead we were fan-casting a general area, looking for bait school marks on the side-scan sonar. Of course, we were standing and stretching our legs while casting.

In the Marsh

Sneaking back into the marsh was a blast. A certain type of angler from Texas to Maine really digs exploring a maze of shallow waters in search of surprisingly large gamefish. I’m that type of angler. Ideally, kayakers should allow a flood tide to push them into the labyrinth. But first, always make a stop at the entrance. That’s what we did and landed a couple striped bass off a flat. I let the current and wind drift me along a fishy stretch to maximize fishing time. 

Then it was onto the creeks. We had a short window — as we were fishing the outgoing tide — before the water left the creeks entirely. I had luck with an oversize Z-Man DieZel Minnow soft plastic. It looked like a hearty baitfish, or maybe an eel. And I didn’t have to sit down to re-rig or retie. Just grab what you need and pop right back up. Even releasing smaller striped bass was easy while standing.

The exploration was productive. Standing in a kayak in the marsh allowed me to see what was coming next, such as a creek mouth, island or shallow flat. In many cases, we were able to look over the marsh banks and reeds to prep for the next cast, which is something you just can’t do while sitting. With the water dropping, stripers were exiting quickly in the deepest water they could find. We had to lift up our pedal drives to float out, paddling over the shallowest points.  

Standing in a kayak takes getting used to, but most anglers become comfortable quickly. Start with a quality kayak in shallow water, and work your way up. Soon enough you’ll be fishing moving water in passes and inlets with the best of them.

The post A Balancing Act appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

I had just cracked open a drink when the fish came up. I set the brew on the bait tank, buckled in as a tuna slurped the bait, lifted the 80-wide Tiagra out of the holder and went to work. My beer was still ice cold when we gaffed the 192-pound yellowfin.

That short, effective fight depended on the 200-pound Seaguar fluorocarbon leader, 40 pounds of drag and a true winch of a reel. But the gear doesn’t matter if you don’t use it right, and that means using its power to hurt tuna instead of yourself. I’m a big guy and I’ve caught hundreds of tuna over 100 pounds, but size doesn’t matter. I’ve seen little old ladies use the right techniques and catch fish much bigger than I ever have. My friend caught a 300-pound yellowfin on stand-up gear when he was 78.

Use a Harness and Pad to Fight Big Tuna

The key is a good harness and pad, and the ability to use it. One of my favorites is from AFTCO, designed by Greg Stotesbury. Stotesbury’s stand-up experience, like mine, is grounded in the San Diego long-range fleet. No offense, East Coasters, but most of you don’t know how to use a harness. Here’s how it works.

If you learn anything here it should be this: When fighting a fish, you should feel all the force transferred by the harness from the point of your hips down. You want the belt around your butt, not the small of your back.

In preparation, wear the harness before the bite. Wait until the fish is solidly hooked and pulling drag before you put the rod in the belt and clip in. Many fish are lost early when folks fumble with their gear instead of fighting the fish. Once you are fastened to the fish, attitude is everything. Stay calm and relaxed. Don’t let adrenaline and bad form hurt you.

How to Fight Tuna in a Fishing Harness

Proper form means good posture: Put your left hand on the reel to guide the line, with your right hand on the handle. Keep your back straight, and bend your knees enough to distribute the pressure across the tops of your quads and your backside.

Modern composite rods do all the work when kept at right angles to the rail. When the tip comes up, wind it back down. If you can’t turn the handle, switch the reel to low speed. Can’t keep up? Go to high speed. Don’t impart wild pumping motions. Instead, focus on the rod tip. Call out deep color when you see it, and wind the fish up to the gaff.

Safety Tips for Fighting Big Tunas

A couple of safety notes should be added. Every tuna is an individual, and where the hook ends up influences how the fish acts. Yellowfin tuna hooked in the upper jaw by the snout are notoriously squirrelly. You have to be prepared to react to the predictable and unpredictable, and that often means getting out of the harness.

Use S-hooks instead of clips to attach the harness to the reel lugs so you can get out quickly if necessary. And remember to back off the drag ­(gradually, don’t dump it into free-spool) when you need to get the rod out of the gimbal pad for maneuvers such as keeping the line out of the props.

How to Gain Line When Fighting Big Tuna

When you sit back and put on a lot of pressure, a fish will often run out high in the water column. Enjoy the fact that now the fish is on the losing end of the energy equation. This is the only time you can take a breather. When the fish stops, bear down on it. Try to get a turn on the handle, going to low gear if necessary.

Tuna will often respond to the ­pressure by diving in the direction of the boat, which provides you the opportunity to win back a bunch of line with no more effort than turning the handle. Be ready to go into high gear when the fish sounds, and take that easy line.

Once the fish goes into the final stage of the fight — straight up and down — it’s time to really put on the heat. Stay in one spot and keep the rod straight out from the rail. The tuna’s tail beats are reflected in the pumps of the rod tip as the fish circles — the more pressure, the tighter the circle. The tip of the rod will come up as the fish leaves the inside (closest to the boat) of the circle. That’s when you get those precious feet of line with several quick turns of the handle to bring the tip back down and keep the fish moving up. Don’t waste energy by stubbornly trying to turn the handle when you stop gaining line.

Most important, stay relaxed so you reserve the burst of energy and sharpness of mind that is usually called for at the end of the fight. Sometimes, a truly mean fish will say to hell with this and bust a big move. The telltale is an irritated shake of the head. You have to be ready to respond and follow. It’s usually over soon after that — one way or another.

The post Tuna Fishing with Stand Up Gear appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

People who complain that South Florida doesn’t enjoy a change of seasons don’t fish the annual fall mullet run.

To anglers from Stuart to Key Largo, nothing signals that fall has arrived like the migration of these baitfish. Silver and black mullet move south in enormous schools along the Atlantic coast, all the while dodging a host of predators such as snook, tarpon, jacks, sharks, Spanish mackerel and bluefish. October marks the prime time to fish the mullet run, both offshore and inshore.

The Live-Bait Game Plan

Anglers never know what they might catch from one cast to the next. They don’t even need live mullet to catch the gamefish species. Half a mullet, topwater plugs, spoons, and soft-plastic bait imitations can be as effective if not more.

Capt. Chris Murray, of Stuart, usually nets several dozen mullet wherever he sees the baitfish pushing water. After catching bait, he cruises around until he spots another mullet school. Then he closely watches to see what the baitfish are doing and what’s feeding on them.

Tarpon often jump completely out of the water, then come crashing back into the middle of the school. Snook hang below the school and suck in mullet with an audible pop. Jacks charge into the school and send mullet flying.

Murray likes to fish live mullet on a 7-foot, light- to medium-action spinning rod with a 4000-size reel spooled with 20-pound braided line. He usually attaches a 40-pound fluorocarbon leader with a 3/0 circle hook and clips an indicator float to the leader, which allows him and his anglers to keep track of the bait.

“I vary my leaders. I like to actually start lighter,” Murray says. “Normally I rig up two that are 25-pound, two that are 30, two that are 40. When I know what kind of fish are there and what kind of heat I have to put on them, normally 40. If they’re short snook, 25 or 30 is fine.”

When drifting or slow-trolling, he hooks a mullet through the upper lip and casts it to the edge of a submerged oyster bar, which snook, tarpon and other species use as ambush spots. Murray then opens the bail of the reel and slowly lets out line.

Jacks Are Wild

On one trip I took in the St. Lucie River with Murray and Anthony Javarone, we cast out, and moments later I felt my mullet get very nervous. Suddenly violent splashes erupted, and whatever had scared my mullet nailed Javarone’s bait.

Following Murray’s instruction to let the fish swim for a few seconds before closing the bail and reeling tight, Javarone hooked up to what turned out to be a 15-pound jack. The fish took Javarone from one end of Murray’s bay boat to the other before it finally tired.

“Those big jacks are great practice for people who want snook and tarpon,” Murray says. “They’re a guide’s best friend. They just give you every chance to develop your rhythm.”

When jacks, tarpon and Spanish mackerel successfully raid the schools for a meal, they often stun and maim a few of the baits, which fall to the sea floor. That’s when fishing a mullet head on the bottom can be extremely effective.

Snook on Artificials

Fishing around the rocks at the mouth of Stuart’s St. Lucie Inlet, Capt. Greg Snyder uses a D.O.A. plastic shrimp to catch all sizes of snook. He fishes the shrimp on a spinning outfit with 30-pound braided line and a 40-pound fluorocarbon leader.

“They use the rocks as a trap,” Snyder says of the snook. “The bait hits the rocks and gets confused, and the snook take advantage of it.”

Let the shrimp drift with the current and be aware of any taps or hesitation in the drift, because that means a snook has taken the lure. “Let the tide do the work, and keep in contact with the shrimp,” he says, “because you need to be able to set the hook when they eat.”

Why would a snook eat a shrimp when mullet are abundant? I posed that question to D.O.A. luremaker Mark Nichols. “During the first of the mullet run, the fish are all over the mullet,” he says. “But after three weeks of eating mullet, they’re ready for something different.”

I witnessed that fishing with Nichols in the north fork of the St. Lucie River on the last half of a falling tide. His flats skiff was surrounded by mullet and rolling tarpon, but after we threw some D.O.A. soft-plastic mullet imitations such as a Bait Buster and a TerrorEyz without a bite, Nichols switched us to D.O.A. glow shrimp.

Standing at the front of the boat, we waited until a tarpon rolled within casting distance. Then we cast the shrimp just ahead of the tarpon. Instead of steadily twitching the shrimp back to the boat, Nichols advises working it slowly.

“You want the shrimp to go down,” he says. “Then snap the rod and jerk the shrimp sharply, but don’t crank the reel and move the shrimp away. You want it to stay right where the fish was.”

Picture it in these terms: Here’s a shrimp, slowly sinking in the water. Suddenly it jumps up, then sinks right back down. The next time it jumps, thinking it might get away, the tarpon eats it. Using that technique, Nichols and I enjoyed about two dozen tarpon bites.

“I think it’s just easy for them to eat a shrimp,” he says. “They have to work hard to catch a mullet. It doesn’t take anything for them to catch a shrimp.”

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Two other advantages of fishing an artificial shrimp around a mullet school: Bait stealers don’t peck at a plastic shrimp like they do a live shrimp, and Nichols can fish his shrimp exactly how he wants.

To make a D.O.A. shrimp more appealing to a fish keying on a school of mullet, Nichols fishes it below the school or on the edge of the school. That makes the shrimp look vulnerable, which makes it an easy target.

“If you’re not catching fish with a shrimp, you’re fishing it too fast,” Nichols says. “No matter how slowly you think you’re fishing it, fish it slower.”

The post Fishing Florida’s Fall Mullet Run appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Leave the micro-skiff at home and keep the light-tackle outfits in the garage. If you want to catch bull redfish, think deep water and make sure to bring out the big guns.

The differences between adult and puppy red drum are so vast, you might as well treat the two like different animals. You’ll need to if you want to catch bull reds. Adult redfish lose their endearing adolescent spots, replaced with armor for scales and a caricature mouth only a carp could love. Their demeanor is bullish, using current and mass to fight down-and-dirty. And their meat turns from refined to tough, mirroring their aggressive mentality.

Bull redfish are the “big uglies” TV football commentators always talk about. Although “big ugly” is truly a nickname for a different drum — the black drum. Want to know how to catch these red drum? Conquering them requires sound technique, strength, specialized tactics and a keen eye. Learn how some of the best bull-beaters in the biz stay on top of their game.

Where to Catch Bull Redfish

Bull redfish inhabit waters from Chesapeake Bay through the Gulf of Mexico, making this illustrious species readily available to huge numbers of anglers. Their pervasiveness is outstanding but requires anglers to understand local population habits.

In the Chesapeake, May through September is the optimal time to target big reds in nearshore waters. Giant reds school up in spring outside Hatteras and Ocracoke inlets before moving into Pamlico Sound for the summer spawning season. In fall, those same reds leave en masse and stay along the beaches until water temperatures plummet, pushing them offshore for winter. The Cape Lookout fall run lasts into December and sometimes all through a mild winter.

In Florida, northeast bull redfish start spawning in deeper sections of the St. Johns River during the first big moon in August. In the Gulf, Tampa anglers head to deeper waters near Fort Desoto, off St. Pete, next to the Skyway Bridge and near Egmont Key in fall and early spring. Florida Panhandle action starts right around Halloween and lasts all the way to February, with the most productive time in November and December near the beaches. These large schools of redfish can even be found off the coast of Louisiana and Texas, and range from 500 to 5,000 fish.

Your fishing location will dictate the season to fish, but once you’ve figured out when, and a general where, the task turns to locating the red drum schools.

Find the Hot Spot for Bull Redfish

Locating bull redfish can be difficult, so consider every tool in your arsenal.

“Sometimes I’ll look for indicator species such as cownose rays to lead me to schools of redfish,” says Capt. Tyler Nonn, of Chesapeake Bay, Virginia. “After the fish move out of their early-season patterns, anglers can bottomfish outside the inlets, shoals and ledges in up to 50 feet of water.”

Concentrations of menhaden near drop-offs and ledges of a shoal are a good sign to look for on your bottom machine, especially at the mouth of the Chesapeake. Later in the year, fish can be marked on bottom machines under and around schools of small bluefish or spinner sharks.

“Red drum have a very unique ­signature, much like amberjack,” says Capt. Brian Horsley, of Oregon Inlet, North Carolina. “They will show on your bottom machine as layers, and sometimes they’ll mark diagonally. Deep reds are difficult to target; most anglers actually find them while fishing for something else.”

I had my first run-in with Panama City Beach bull redsyears ago during a paddle-craft media event. Only a few of us had ever fished off the beaches in kayaks, and we were content to target red snapper and groupers with metal flutter jigs. After gathering over good marks on the bottom machine, we dropped down quickly to see what was there. To our surprise, all three of us soon landed 20-plus-pound red drum. That’s when I learned that if you can find the reds bunched up, they’ll eat just about anything.

Redfish in the Panhandle and Tampa areas start to show in strong numbers only when the water temperatures hit the mid-60s, says Capt. John Rivers, who’s fished both areas extensively but now guides in Tampa.

“One easy way to find bull reds is to look for birds diving on the large schools of baitfish that the redfish have pushed to the surface,” says Rivers. “Another way is to have a reliable bottom machine with side imaging that can mark fish when there’s no surface activity.”

In Jacksonville, Capt. Kirk Waltz searches the mouth of the St. Johns River as far upriver as EverBank Field (home of the Jaguars) downtown.

“I begin my search by watching the bottom recorder for distinct breaks on the edges of deep water adjacent to the shipping channel,” says Waltz. “These bottom-contour changes look almost like offshore ledges but can also be sloping drops from deep to shallow water.”

Waltz believes the reds use ledges to block current to conserve energy but also to provide ambush spots as bait washes overhead. Most of these spots are from 29 to 46 feet deep.

Best Lures and Baits for Bull Redfish

Your redfish tackle can make all the difference. The closest thing to a guaranteed bite, especially after locating fish, is to bait with fresh bunker or blue crab on the bottom. Terminal tackle is a simple three-way swivel system — the same rig many anglers use to bottomfish offshore — using 60- to 80-pound ­fluorocarbon, a 5/0 to 7/0 circle hook and a loop to interchange bank sinkers from 6 to 10 ounces.

“I like fresh blue crabs, mullet, pogies or ladyfish chunks,” says Waltz. “Chumming can be very effective. I like to find a spot and deploy four rods using two different baits to see what their preference is. A good soak of 15 to 30 minutes is preferred to allow the scent track to feed back in a light current.”

For the best redfish lures, captains Horsley and Rivers both prefer bucktails ranging from 1 to 8 ounces. “When they are schooled up, they are not too smart and will eat just about anything in their face,” jokes Horsley. Rivers dresses his bucktails with plastics. “I’ll use a 1½-ounce Spro bucktail jig in white, pink or chartreuse with a 4-inch soft-plastic tail,” he says. “Some guys use a plain 1-ounce jig rigged with a 7-inch curly tail.”

What’s the best bull redfish rod and reel? A 7-foot heavy-action rod paired with a 6,000-plus-class spinning reel, spooled with 50-plus-pound braid, is a great setup for any situation in which an angler will encounter bull redfish. Nonn prefers Shimano reels with PowerPro braid, while Waltz uses Penn reels with Berkley braid.

“If the fish are finicky and won’t touch jigs or dead bait, cast out a live bait rigged on a 3/0 circle hook and 40-pound fluoro,” says Rivers. “The [minimalistic] rig catches fish when nothing else will around Tampa Bay.”

Topwater Lures for Bull Redfish

When conditions are right, large schools of reds will hang at the surface in deep water. Each captain I spoke with encountered this behavior, so it’s not location specific.

“When an angler finds an aggregation on top, it’s best to pick off fish from outskirts of the school and try to keep the boat away to avoid putting them down,” says Capt. Tyler Nonn. “Doubles and triples are real possibilities.”

Nonn will cast large soft plastics, such as Hogy Lures, while Horsley and Rivers prefer to work loud surface poppers. “As long as the birds aren’t diving around the large schools, it’s a blast to watch reds fight over and try to smash your plug,” says Rivers.

One sign that bull redfish are around but not necessarily at the surface is the presence of mud balls.

“Reds are famous for attacking schools of bait on the bottom during the spring, and are easily detected by the huge muds under the bait pods,” says Capt. Kirk Waltz. “Catch a few baits from the edges of these schools, and flip them back into the mud balls for quick hookups.”

The post Fishing for Bull Redfish appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

In the early 1990s I got my first look.

The wind honked out of the north on the first chilly day in September. It just felt fishy.

Running toward the birds, I thought at first the boils were stripers. But when the fish came up, I knew this was something different: Streamlined muscular fish with green backs slashed through baitballs at an ungodly speed.

Composure lost, heart pounding, adrenaline level through the roof, I made several casts, which went unnoticed. About an hour and 30 casts later, I finally came tight, and it felt unreal. Line peeled off the reel so fast I didn’t know what to do. I cranked down the drag a quarter turn and the reel literally blew up, falling to pieces on the ground.

Didn’t matter. I was hooked. This was well beyond anything I had experienced before. Straight-up tuna inshore. Mind blown.

False Albacore Allure

I am not alone. All along the coast, false albacore (technically, little tunny — also known as albies, bonito, fat albert, hardtails and funny fish) have been blowing inshore anglers’ minds, particularly those light-tackle advocates who favor sight-casting rather than trolling or bait fishing.

“They’ve developed a steady following up here,” notes Capt. Paul Dixon, of Montauk, New York. “We’ve got a fleet that thrives on their arrival every fall.”

That’s because they’re what many hardcore light-tackle anglers describe as the perfect quarry, offering an often awesome visual surface feed, a high but not impossibly high level of difficulty, and drag-burning runs that create instant memories. And for fly-fishers? Rarely do you catch one that doesn’t bring you into backing almost instantly.

“The visual element is unique,” notes Capt. Ian Devlin, of Connecticut, who characterizes albies as ram-induction feeders (consistent with tunas). They don’t just chase bait, they tear through it. “It’s a quick, spectacular burst and then they’re gone, and you’ve got to get up and run after the next pod.”

“It’s definitely about the hunt … the chase,” says Capt. Gene Quigley, of New Jersey. “That’s what makes it exciting.”

But albie fishing is more than just the high-adrenaline run‑and-gun. “My favorite part is seeing the look on a guy’s face when he first hooks up,” notes Capt. Doug Jowett, of Cape Cod. “These fish just go and go.”

The visual element is unique. It’s a quick, spectacular burst and then they’re gone, and you’ve got to get up and run after the next pod.

— Capt. Ian Devlin

“What we’re talking about here is access to a strong, fast pelagic,” says Dixon. “A straight‑up tuna, sometimes a stone’s throw from the beach.” And they can be caught with fairly light gear, including flies. In that context, the albie run is pretty extraordinary.

“They are challenging,” notes Capt. Brian Horsley, of North Carolina. Albies are notorious for being very finicky and boat shy. “Sometimes we fish ’em all day and only catch a few.” Indeed, you have to make good, fast casts under pressure. That takes skill and composure — of course, that’s part of the albie draw.

Because the schools ­generally show up around the same time and places each year, the anticipation builds. Anglers gear up in advance. And when the first albies show, word spreads like wildfire.

When and Where to Target the Fish

While false albacore certainly don’t generate the avid following in Florida that they enjoy in the mid-Atlantic and southern New England, the fish do swarm the Sunshine State during late spring and summer.

“The southeast wind brings them in,” says Capt. Dino Torino, of Jupiter, Florida. “We have them from late May through August.” It’s a different fishery, though: no running and gunning, or chasing fish. “You stay put, and chum them up.”

In southern New England and the northern mid-Atlantic, where undoubtedly most of the targeting occurs, albies can be found 20 to 40 miles offshore, in depths of about 180 feet, pretty much any time from June on, mixed in with other pelagics, such as skipjack, bluefin and yellowfin. Inshore — within a mile of the beach and in harbors and bays — they’re most certainly a fall-run fish.

“We catch a few in Nags Head [Outer Banks, North Carolina], in August,” says Horsley. “But we don’t really focus on them until they show in September off of Harkers Island [farther south, near Morehead City].”

These smaller fish, in the 5-pound range, generally appear right near the beach. As October approaches, bigger fish mix in. “November is when the real biggies show. … All fish over 18 pounds,” he says.

Moving north: Although albies are caught off Virginia, Maryland and Delaware, for some reason they don’t set up there, and thus few anglers focus on them. The fish anglers do encounter don’t seem to stay long, and are likely just passing through.

From central to northern New Jersey, the fish consistently set up, and that’s where anglers really start targeting them. “We have fish offshore a bit, on the lumps earlier,” says Quigley. “But inshore it usually happens in September, although it seems to be happening later and later every year.”

“November is when the real biggies show. … All fish over 18 pounds.”

— Capt. Brian Horsley

Off the Long Island side of New York Harbor, the migration appears similar. Ten years ago, a first run of fish might occur off Breezy Point, New York, in late August, and the numbers would escalate into September. But now, the fishery doesn’t seem to get going until October. “We’ve actually had pretty good runs in early November these last few years,” says New York Harbor Capt. Danny Reich.

Albies show up intermittently along Long Island’s south shore, but it’s really that area from Long Branch, New Jersey, to Breezy Point, New York, and inside New York Harbor that tends to hold the best concentrations of fish in the region.

Out east, false albacore tend to set up in some pretty specific locations. Shinnecock Inlet, New York, is a well-known albie spot, particularly for those fishing from the jetty.

And then there’s Montauk, possibly the best albie spot on the coast. They show up, sometimes in spectacular numbers, off of Montauk Point Lighthouse, and can be found crashing through bay anchovies at any point all the way west to town.

“Usually, someone sees them off of the point in August,” says Dixon. “But once September rolls around, they fill in and can be found in pretty good numbers all the way back to Plum Island.”

The North Fork of Long Island sees a good run too, and the entire Rhode Island and Connecticut coastlines host albies at some point. Cape Cod seems to be the northern version of Montauk, although less consistent. And we can’t leave out the fish that show off Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket in September.

Fall Live Bait Blitz

Where the albies show varies some year to year, but captains agree that bait generally drives the congregations.

Albies can be found feeding on many species: silversides, sand eels, juvenile menhaden, glass minnows, squid, small shrimp and crabs. Yet, without a doubt, the fish key in on bay anchovies in the mid-Atlantic. In Cape Cod, Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket, they focus on sand eels.

“Yeah, they blitz on ­silversides, but for sure, they come into the Sound with the anchovies,” says Connecticut’s Devlin.

Bay anchovies usually measure 1 to 3 inches long, with a silver underbelly and a reddish, copper-colored back. The copper color only becomes obvious when the baitfish school up in the hundreds. Horsley calls them “red bait.”

These prey fish spend warmer months in the bays and estuaries of the mid-Atlantic. But the first cool night often signals an eastward migration in which they flood the inlets and beaches, bringing albies right up to the surf line.

“Montauk’s entire ecosystem revolves around bay anchovies,” says Dixon. “Some years we get sand eels, but anchovies create the big albie blitzes.”

The angle of your approach is real important. Turn the boat parallel to the fish so that after the cast, the angler can stay tight to the line.

— Capt. Gene Quigley

“Well, they certainly aren’t easy,” says Cape Cod’s Jowett. “Every once in a while, you’ll get a day where they feed recklessly, but the standard is you maybe catch a few.”

Whether you hook up or not is sometimes about the approach, says Horsley. “You’ve got to come in slow, off plane, making sure you don’t wash them out.” Indeed, big boats that push a lot of water seem to catch fewer fish than the smaller, lighter ones.

“The angle of your approach is real important,” says Quigley. “Turn the boat parallel to the fish so that after the cast, the angler can stay tight to the line.” Because they’re up and down so quickly, get the lure or fly moving as soon as it hits the water.

“Aggressive guys don’t help the situation,” says Dixon. “Running too fast spooks albies and breaks up the baitballs.”

It’s understandably hard for excited anglers to avoid chasing every pod of busting fish, but guys who take the wait-and-see approach score the high numbers. “Sure, I chase fish sometimes, but I also try and stay put, and look for patterns,” says Reich.

If you can calm down, observe and put yourself in the right place, you’re more likely to find yourself in the middle of a blitz rather than halfway down the beach following a pod that will sound before you can get there.

Patient anglers get bites by blind-casting too. “When crowds get bad, I go to points of land, depth changes, outflows or just areas I’ve noted bait concentrations, and we blind-fish,” says Devlin.

John Skinner, a New York angler and author of several books on surf-casting, notes that from shore, you usually don’t get shots at busting fish. “Just about every fish I catch is blind-casting. You really just need to find likely spots and then put in the time.”

False Albacore Lures and Tackle

Because albies can be finicky, baits and their presentation count. Generally, you won’t get them with striper techniques.

The go-to albie lure for some time has been the Deadly Dick — locally called a tin, a small, slender metal lure with reflective tape — in the ½- to 3-ounce versions. For sure, it catches.

Skinner uses all sizes: the windier, the heavier. But he throws the 2-ounce version more than anything. “You gotta reel in as fast as you can,” he says. “You can’t out-reel them.”

Most of the strikes he describes as “spectacular,” right on the surface, as the tin skips across the water. “If you’re fishing them right, it’ll be too fast for stripers and bluefish.”

Boat anglers also use Deadly Dick lures. Their weight and wind resistance allows quick, long casts. However, any small, slender metal lure can catch fish; ones with reflective prismatic tape tend to work best.

On the other hand, the newest generation of albie anglers swears by soft plastics, such as a 6-inch pink or white Slug-Go-type bait. “It flies in the face of all of us match-the-hatch ­advocates,” says Reich. “But they do draw violent strikes.”

Soft plastics need to be worked much slower than metal, and with an erratic, twitching motion. If you want them to swim right, you also have to fish them on a weedless hook with no weight, which makes them tough to cast, particularly in any stiff wind. Albie Snax soft baits have developed a following. They’re heavier, so casting is less of an issue.

From a boat or the beach, most anglers use a 7-foot medium-heavy spinning outfit. While they aren’t terribly big, albies are quite strong. Choose a serious reel with a smooth drag, capable of carrying at least 250 yards of 20-pound braid. I’ve seen lesser reels blow up. Use 4 feet of 20- to 30-pound fluorocarbon for a leader.

For fly anglers, Bob Popovich’s “surf candy,” in tan or copper over white, and other epoxy bay anchovy patterns seem to work the best. However, in recent years, some have moved away from real colors to more flashy ones such as chartreuse and pink. Which flies work, and when, really depends on the mood of the fish.

Many anglers go with a 9-weight for tackle, but some move up to a 10 so they can land fish faster. The reel should feature a good drag system and hold at least 250 yards of backing with a clear intermediate fly line. Leaders vary, but a lot of guys simply use 6 to 8 feet of straight 20-pound fluorocarbon. For finicky fish, try 15-pound-test.

Don’t Eat the Albies

Up until the past several decades, false albacore didn’t garner much attention — from anyone. That’s likely because they’re mostly inedible.

I found that out the hard way when I brought one home and tried to cook a couple of pieces. The smell lingered for several days; my cat wouldn’t even eat it.

The meat on a false albacore is dark red. Some folks claim to eat it, but I can’t see how.

Such a trait might be a blessing. Nasty flavor could be the reason these fish remain so abundant and reliable inshore at particular times of the year. Some commercial pressure exists, but remains minimal, at least for now.

That leaves albie addicts an available source of their particular drug. From the surface feed to their hard, fast run, these fish keep us jonesing for more.

About the Author:
Capt. John McMurray is owner-operator of One More Cast Charters, in western Long Island, New York.

The post False Albie Addicts appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

The most successful offshore anglers never leave the dock without pitch baits. Dead or alive, those baits can turn a fair day of fishing into an unforgettable one.

“Every single day I go in the ocean, if there’s a snowball’s chance in hell of catching a marlin, I’ve got a pitch bait on. All day, every day,” says Capt. Matt Carter, who once ran charters out of North Carolina’s Oregon Inlet and now skippers private boats.

Carter, who fishes from Montauk, New York to Mexico, always keeps pitch baits rigged and ready because many fish show up unexpectedly. The baits also tempt fish that appear in a trolling spread or behind a daisy chain but show no interest in eating.

“If a gaffer dolphin comes in, you need your pitch bait to be able to catch it,” he explains. “If I’m fishing a 9/0 or 10/0 tuna bait, I promise you that if he comes in on a teaser, he’ll hit that pitch bait. And how many times are people tuna fishing and a small blue marlin or white marlin comes in and is all over the spreader bar, and everyone’s looking at it?

“They have the mindset, ‘We don’t need a pitch bait; we’re not marlin fishing.’ What do you do when that gaffer dolphin comes in? Or that sailfish? You know how hard it is to hook a sailfish on a big lure? I always have pitch baits ready to go if a sailfish, whitey or a blue comes in. I want to make the most of that opportunity.”

Have Pitch Baits Ready When Trolling

Pitch baits prove popular from coast to coast. California tuna fishermen, such as Capt. Ty Ponder, a private boat captain from San Diego, use live Pacific sardines. Spanish sardines rank as the No. 1 pitch bait for Florida captains such as Casey Hunt of Key West’s CN-it Adventures. A threadfin herring ranks as his second choice. Carter’s go-to pitch bait is a dead ballyhoo, which matches what he’s trolling.

“All trolling guys, whether they’re fishing for blue marlin, white marlin or sailfish on the East Coast pitch dead baits, and all live-bait guys pitch live baits,” Hunt says. “Most boats are set up to always troll or always live-bait. But if you’re trolling and you have some live bait, it’s a great weapon.”

Whether you pitch live or dead baits, always have a bait ready, and immediately drop it into the water when a fish shows, especially when you already have one fish hooked, captains say.

“If you’re fighting a sailfish, cast [a sardine] toward it, and a lot of times you’ll hook another sailfish right away,” Hunt says, noting that the technique works with other species, most notably dolphin, but also wahoo, tuna and marlin. “Even before you release it, have a guy cast a bait toward that fish.”

When he trolls at 15 knots for wahoo, for instance, he’ll slow the boat once he hooks a fish and ask an angler to cast a live goggle-eye with a wire leader, in case there’s another wahoo around. With dolphin, he waits to pitch a livey until the fish obviously snubs the trolled baits.

If he finds a school of dolphin, Hunt starts casting lures or jigs. When the fish lose interest, he switches to chunks of ballyhoo or bonito. When they stop biting the chunks, he deploys liveys. And before leaving a dolphin school, he drops a live goggle-eye deep, well below the school, in case a larger fish still lurks.

When targeting tuna, Hunt will watch for the first jump, “then just throw everything you’ve got in your spread, because the more baits you have in the water, the better,” he says. “We do a lot of that, or we cast popping plugs. That kind of gets blackfin and yellowfin tunas fired up, then we cast baits.”

Hunt says he also has tossed pitch baits to white marlin out of Harbor Island in the Bahamas. “We’re pulling baits, hook a white, and as he’s getting close to the boat, we flip out live goggle-eyes and hook another.”

Pitch Live Baits to Sailfish

Florida captains use pitch baits most often for sailfish because the sails usually travel in pods. Hunt also keeps at least one live pitch bait handy, hooked to a spinning outfit, for those times when sails pop up in a kite spread or when he spots a free-jumper.

“If you see one free-jumping, basically lock up all your reels, speed up the boat, and pull all your baits over to where you saw him,” he says. “If I know there are a lot of free-jumpers around, I like bridling kite baits through the nose. If we have to pick them up, it’s easier if they’re hooked in the nose instead of the back.

“If you’re running along and see a sailfish jumping, try to get ahead of him and cast three or four baits at him, even if he goes down. He might come back up and bring more fish with him.”

Ready With a Pitch Bait for Marlin

When he’s trolling for marlin, Carter never knows what might show up in his spread, so he always keeps two sizes of pitch baits on his boat. If the big blue appears but doesn’t eat, he pitches a horse ballyhoo on a 10/0 to 12/0 circle hook behind a Mold Craft chugger lure, a tactic that has caught 600-pound marlin. His smaller pitch bait for small marlin, sailfish and dolphin is a naked “dink” ballyhoo on a 7/0 circle hook.

“Every time I hook a fish, pitch baits go in the water,” he adds. “Everybody’s prospecting. We make 20 or 30 pitches every single day. Don’t be scared to throw it. I think a lot of recreational anglers don’t take advantage.”

When a blue marlin comes up in Carter’s spread, he slowly pulls the teaser to the boat. As the teaser comes in, his mate puts a pitch bait in the water. One tip for hooking a blue on a pitch bait: Don’t let it get too far behind the boat.

“You never let the pitch bait get past where the squid chain would be,” Carter says. “People have a tendency to drop back and back. I always keep it near the back of the boat, and I make the fish come to me. If he’s inside the short-rigger distance, then you’re way better off. Too far back, you can’t see how to feed it.”

He recalls one Mid-Atlantic tournament he fished, when he had a white marlin doubleheader on the two flat lines. His mate was hauling in a daisy chain when Carter glanced at the outside teaser and saw a 400- to 500-pound blue marlin.

Says Carter of another trip: “One time in the Dominican Republic, we hooked two white marlin, and as we caught them on the turn, we had the baits going out and hooked a sailfish. “As we were hooking the sailfish, we pitched a bait to a blue marlin. So we literally caught a grand slam in one turn.”

Targeting Tuna With Pitch Baits

Ponder says West Coast anglers typically target yellowfin tuna and yellowtail with pitch baits—although in the past few years, bluefin tuna to 300 pounds also have made the hit list.

When tuna fishing, he runs 10 to 100 miles offshore, where he focuses on known ridge areas or high spots. There he looks for kelp paddies and what he calls floating structure, which attract bait and gamefish. Temperature breaks of 1 to 3 degrees often draw bait to the cooler side; the gamefish stay along the warmer, clearer side of the break. In Southern California, a typical break might transition from 63 to 65 degrees or 65 to 67.

Ponder also looks for dipping or diving birds. During summer, pods of feeding common dolphin can indicate tuna. And he always keeps an eye out for surface-breaking tuna. When he finds promising conditions, he often trolls feathers—real and plastic—as well as deep-diving Rapala X-Rap swimming plugs.

“As soon as somebody gets a bite, the first thing we’re going to do is start chumming,” says Ponder, who tosses out one or two live sardines at a time to keep the school close.

He prefers to rig a 6- to 10-inch live sardine for pitching, although he also uses anchovies and mackerel. Ponder notes that it’s critical to handle a bait with care, taking it out of the livewell with a bait net so that it looks good, retains all its scales, and remains lively.

“When you pitch it in the water, you want it to run away from the boat immediately. That’s going to be ideal,” he says, adding that an underhand pitch works best. “An overhand cast stuns the sardine when it lands, and it doesn’t run. With an underhand pitch, the sardine is more likely to run away from the boat. If it runs hard, it’s likely to get bit.”

If the bait doesn’t swim away, Ponder doesn’t soak it. “I immediately flick it off [the hook], and I go right back to the well and get another bait. I want a bait that’s fired up and swims away to get that reaction bite.”

Feather the line as the sardine swims away to keep in touch with the bait. “I hate to see guys feeding line, and they get a bunch of slack, and they’re not feeling their bait. They feed out 100 yards, and they don’t even know that their bait is sitting straight under the boat.”

Pitch Bait Fishing Tactics

Even when pitching dead baits, keep that connection and you’ll score more hookups. With time, experience and dedication to the details, you’ll perfect that all-important sales pitch.

Capt. Casey Hunt of Key West, Florida, who kite-fishes with 20-pound Accurate conventional reels, suggests a 7-foot spinning rod and any brand of reel that holds 400 to 500 yards of fishing line for pitch-baiting.

He ties a Bimini twist in his 20-pound Momoi Diamond or Diamond Illusion main line, creating 10 inches of doubled line. With an Albright knot, he attaches a 15-foot leader of 30-pound Momoi Diamond fluorocarbon tied to an Eagle Claw 5/0 or 6/0 circle hook. He hooks or bridles live pitch baits through both lips so that the baits don’t fly off when cast.

While Hunt runs along a color change to set up a drift, each of his anglers stands ready with a baited spinning outfit. The prepared baits swim in either a 5-gallon bucket of water or a livewell. If Hunt sees a free-jumper, he can maneuver in front of the fish to let the anglers cast.

A Tuna Pitch Bait

To catch tuna in the 20- to 50-pound class, Capt. Ty Ponder of San Diego uses a 7-foot, 6-inch Okuma PCH Custom extra-heavy, 30- to 60-pound rod with Okuma Cavalla conventional two-speed reels in size 5 or 12.

He typically fishes 65- to 80-pound Sufix braided line with 6 to 100 feet of 30- to 50-pound Sufix Invisiline fluorocarbon leader. He uses shorter leaders to maintain sensitivity to the bite but extends them if fish grow skittish.

Ponder attaches the braid to the fluorocarbon with a John Collins knot, also known as the Royal Polaris knot, which he likes because it’s slimmer and seldom fails. He upgrades his tackle appropriately when bigger bluefin tuna come around.

He uses a San Diego jam knot to attach a VMC circle or J hook, which he matches to the size of the bait. “I personally never set the hook on a tuna, even with a J hook. I just reel the line tight and lift the rod tip.”

Ponder often nose-hooks live sardines when pitching them for tuna and yellowtail. He also hooks sardines in the back, just ahead of the dorsal fin, which makes them “look like a Rapala.” For a third option, he hooks the sardine in front of the anal fin so that the bait swims down and away from the boat.

The All Purpose Pitch Bait

Private-boat skipper Capt. Matt Carter uses 20- to 30-pound-class custom rods with Shimano Talica 20 or 25 conventional reels. He attaches 30-pound main line with an 80-pound top shot to a ball-bearing swivel crimped to a wind-on leader of 60- to 80-pound fluorocarbon. He snells the leader to a 7/0 circle hook baited with a dead, naked ballyhoo.

Carter keeps the rods handy in the rocket launcher or tower-leg rod holders, and the rigged ballyhoo rest in pitch-bait tubes filled with ice and salt water to keep the baits fresh. “Nothing’s worse than fishing all day and having the fish of a lifetime come up, and you’ve got a bait that’s been drying in the sun,” he says. “They won’t eat it.”

Carter notes that the tubes can be attached to a tower rod holder, a fighting chair or a rocket launcher, so they’re always in the right place when the time comes.

“No matter what you do, you have to get in the habit of having that pitch bait in the same location every time,” Carter says. “You don’t even have to think about it. My mate hears ‘right teaser,’ and he goes straight to that rod every time.”

The post The Perfect Pitch appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Ascent to Glory

A heart-throbbing scene unfolds on the deck of a sport-fisher as a marlin pops up in the trolling spread, dorsal flung high and pectorals aglow. With powerful, staccato sweeps of its massive tail, the billfish bursts toward the right flat line. All hell breaks loose as the billfish attacks. The crew scurries to action. A rod bends double. A clicker screams. Line melts away in a high‑speed blur. It is what offshore anglers live for.

Yet when it comes to big-game fish, this scenario seems to repeat more for some boats than others. Such “lucky” sport-fishers seem to possess mythical powers, raising innumerable fish from the depths as if by tractor beam.

But do boats really attract offshore species such as mahi, marlin, sailfish, tuna and wahoo? Are some boats more apt to raise offshore fish than others? And if so, what is it that causes fish to home in on such an unnatural object as a boat? These are the questions to which I sought answers from a variety of offshore-angling experts who have fished around the world, from Hawaii to Cape Hatteras to Guatemala.

Boats as Fish-Aggregating Devices

Animal Magnetism

More than one expert has likened a boat to a floating object on the offshore grounds, where game fish are attracted to things such as weed lines and kelp paddies, as well as discarded pallets, offshore weather buoys and man-made FADs (fish-aggregating devices). In their shade and sanctuary, these floating objects often harbor a community of marine life spanning the food chain. So why wouldn’t fish view a boat — despite its transient nature — in the same way?

Anecdotal evidence suggests that a boat in and of itself — whether moving or stationary — will attract fish, according to most of the experts I talked with. What’s more, most believe that visual cues associated with the boat have a stronger influence on fish than do sounds or vibrations.

Supporting these assertions were observations by the late Jim Rizzuto, a beloved Hawaiian fishing authority and writer, who told of two large yellowfin tuna swimming in the shadow of a 30-foot sport-fisher as it trolled for marlin. “The ahi were snuggling up against the hull and seemed not at all upset at the sight and sound of the boat,” Rizzuto said.

In addition, a big blue marlin showed about the same time. He estimated the fish in the 1,000-pound range. “All of these big fish seemed to be attracted to the boat and didn’t want to swim away” Rizzuto said. They appeared to make the boat their home, at least until the crew caught the yellowfin, though they failed to get the marlin.

A Sport Boat is Just a Big Teaser

In some ways, a moving boat might be even more attractive to predatory fish than a stationary object. This is due to what some might call the big-teaser effect. Like a large, hookless teaser lure designed to create a commotion on the surface to simulate a school of fish attacking bait and draw the attention of a curious predator, the prop wash, froth, and splashing of the boat hull may accomplish the same thing.

Most big-game anglers assume that a boat moving through the water is your biggest teaser and the first thing that notifies a billfish of your presence. A boat is larger than any teaser, attracting fish from a distance. They see the boat, the teaser, then your bait.

Some captains believe that the boldest fish are also the largest ones, at least when it comes marlin, and so they are more likely to get close to the boat. “In Hawaii, the lures closest to the boat often draw strikes from the biggest fish,” Rizzuto used to say. Yet, the longer trolling lines usually take smaller fish.

“As a result, big-game trollers generally position their largest lures just a few wakes back,” the Hawaiian angling expert explained.

The type of wake a boat lays down can also affect success, according to Randy Ramsey, co-founder of North Carolina-based Jarrett Bay Boatworks. “Billfish are sight feeders, and a clean wake allows them to see the baits or lures more easily,” Ramsey explained. Three factors that help create clean wakes include a hull that’s free of fouling, properly aligned running gear and well-tuned propellers.

Raising Fish Like the Pied Piper

Most experts agree that sound also plays a role in how well a boat raises offshore fish. While no one has conducted empirical testing, boats emitting the thrum from a pair of big diesel engines certainly catch a fair share of offshore fish. Yet, could this be the result of the greater number of twin-diesel sport‑fishers out there trolling? Plenty of fish have also been caught by anglers trolling with multiple four-stroke outboard engines. That number seems to be on the rise as more and more supersize center-console boats head out to pursue big-game fish.

Many assert that the key seems to be the resonance set up between two or more marine power plants, rather than the type of engine. This results in a pulsed low-frequency sound underwater that draws in fish from a distance. It has been long established that sharks are attracted to low-frequency, pulsed white noise, much like the sound of injured baitfish or a pair of out-of-synch diesel engines. We can only assume that billfish are attracted to this noise as well.

The correct harmonics make a big difference in whether fish will come to the boat to look at the lures, according to Capt. Brad Philipps, who runs Guatemala Fishing Adventures and has released more than 25,000 billfish.

“A captain’s preference for a particular trolling speed may reflect his boat’s ‘sweet spot,’” he says. “Engines turning at a certain rpm range may produce a set of harmonics that raise billfish like the Pied Piper.”

How does he know when he has achieved this? The fish tell him so. “I know I’m pulling at the right speed when we’re getting as many or more bites than the boats around us.”

The type of hull construction might also play a role, Ramsey explained. “I look at boats such as Big Oh, Chainlink, Inspiration and Sensation — boats that have been successful with different crews,” he says. “One thing they all have in common is that these are wooden-cored boats. While these hulls might not be popular, wooden-cored boats might make them better at raising fish.”

Stay Tuned

Sometimes the harmonics can turn sour. This was the case with Kona, Hawaii, Capt. John Bagwell, according to Rizzuto. Bagwell and his boat, Silky, had been on a hot streak. He and his crew had won a Skins Tournament with a 645-pound blue marlin, and followed it up a few weeks later with Henry Chee Award for the highest-scoring skipper in the Hawaiian International Billfish Tournament.

“Later in the year, however, Bagwell began to wonder if his 45-foot Viking had lost its competitive edge,” said Rizzuto. “The captain began to think the engines didn’t sound right.”

The fish evidently felt the same, as the boat was not getting as many blue marlin strikes as earlier in the year. So Bagwell had the boat hauled and ordered tune-ups on the twin 485 Detroit diesels, transmissions and running gear. After the tune-up, Silky was again running as smoothly as its name, according to Rizzuto. And the fish returned to its wake. Silky and its crew picked up the pace, releasing a steady stream of billfish, just as before.

The lesson here: Sport-fishers require regular tune-ups if they are to maintain the harmonics that attract fish. “A squeaky bearing or bent prop blade could blow up into expensive problems,” said Rizzuto, “but none bigger than dragging down the fish count.”

Echoing that sentiment is Jarrett Bay’s Ramsey. “One thing is for sure,” he said, “if a boat has a bad vibration, bearing noise, bent prop shaft or other issues, this hurts the boat’s ability to raise fish.”

Ramsey pointed to evidence based on the success of new boats. “Have you ever noticed that new boats seem to catch better than older ones?” he asked. “I think it is because the bearings and running gear are tight. Crews and owners should pay attention to this as their boats age, and ensure everything is running properly.”

Size Can Matter

Large and In Charge

It seems that bigger sport-fishing boats consistently rack up higher scores than do smaller boats. But again, this might simply be a matter of numbers: In most parts of the world, there are more large sport-fishers offshore at any given time than there are smaller boats. And because of their size, larger boats can go big-game fishing on days when marginal weather and large seas force smaller boats to stay in port.

Yet, according to many experts, fish don’t care what kind of boat you are on. In my experience, I have found success in raising striped marlin off Southern California behind even smaller boats, including a single-diesel-powered 26-foot convertible and a single-outboard-powered 22-foot center-console. Yet in most cases, the marlin were as thick as fleas offshore. On tougher days, the larger boats with twin engines seemed to hold the advantage when it came to trolling.

Running large hookless teasers, daisy chains of artificial squid, or dredges can help create more commotion and enlarge your offshore “footprint” while trolling in a boat that’s smaller than rest of the fleet, and this can help level the playing field when fishing among the big boys.

Sounder Proof

How can you tell if your boat’s fishy? There is a way to test its fish-attracting power, according to Rizzuto, but it relies on keeping your eye on the fish finder. Sport-fishers equipped with high-quality fish finders can mark fish such as marlin and tuna as deep as 20 to 30 fathoms.

“When you spot a marlin or tuna down deep on the fish finder, turn your head around and look at your wake,” Rizzuto said. “Then count to 20.” It takes about 10 to 20 seconds for a curious blue marlin to swim to the surface to investigate.

“If you don’t see the fish slashing at your lures or tracking them, mark the spot on your GPS chart plotter and circle back after you are sure your lures have cleared the area with no interest from a billfish,” he added. “Troll over the area again, and give the fish another chance to investigate.” Raising fish such as marlin or tuna in this manner will prove that your boat has fish-attracting power.

Men and Machine

Of course, a boat alone will not catch fish. The experience, knowledge, and hard work of an energetic captain and crew rank as essential elements of offshore success. It is the crew’s intimate understanding of how to take advantage of a boat’s fish-attracting characteristics that proves critical. The crew’s ability to select the best lures, gauge the proper trolling distances and choose the right speed — not only for the boat, but for the ever-changing sea conditions — can often mean more than anything else.

Just as a fine guitar requires a talented musician to make music, a modern fishing machine requires the skill of its captain and crew to make fish rise to the trolling spread. And when it comes together, there’s nothing in this world that’s more exciting. That’s why I call it raising havoc.

The post Raising Havoc: Attract Pelagics to Your Boat appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

It was a slow summer at Hudson Canyon off New York, but we were headed out anyway, because you can’t catch tuna when you’re dry on the dock. We weren’t halfway out when we saw life — a half-dozen whales rolling, and tails rising among what must have been 100 or more tightly packed bottlenose dolphin. Dozens of shearwaters flocked around the ­commotion. Extending outward for 100 square yards, storm petrels dabbed the blue 75-degree surface waters. The sonar screen read 180 feet.

One cast into the mayhem created instant action. As soon as the bail closed, a fish grabbed the lure, and the rod doubled over at an impossible angle. Line easily peeled off the reel against a good 30 pounds of drag. The mate looked over at me with a big smile on his face and said, “Well, I guess we’re not going to the canyon.”

Running way offshore for big pelagics is ingrained. Want to catch tuna? Hit the “deep,” the “edge,” the canyons. And whether you see life or empty ocean, deploy a spread and troll blindly for hours. But in recent years, most of the good fishing has occurred well inshore of the canyons, and trolling isn’t required.

Tuna Feed on Sand Eels

We owe this success to one thing, and one thing alone: sand lances, Ammodytes americanus (known locally as sand eels) — long, slender, 6- to 8-inch ­low-trophic-level fish with a pointy snout.

In past years, when the sand eels have shown up — usually by mid-June — they’ve appeared in extraordinary numbers. Anglers know about it pretty quickly because often the entire list of oceanic predators also find them. Not just those with fins, but those with wings as well. Everything appears to eat sand eels.

To be clear, this bait does not reside in deep water. As the name suggests, sand eels prefer relatively sandy habitat in 40 fathoms or shallower. They also burrow at night into the soft substrate and spend their days feeding on zooplankton. They’re not equipped to frequent deep, high-­pressure water, thus don’t expect to see big ­concentrations at the canyons.

Why do they gather, and why recently have they flooded the 20- to 40-fathom area from Maryland to New York from mid-June to mid-September? Those are more-difficult questions to answer, but it seems likely that the mass migration involves a food source. Adult and larval sand lances feed primarily on copepods (immature crustaceans) and other tiny animals, so they might be focused on a new zooplankton bloom.

Regardless of the reason, the ­sand eels now congregate so thickly that once you’re into them, you often can’t read bottom on your sounder. And it’s clear that when they’re abundant, they attract a host of predators — most important of which are bluefin and yellowfin tuna — that gorge on the smallish baits with reckless abandon.

Where to Find Sand Eels and Tuna

“It’s all about finding life when you make these midshore tuna runs,” says New Jersey charter captain Gene Quigley (shorecatch.com). “I’d say we look for whales more than anything, but there are certainly other indicators.”

Not only do whales and tuna feed on this same prey, but both bluefin and yellowfin tuna often swim directly beneath the whales, possibly slurping up stunned sand eels after a whale has lunge-fed.

“We look for [bottlenose] dolphin too,” Quigley continues. “Not just the rolling ones, but the ones that are clearly smashing sand eels.”

Finding cow-nosed rays in 150 to 200 feet of water in July or August might be one of the best tuna signs. “Man, you run across a school of cow-nosed rays, and you’re a fool not to stop on it,” says New York captain Cory Crochetiere. “Drop a jig under them, and it’s often an immediate hookup.”

On a clear, calm day, you can see rays pushing water when they’re on the surface. But often they swim 10 feet or more down. When they pass under your boat, they’re easy to see. For better or worse, rays also hit a jig or soft plastic.

Rays often appear accompanied by storm petrels, or what we call “tuna chicks”—small unassuming birds that seem to dance on the water. Just the presence of these birds, with or without the rays, can indicate sand eels, and subsequently tuna.

The petrels clearly don’t feed on sand eels. More likely they’re eating the same planktonic animals as the sand eels. A mother lode of storm petrels signals a mandatory stop, but even if you see just a half-dozen, give it a try. “We had our largest bluefin one year, casting a stickbait at a flock of what was maybe six or seven tuna chicks,” Crochetiere says. “A 250-pound-class bluefin came out of nowhere and crushed the plug.”

Shearwater birds also can suggest the presence of sand eels. If you see shearwaters circling high above the water, make a stop. They might be seeing something that you can’t, such as big pods of sand eels or even cruising tuna.

While you’ll likely see such life fairly close to shore, inside 20 fathoms, you probably won’t see tuna, at least during the June-to-September period. We really don’t stop on anything inside 20 fathoms, unless we see obvious signs of tuna feeding. Generally, we find the sweet spot in the 30-fathom range.

However, even in that depth range, if the water looks green or dirty, most of the time we just move. You occasionally might find bluefin in less-than-blue water, but rarely yellowfin. Look for sand eels in cobalt-blue offshore water. That doesn’t guarantee tuna, but work the area. Nearby tuna eventually will find that bait.

Tough Tuna Fishing Gear

We fish these sand eel aggregations with soft-plastic and hard baits, using stout spinning tackle. Our favorite reels include Van Staals , Shimanos, and Daiwas. For a more affordable alternative, try the newest Penn offshore spinners. Reels should be spooled with at least 80-pound braid and 6 to 10 feet of 80- to 125-pound fluorocarbon leader.

Rods must be specific to the tuna-popping-and-jigging game as well. Popping rods measure 7 feet, 6 inches to 8 feet, 4 inches long (casting distance is important), and they should be strong in the butt section for extended fights and real lifting power.

Rods to fish soft-plastic eels can be shorter, at 6 to 7 feet, but they should demonstrate the same parabolic composition. Madd Mantis makes an affordable 7-foot all-around rod.

Summer Bluefin Tuna Fishing

Sand eels usually start to show in the 30-fathom range by mid-June. “It’s generally a water-temperature thing,” says noted New York offshore angler Ray Phelan. “Right around 65 degrees, we start to see them, and they get more abundant as things warm.”

Late spring also marks the appearance of larger (for spin-fishermen) bluefin in the 200-plus-pound category. Moving into July, the bluefin become more manageable in size—in the 80-pound range.

“Yeah, we get a few on poppers and stickbaits,” Crochetiere says, “but during the past couple of years, the shearwaters were so bad that you’d waste valuable time untangling birds. Most of the fish we catch [when that happens] are on RonZ soft-plastic baits.”

The soft-plastic tail wiggles so easily that you won’t have to impart much action to make it resemble a sand eel. Even when working this bait very slowly, it still features a ton of movement. “Tuna will often grab it on the drop,” Crochetiere says. “And we’ve certainly caught fish just dead-sticking them,” or leaving the rod in the holder.

We’ve learned over the years that bluefin like a slow bait presentation. Even with plugs, a long, slow retrieve draws way more strikes than a fast one. Once you get the RonZ below the surface, avoiding a shearwater attack, it works really well. Yes, metal jigs can and do work, but not as well as these 10-inch soft plastics.

When the birds abate, Crochetiere mixes in some poppers and stickbaits such as the Nomad Riptide. This 200 mm (8-inch) translucent floating stickbait features a single strip of reflective tape on its sides, and closely mimics a sand eel. Work this bait in a slow, sweeping fashion. Other effective plugs include the Siren Deep Seductress, Shimano Orca and Daiwa Slider.

“Poppers are pretty awesome too, if for no other reason than the often-violent blowups,” Crochetiere says. His popper choice: the Madd Mantis Atasi. “Not so easy to find anymore, but there’s something about this plug that draws crazy strikes.”

Late-Summer Yellowfin Tuna Fishing

By late July or early August, you might catch a yellowfin while targeting bluefin in that same, general 30-fathom range. And then, in what seems like the span of a few hours, the bluefin can disappear, presumably shooting up to New England and farther north.

“I’m not sure if it’s a ­temperature change, or it’s just that so many yellowfin show up that they push the bluefin out,” Quigley says, noting that the water warms to 74 or 75 degrees in midsummer.

The bait doesn’t change, however; the sand eels continue to swarm. Fishing yellowfin on sand eel aggregations remains similar to targeting bluefin, with a few nuances. Yellowfin seem to swim with the dolphins to a greater extent than the bluefin. A popper placed in front of a school of feeding dolphins often results in an explosive strike from an 80-pound tuna. Cow-nosed rays also dependably indicate nearby yellowfin; the fish often swim directly underneath the rays.

Unique to yellowfin, however, are the skipjack schools. “We have a lot of success throwing big poppers in those skipjack schools,” Quigley says. “The big yellowfin come up from underneath all those skippies and hammer them.”

I don’t think the yellowfin eat the skipjack. Both species seem to feed on the sand eels. Almost every time we clean a yellowfin, we find a stomach packed full of eels, but no skipjack.

Sand eel fishing for tuna winds down in September mainly because the weather worsens and the water cools. Yellowfin, in particular, begin to migrate to deeper water. The eels do remain, and anglers can fish another brief run of bluefin in December as the tuna head back south. During that time, fishing occurs in much shallower water closer to shore.

For summer tuna, remember that farther might not always be better. Think twice about running long, or at least keep your eyes open on the way to the deep. Find the life, and you might score big without burning all that fuel.

The post Catch Tuna Near Sand Eels appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.