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.

Among the many species I’ve pursued around the globe, striped bass still hold top ranking on my list, and my favorite place to engage with this rugged fish is in the clear shallows of New England. For the ultimate striper challenge, an experience that marries the demanding flats fishing for bonefish with a hint of tropical reef wading for aggressive trevally, look to the coastal flats of Narragansett Bay, the Elizabethan Islands, Block Island and the waters around Cape Cod, where light sandy bottom peppered with boulders, carpets of eelgrass and shellfish beds draws plenty of hungry stripers.

Striped bass, ranging from packs of school-size 5- to 15-pounders in the deeper channels to lone fish as large as 50 pounds, routinely prowl and hunt these clear flats and shorelines. They may appear as dark shadows against the sand, or as silver-green phantoms with fins glowing ultraviolet purple. When the tide is right and the moon fat, these fish readily take gaudy lures and flies. Cast beyond them and retrieve with the tide, from shallow to deeper water, across their travel path. When the moon is shyer, so are the stripers, which become selective and demand smaller lures and lighter terminal gear.

Approach carefully, keep your shadow off the fish, and cast beyond and ahead of the fish, then retrieve as if the lure is fleeing. Correctly interpreting the behavior of a pursuing linesider reacting to the lure makes all the difference between a committed smash or a hard turn and bolt that leave a cloud of sand and disappointment. Clear-water sight-casting to glowing phantoms and reading fish behavior as they track your lure isn’t a likely scene you conjure up when thinking about striped bass in the Northeast, but in New England from May through July, it becomes an exciting reality.

The post Striped Bass Fishing in New England appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Like any sport, you can spend as much as you want gearing up for your next saltwater battle. However, northeast striper ace Blaine Anderson said the summer months offer plenty of opportunity for anglers with even modest tackle to engage one the region’s premier sport fish.

“It’s easy fishing and there’s a low barrier to entry,” Anderson said of the warm season’s incredible action. “They’re aggressive fish and you can catch them all summer long.”

The striper show abounds throughout this renowned region, with perennial favorites like Block Island (Rhode Island), Fishers Island (New York), Plum Island (Massachusetts) and countless reef systems such as Connecticut’s Bartlett Reef. Where current swirls through rock structure, Anderson expects his prime opportunities.

“Any of the reefs in 15 feet or less will produce, but a boat with a trolling motor will allow you to get in shallow,” Anderson said. “I’ll get in there as shallow as 3 to 4 feet. You have to be careful, because there are a lot of big boulders, but that’s what’s holding the stripers there.”

No doubt, the shallowest of these rocky minefields demand respect, so proceed with caution. Often, the reward more than justifies the effort. Just know that the attraction is all about feeding. Bunker (menhaden) and other forage are no match for the ocean’s might, but stripers are built for this.

“It’s a lot like trout in a river or a stream; the stripers will be in the eddy behind a boulder waiting for something to come by,” Anderson said. “They’re really powerful swimmers, so they don’t mind the current, but the bait is very vulnerable and they’re going to be swept across [the boulder field] and they’re at the mercy of the current at that time.

“Somedays, you may not see the bait, but other days, it may be all over and the stripers will be blowing up. It will change from one day to the next, but they will always be on the reefs and the more bait there is, the more active they are.”

Best Time to Fish for Stripers

Anderson said the fish will feed in practically any summer conditions, but he likes a calm, overcast day — maybe even a little fog. It’s as much a mood thing as it is a fishing thing, but the ambiance is undeniable.

“Everything is so quiet; you can hear fish blow up from a distance,” Anderson said. “With calm water, I think the fish can hear the rattles in your (artificial) baits, so they can home in on it a little easier.

As for time of day, Anderson calls summer striper fishing a 24/7 adrenaline rush.

“Back in the day, when I was guiding, it didn’t matter what the weather was doing or what the tides were — we’d fish from 5 a.m. until 11,” Anderson said. “You can catch them at high noon, with not a cloud in the sky, but I prefer the low light of early morning, because you’re often the first one on your spot.

“A lot of boats can put the fish down, but if you get out there first, you can go really slow and quiet with the trolling motor and catch several before anyone gets out there.”

Lures and Tackle for Striped Bass

For simplicity and undeniable fish appeal, Anderson said it’s hard to beat a big 7- to 9-inch topwater walker. His preference, the Shimano Current Sniper Splash Walk in bone white or bunker.

“The topwater bites are explosive, but even if the fish are not being aggressive, those big topwaters will still call them up,” Anderson said. “After that, you can adjust to subsurface baits. These big topwater baits allow you to cover lot of water, but the nice thing about the Splash Walk is that with sharp rod twitches, you can almost walk it in place. You’re really only turning the handle of the reel to take the slack out of the line.

“Some days they want it a little different. Sometimes you’ll twitch it and let it sit there and they’ll come up and smash it on the pause. But if there are big fish around, you’re going to know it.”

Blaine Anderson’s Tackle Preferences: A 7-foot, 6-inch medium-heavy Shimano Terramar XX Southeast spinning rod with a Shimano Twinpower XD 4000 reel carrying 50-pound PowerPro Super Slick V2 braid and a 30- to 50-pound fluorocarbon leader.

“They’re not really line shy, but I’ll start with 4- to 5-foot leader, because as I change lures throughout the day, that leader gets shorter and shorter,” Anderson said. “For hook set and for pulling them out of boulder fields, this is a good setup.”

When he’s not finding the topwater action, one of Anderson’s go-tos is a jerkbait based on forage size. Top colors are herring, bone white, and white with colored spots. Another option is a large soft plastic twitchbait like a Lunker City Slug-Go or a Zoom Super Fluke. Anderson suggests rigging these baits on 4/0 to 5/0 belly-weighted hooks (or jig heads heavy enough for the water’s depth).

Live Bait Fishing for Striped Bass

Complementing the lures, many Northeast stripers are caught on natural baits. Anderson says live eels are a Block Island favorite — especially after dark. Castnet a bunch of 12- to 14-inch bunker and you can catch stripers just about anywhere.

“The easiest way is to live line them on circle hooks in the same areas as you’d throw the topwaters,” Anderson said. “In deeper current areas, you’ll fish bunker on 3-way rigs with a heavy weight on the bottom. The trick is to keep it down and some days, you’ll need 16-ounce weights.”

Scup (aka porgies) also tempt stripers, but stow the castnet and catch these hardy bottom dwellers on hook and line. A dropper-style rig baited with squid or chunks of sand worm will deliver the goods. Then, rig scup on a bottom 3-way rig.

“If we’re live lining with no weight, I like to get up shallow and let the baits swim around the boulders,” Anderson said. “About 100 feet away is good, so when you hook up, you can change the angle on them to fight the fish out of the boulder field. With the 3-way rigs, the more vertical you can be the better. I like to fish live baits more up and down.”

Blaine Anderson’s Tackle Preferences: For live lining, a 7-foot, 6-inch medium-heavy Shimano Teramar XX Northeast casting rod with a Shimano Trinidad 12 or 14 reel spooled with 50-pound PowerPro Super Slick V2 braid. For 3-way rigging, a 7-foot medium-heavy casting rod with a Shimano Torium reel spooled with 50-pound PowerPro Super Slick V2 braid.

“If you’re going to be 3-way rigging, make sure your rod is stout enough to support the weight of whatever size sinker you’re using and still have enough backbone to fight the fish,” Anderson said. “You don’t want to strap a 16-ounce sinker on and watch the rod fully load before you get your bait in the water.”

However you engage summer stripers, Anderson describes the proper fighting style as a blend of patience and persistence. Summarily: Even pressure.

“I think the most common mistake is when people get excited and they’re pulling back on the rod too quickly so it’s fully loaded,” Anderson said. “When they make a couple of cranks and drop the rod tip, that rod is unloading and that’s when the hook ends up pulling. I like to have the same pressure on the rod whether I’m pulling on the fish or reeling down on the fish. The angle of the rod never changes.”

The post Northeast Summer Striper Tactics appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

My boat was drifting on a calm conveyor belt of water running through an ancient minefield of boulders when I drew my first strike. More precisely, four strikes. Clichés rushed to mind — “third time’s the charm” and “three strikes, you’re out”— but none ended up applying. A big bluefish had chased, crashed and missed my topwater on three successive attempts. The final hit came just as I lifted the plug from the water. The slammer blue startled and soaked me as it connected with the treble hook and ran, almost yanking the rod from my hand, the spool like a tire spinning in snow.

Moments later, Bard and I waltzed around the center console as our lines crossed and then crossed again. I ducked under Bard’s rod as he reached his over me, trying to control the chaos while I kept an eye on a boulder looming down-current. Finally, with one hand still locked on my bent rod, I cranked the engine and nudged it into gear, idling us to safer water and leading the predators out of the rocks like untrained dogs on leashes. It was late September, and shaping up to be a great afternoon along a gnarled island 8 miles off Connecticut.

Birth of World-Class Fishing Structure

About 85,000 years ago, the late Wisconsin Glacier inched its way southeast from Canada, eventually reaching southern New England approximately 26,000 years ago. As the ice mass moved, a mile high at its thickest, it compressed and scoured the landscape like a massive, creeping bulldozer.

Roughly 6,000 years later, the glacier paused just beyond Connecticut and began to recede. At this point, the huge floe deposited its end moraine — mountains of sediment composed of rocks, gravel, sand and soil — creating most of western Long Island, New York. World-class fishing structure was born.

As the glacier retreated, it paused several more times, depositing additional moraines and forming the east end of New York’s Long Island, Plum Island, Great Gull Island and Fishers Island. The glacier also dropped smaller rubble piles in northern Long Island Sound, including Falkner Island, Charles Island, the Norwalk Islands and the Captain Islands. Farther northeast, moraines also created the now-famous tourist and fishing destinations of Block Island, Rhode Island and the Elizabeth Islands, Martha’s Vineyard, and Nantucket, Massachusetts.

Boulders Attract Fishing Predators

Boulders in a tidal current are to bluefish and striped bass what rocks in a stream are to brook and brown trout. These random obstacles disturb water flow and create resting and feeding stations for predators and prey.

“Big rocks provide optimal structure and divert currents,” says Capt. Chris Elser, a shallow-water expert from southwest Connecticut with more than 35 years of experience fishing coastal islands. “The water around boulder fields becomes oxygenated from wave action and currents coursing between and over large rocks, which attracts crustaceans, eels and many other baitfish.”

Rocks also draw baits because they host seaweed, which in turn provides forage and sanctuary for prey species. “Stripers and blues stalk these baits by holding near boulders,” says Elser. “They lurk there in ambush mode. The sheltered areas also allow large fish to expend minimal energy in a highly productive feeding environment, and they feel protected in the vast structure.”

The Why and Where of Islands

Islands are worth the time, effort and fuel it takes to fish them because not everybody’s small boat can get there; only skilled and serious anglers make the trip across big bays and sounds, and that means less competition. Islands are more often adjacent to deeper water than is mainland structure, and islands have current flow on all sides, which gives fish and fishermen more options, including shelter. Islands are 360-degree habitats in which fish might feed on either the incoming, outgoing or both tide phases.

When searching for prime casting stretches, pros always study the dry land contours. For example, if the shore is flat and gradual, expect adjacent water to be shallow with a clear bottom. Conversely, if the island banks are steep and rocky, pros expect the bottom to drop off abruptly. The more rugged the structure, the better the chance of finding large fish.

With Structure, Size Does Matter

Upon idling into a promising area, experts work the outer edges of a boulder field first, where the water is deepest, and progressively move and cast closer on each drift. Points, corners and pockets are key target zones because they are near strong currents but also provide eddies where fish station and hunt.

“Dominant fish usually own the territory near the biggest rock,” says Elser, “so it’s key to find the largest piece of structure within a particular group of rocks. I prefer to fish structure on the side facing the wind because it adds to the speed of the upper currents and creates whirlpools in the boulder fields. Small baits struggle here, making for easy prey. The current and wind wash crabs, shrimp, eels and other baitfish into the surf, creating feeding opportunities.”

Capt. Ned Kittredge, a pro from southern Massachusetts with 40 years of experience, looks for shallows of 2 to 20 feet over rocky shoreline structure with moving water. “I’ve found stripers in as little as 18 inches of water,” he says. “The action in this range can be phenomenal and breathtaking. But it’s not necessarily fast water. The current I look for is more subtle. On the deep end, if there’s bait present and the fish are feeding, they’ll come up from 20 feet to grab a plug. But not much deeper than that.”

Working the Waters

Stripers and bluefish spook easily when feeding in less than 15 feet of water during calm conditions, so it’s important to cover the water before your boat drifts through. When the current is moving fast, slowing your boat is a good technique that enables you to fan-cast the edges of the boulder field before being pushed past them. You can employ a trolling motor, push-pole or anchor to control your drift.

Kittredge starts a drift in approximately 25 feet of water and slowly works toward shore, casting over as much area as possible until he locates fish. “I’ll sometimes use a drift sock to slow the boat,” he says of those times when there is a breeze opposing the current.

When conditions are right, the most challenging and exciting way to access big fish is to stalk them in skinny water among the boulders. Cutting-edge anglers use their fishing boat as a mothership to transport kayaks or stand-up paddleboards to an island, and then deploy them to paddle over water too shallow for a powerboat.

“On calm days,” says guide Sean Callinan, who specializes in SUP adventures along the Connecticut coast, “you can’t beat the thrill of casting a plug or fly to predators while gliding through a maze of structure that may hold your trophy.”

Of course, paddlers must bring all necessary safety gear, including a flotation device, a cellphone in a resealable bag, a bottle of water, a signaling device and a pair of waterproof handheld radios to communicate with the mothership. An experienced companion must man the mothership and fish within sight of the paddler.

Topwater Fishing Tricks for Stripers

“First,” says Capt. Dixon Merkt, a light-tackle and fly specialist along the tide-swept islands and rips of eastern Long Island Sound, “you need to learn how to read the water. Look for nervous water created by the current moving over submerged structure. Start fishing ahead of it and work your way down through it. Never hesitate to cast way beyond that nervous water and retrieve the plug back over it so it looks like an escaping baitfish traveling over a distance.”

Any retrieve works for blues and bass when they’re aggressive and hungry. But when they’re fussy, you’ll need to vary your technique until you find one that produces. For bluefish, a steady, fast and noisy retrieve is effective. But for stripers, most pros slowly work a spook or pencil popper in a walk-the-dog style. Occasionally changing speed or pausing will often prompt a strike from a stubborn linesider.

“If you get a blue that short-hits and misses the plug several times,” says Merkt, “stop and then start the fast retrieve again. You’re likely to hook up on the next attack.”

Once a fish grabs your topwater, you’ll need to put some backbone into the set because a slow-moving lure won’t set itself. “Blues and big stripers have a mouth as hard as Tupperware,” says Kittredge, “and you need to punch a hole in it. Once a fish is hooked, use plenty of pressure to work it out of the rocks as quickly as possible, using the motor if necessary, and hope for good luck. I’ve lost plenty of big bass because I wasn’t ready for a fish of that size.”

Best Times to Fish and the Best Rigs to Use

“As a rule of thumb,” says Elser, “the lower the light, the shallower the water you can productively target. Ninety percent of my topwater fishing takes place near dawn and dusk.

Elser favors a 12- to 20-pound-class 7-foot rod loaded with 30-pound Daiwa braided line. He attaches a 3-foot section of 25-pound fluorocarbon leader.

Kittredge slings his big lures with 7- to 8-foot medium spinning rods, like those from G. Loomi . He matches the rod with a Shimano 5000 spinning reel. He likes 40-pound braided main line for its abrasion resistance in the boulders and positive hook-sets. To that he attaches a 4- to 6-foot section of 40-pound fluorocarbon leader using a double uni-knot for the line-to-leader connection.

“Eels cost a lot,” says Kittredge, “and they don’t really work properly when fish are against the rocks in the wave wash in only 2 to 3 feet of water. Plugs produce well in skinny water and rarely get hung up. Plus, you can get out fishing in a moment’s notice with minimal preparation. Best of all, it’s extremely exciting seeing a big fish smack a topwater.”

Dave Bard and I finished our September evening with three big bluefish, about a dozen schoolie bass and one 37-inch trophy. As we ran back across the pond in the fading twilight, we traded waves with tourists on a passing ferry, happy that we were in the smaller vessel, returning from a great boulder-field adventure.

Tips for Safely Fishing Boulder Fields

Casting among island boulders miles from the mainland has its rewards but also its risks. The surf, wind or current can quickly push you into the rocks, causing grounding, hull damage or a busted prop. “The cost of failure is very high,” notes Capt. Merkt. “Twice, with an old engine, I suddenly couldn’t get it started and ended up frantically throwing out an anchor, and both times had the stern swing within feet of a turbulent shore. These aren’t places that inexperienced fishermen should go.”

• Have an anchor handy and ready.
• Never fish alone.
• Anchor or use a trolling motor when fishing in an onshore wind.
• Pay attention, even when you’re fighting the big one.
• Study your chart, know the depth contours and structure, and set up drifts in the safe zone.
• Use your GPS tracking option to monitor and repeat safe drifts.
• Have someone skilled at the helm.
• Leave the motor running during turbulent conditions.
• Keep your engine tilted as high as possible without sucking air.
• Use a telescopic push pole to fend off rocks.
• Learn the waters and structures at high and low tides.
• Wear polarized sunglasses to help watch for rocks.
• Leave a float plan with someone reliable.

The post Catch Striped Bass and Bluefish Near Boulders appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

The lexicon used to describe where anglers fish is confusing, even frustrating. “Inshore” or “coastal” often describes fishing in estuarine waters, at least in my stomping grounds, where fishermen target species like speckled trout, redfish, and flounder in rivers, creeks, and bays. In the Northeast, an “inshore tuna bite” might be 10 miles offshore.

“Offshore” fishing begins once you leave the inlet and make a run for blue water. However, offshore fishing is not dependent on the length of the run to the fishing grounds or how deep the water is — offshore fishing might start just a couple of miles (at ports such as South Florida, Panama or the Bahamas) or hours off your coast.

Even with those broad designations, the fish don’t always cooperate. There are no fences in the salt, so inshore species often leave inside waters for the Gulf and Atlantic. Usually these movements coincide with spawning rituals, an exciting time of year to target oversize specimens, at least for catch-and-release fishermen. So the next time you want to catch a trophy species, consider heading out of brackish areas and into open waters. Think differently on your next trip — consider it a role reversal — and you could score the “inshore” fish of a lifetime offshore.

Catch Snook on Nearshore Wrecks

South Florida fishermen regularly target snook up rivers, on mangrove-lined flats, and in passes and inlets. But not many know that offshore wrecks attract snook each summer, starting as early as late spring.

“My favorite spots average about 5 miles offshore, in anywhere from 20 to 60 feet of water,” says Capt. Glyn Austin, of Sebastian, Florida. “Most people don’t really target them because it’s all catch-and-release fishing June through August. Most people want kingfish or cobia, something they can take home.” Austin says all the fish are all longer than the 32-inch slot maximum, so the oversize linesiders can’t be kept no matter if the season is open or closed.

“Typically I use the same tackle at the wrecks as at the inlets,” says Austin, “a 7- to 8-foot rod, 20- to 40-pound braid, and baits like threadfin herring and pogies.” Austin fishes mostly from Port Canaveral to Sebastian, but snook exhibit the same behavior farther south on both Florida coasts around barges and reefs. “The snook are definitely attracted to structure and hang on the bottom,” says Austin. “We often catch giant jack crevalle, goliath grouper, cobia, redfish, black drum and flounder out there, along with the snook. That’s plenty of species that we see both inshore and offshore.”

Deep Water Flounder Fishing

Heading north along the Atlantic Coast, a different inshore species replaces snook around offshore structure. And this species is available from Florida to the mid-Atlantic states: flounder.

“In spring and especially fall, flounder are available in 60 to 85 feet of water out of St. Augustine and Mayport inlets, about 6 to 15 miles offshore,” says Capt. Stephen Szczepanik, of Mayport, Florida. “Those offshore fish just taste so much better than the inshore fish; it must be something about the sandy bottom they’re sitting on.”

Szczepanik has learned over the years that flounder are more likely to hang near metal structure, such as barges, instead of concrete rubble. The flounder group together in masses around the base, likely preparing or concluding their spawn. Still, Szczepanik admits that most of the flounder he catches and fillets don’t have roe.

“Offshore, an average fish is at least 22 inches and 3 pounds,” he says, “but 8-pound fish are also pretty common. Inshore, an 8-pound flatfish is an uncommon catch.”

One top tactic is vertically jigging a live mullet with a 1-ounce jig, making sure the line stays tight. He specifically shies away from stinky artificials because they attract undersize black sea bass and beeliners (vermilion snapper). Szczepanik prefers to use 20-pound-braid main line for its toughness and ability to cut through the water. Once you hook into a couple of flounder, chances are there are plenty more in the same spot.

“The best days are when it’s flat calm, and you can use a trolling motor to stay on top of the spot,” says Szczepanik. “Mark the structure with your finder, and then throw out a jug to mark the wreck.”

Stripers Near the Beach

Role Reversals

What happens when the biggest inshore fish are off-limits offshore? Chesapeake Bay captains deal with this every winter when targeting monster striped bass.

“In past years, cold winters pushed the bait off the beaches 10 to 15 miles, taking the stripers with them,” says Capt. Jake Hiles, of Virginia Beach. “But because striped bass are designated game fish in federal waters, fishermen can’t target striped bass, even for catch-and-release, in the Exclusive Economic Zone (more than 3 nautical miles offshore).”

The ocean season for migratory stripers ranges from about mid-December to February. Late February into March, the migratory striped bass head up Chesapeake Bay to spawn in the rivers, says Andrew Turner, a fisheries biologist with NOAA’s Chesapeake Bay office. Late May and June see the fish head north of New York to Maine to summer in the cool waters, usually within 3 miles of shore. Over the past couple of seasons, many Virginia anglers have not seen good numbers of stripers like they used to, whether that’s because of migration changes or increased fishing pressure.

When warm winters bring baitfish schools and mature stripers within a mile or two of the beach, Capt. Herb Gordon fishes the eastern shore of Virginia.

“You have to find the birds to find the fish,” says Gordon. “Finding birds is easy with the use of a good radar, one at least 6 kW. The bottom machine helps, but it’s not as dependable as birds. Some areas with structure always hold bait, which in turn, hold fish.”

Gordon usually trolls just four rods, while some of the other charter boats troll as many as 20. “On our rigs, we use double parachutes, 9 ounces each, with rubber 9-inch shads,” he says. “Our lines are staggered to fish different depths, and we also vary our trolling speeds.”

For anglers fishing in and around the mouth of the Chesapeake, it’s a matter of finding rockfish before they head too far offshore.

The post Where to Catch Trophy Inshore Fish appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

If you walk into any Mid-Atlantic or Northeast tackle shop, fishing club or shady dockside bar and start talking about circle hooks, expect some mixed opinions. The Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission rules require anglers to use non-offset circle hooks when fishing bait for striped bass. And some stock assessments show that stripers are still not where they’re supposed to be. Circle hooks reduce release mortality. Despite some circle-hook skepticism, captains and pros have used them for years. They say the conservation-minded hooks work exceptionally well if you know how to rig them.

Fishing With Eeels

In late winter, Capt. Kenny Louderback slow trolls live eels off Virginia’s Eastern Shore. He fishes up to 10 rods, using planer boards to spread out the lines. The tactic produces a lot of slack line between the rod tip and the bait, which can impede striper hookups on circle-hook rigs. To improve his odds, Louderback says he waits until the fish pulls line off the reel before he takes the rod out of the holder. He also uses a lightweight circle-hook rig.

He snells an 8/0 Gamakatsu circle hook to 4 feet of 50-pound fluorocarbon, capped with a 150-pound-test barrel swivel. He slides a small, ½-ounce egg sinker onto his 30-pound monofilament mainline, and then ties the mainline to the swivel, creating a Carolina rig. To control the bait’s depth, he uses a heavier egg sinker. “I want just enough weight to keep my baits just below the surface,” he says.

Eels are slippery and very uncooperative. Given a chance, the slimy worm ties itself in a knot or slinks overboard. Louderback hooks the eel through the nose so it swims straight without tangling the line. Louderback points out that circle hooks improve the release survival of his catch.

Chesapeake Bay Striped Bass

Some years, 70 percent of the world’s striped bass come out of Chesapeake Bay, and Maryland anglers have perfected methods for catching these fish year-round. Capt. Greg Shute favorite time of year to target striped bass occurs in late spring and summer, when he anchors along a drop or channel edge and fishes menhaden chunks and live spot.

To fish cut menhaden, Shute uses a bottom rig with a 6/0 to 8/0 light-wire circle hook, made from narrower, more malleable wire. “I like a light-wire hook because it pierces the fish’s jaw,” he says. He snells the hook to 18 inches of 25-pound fluorocarbon, and ties the leader to a swivel. He threads a fish-finder slide and bank sinker onto his 20-pound-braid mainline, and then ties the mainline to the swivel and leader. Shute lightly passes the hook through a small piece of the chunk bait so the bait doesn’t interfere with the hook gap.

When he uses a live spot, Shute creates the same rig, but leaves out the swivel and sinker. He ties the leader directly to the mainline. “If I need a little extra weight I’ll pinch on a split shot,” he says. He runs the hook through the spot’s back, behind the head and in front of the dorsal fin. “This encourages the bait to swim down,” he explains. It also creates a solid connection without deep-hooking the bait.

New Jersey Cow Striped Bass

Capt. Greg Cudnik targets striped bass off the famed Long Beach Island in central New Jersey. From spring through fall, Cudnik chases striped bass in the ocean, inlet and back bays with live spot, eels and menhaden. To fish a live spot or eel, Cudnik chooses a 5/0 circle hook. For live menhaden, he upsizes to a 9/0 circle hook. He prefers a wide-gap circle hook, like the Mustad 39951, that he can dig a little deeper into the bait.

Cudnik snells the hook to 25 inches of 50-pound fluorocarbon tied to a small, 230-pound-test swivel. He passes his 30-pound braid mainline through a ¾-ounce egg sinker and ties it to the other end of the swivel. He wants to keep the bait on or near the bottom with as little weight as possible. “I don’t want the fish to feel the weight,” he says.

When he fishes live spot, Cudnik hooks the bait in the mouth and out the cheek plate for a solid connection. He hooks a live menhaden near the tail. “The tail presents a solid place to insert the hook,” he explains, adding the bait swims naturally and the tail doesn’t inhibit the hook gap. Cudnik particularly recommends circle hooks to new anglers. “People who haven’t learned how to use a J-hook have an easier time with a circle hook,” he says. Keep steady pressure on the line, and the hook will find its home, he adds.

New England Stripers

Fishing out of Rhode Island, Capt. Jack Sprengel has made a science of using circle hooks for striped bass. “I’ve been using circle hooks for years because they actually make it easier to hook a big bass,” he says. Sprengel starts the day catching menhaden with a cast net, gill net or snag rig. With live bait onboard, he heads off looking for bait schools and structure in Narragansett Bay. “When the current is moving, I drift the baits, and when it drops out I bump troll,” he says.

To handle a huge striped bass, Sprengel breaks out a 6000 size reel. He spools the reel with 30-pound PowerPro. “I like traditional four-carrier braid,” Sprengel says, preferring the heavier, more abrasion-resistant line to keep a 50-pound trophy out of the rocks.

The sturdy tackle allows Sprengel to put smooth pressure on a big striper with a light, 25-pound-test fluorocarbon leader. He uses a 30-inch leader in dirty water and 48 inches in clear water. To further reduce distractions for the fish, Sprengel attaches the leader directly to the mainline.

Hook size plays a critical role in success. As a rule of thumb, Sprengel chooses a circle hook that’s 30 percent larger than the appropriate-size J-hook. A larger hook allows him to hook the bait deeper with plenty of gap to catch the striper’s jaw.

Sprengel has tested his knots for effectiveness and prefers to attach his hook with a Palomar or uni-knot. “The knot allows the hook to pivot,” he says, explaining that when the circle hook pulls into the corner of the striper’s mouth, the hook pivots to drive the point into the fish’s jaw. He also improves the circle hook’s efficacy by lightly hooking the bait. “Bridling is the best,” he says. Use floss to lash the bait to the hook, providing a strong connection without interfering with the hook gap.

The post Best Circle Hook Rigs for Striped Bass appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

A couple of years ago, fishing partner Elliott Taylor and I drifted atop a conveyor belt of saltwater on the lower Connecticut River in Old Saybrook, Connecticut. As I cast a surface plug off the stern, we heard a whooshing noise like a bucket of water dumped into the river. I turned to see the lingering froth left by a big predator. Slammer bluefish and striped bass had invaded the river mouth, and we were poised for some wild battles that afternoon.

The lower or most-southerly portion of the Connecticut River is saltwater, and it separates the coastal towns of Old Saybrook on its western bank from Old Lyme on its eastern bank. The last seven miles of the river is a striper and bluefish haven, thanks to the abundance of bait in this large estuary.

North of the Bridge

Hamburg Cove lies 4 miles north of the Interstate 95 boat launch and bridge. This special cove is one of the first Northeast locales to hold feeding stripers each spring, and its schoolie fishery is world-class: a sure cure for cabin fever from mid-March to mid-April before action heats up farther downriver and in Long Island Sound. (Note: Fishing north of the I-95 bridge requires a freshwater/inland or all waters fishing license.)

After late April, the cove’s schoolies swim into the main river and downstream to the mouth and eventually into open water, where they mingle with adult bass. Located on the east side of the river, the cove is protected on three sides by hills and sheltered from raw spring winds. Hamburg Cove also appeals to boating anglers because it lacks prop-bending obstacles like rocks yet it’s shallow enough for fly or light spin tackle.

The stripers found here in early spring generally measure 14 to 20 inches. Numbers, not size, becomes the objective. Fan cast or troll small lures or tubes until you locate a school. Stop and drift with the fish to catch 50 to 75 fish on a given tide.

If you prefer to target bigger fish, large stripers do invade the north side of I-95. At one perennial hotspot—day marker 25 at the lower mouth of South Cove, which is on the west side of the river halfway between Hamburg Cove and the I-95 Bridge—bass in the 30- to 40-inch range set up to feed on herring, alewives, and menhaden starting in late April and running through June.

Motor 50 yards north of the marker on a running tide and drift south along the reef edge, fishing deep with large swimming plugs. During slow current periods, these fish sometimes come up and inhale surface plugs like the 5-inch Rapala Skitter Pop or the 7-inch Lil’ Doc. Beginning in late May, bluefish mix in and provide hard-hitting action as they follow menhaden schools in from the ocean.

South of the Bridge

Downriver and south of the I-95 Bridge, an excellent late-spring fishery starts at the northern confluence of the Back and Connecticut rivers, in an area called the Wood Lot. Here you can idle into a transition zone where the depth quickly changes from 4 to 10 feet. But do so quietly to prevent spooking the fish, especially on calm days.

Cast a medium-fast spinning outfit toward the shelf, and retrieve a soft plastic, like the Game On! Big Occhi, or a surface plug across the drop-off. Drift with the current and continue fan casting until you locate a pod of bass. The fish typically stalk the shallows, but you should explore the deep side too.

If you don’t find fish or when the bite wanes, motor south to Gibraltar Rocks—three large, clearly defined boulder fields. Anchor up, but heed your chart plotter and be cautious of subsurface rocks. Cast up or across current and retrieve just fast enough to keep a small swimming plug or metal lure from hanging bottom. Schoolie bass and hickory shad await prey in the slower and deeper water.

Farther seaward and just east of Buoy 10 lie Sodom Rocks, another perennial hotspot. Continue south from there to find another cluster of rocks and a small marsh island to cast to just east of Buoy 8. Griswold Piers, just south of Buoy 8, is a fishy area punctuated by three small rips. Finally, at the river mouth, cast to sandbars and the breakwaters, which provide good action on an ebb tide.

On a flood tide, work back upriver toward the Wood Lot. Begin by fishing the Great Island shore just north of Poverty Point, this time in the shallow 3-foot zone within casting distance of shore. From there, try spots like Great Island (south of the bridge) or Calves Island (north of the bridge).

If you’re new to fishing this area, be cautious of rock piles out of the main channel in the lower river, many of which are the remains from the days of haul seining. While these boulders attract fish, they can badly damage an outboard.

On the west side of the river lies Ragged Rock Creek and a rocky bar. These areas produce from late April into early summer. Some spots are shallow, but the area is lightly fished compared with others. Slightly downriver you’ll find a bridge and North Cove, which offers more structure than the Old Lyme side. This lower waterway near the main channel hosts monster bluefish in late spring and late summer as they maraud schools of adult menhaden. A large surface plug brings exciting topwater action during low light, when baitfish schools draw bluefish from Long Island Sound.

Whether fishing or just exploring the lower Connecticut River by boat, the beauty and diversity of this huge estuary is hard to match anywhere in the Northeast. Bluefish, striped bass, and baitfish are abundant, and you can usually fish the river when conditions on Long Island Sound are too windy.

The post Spring Striper and Bluefish Action Awaits on the Lower Connecticut River appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Striped Bass: 81 pounds, 14 ounces

• Gregory Myerson
• Long Island Sound, Connecticut
• August, 4 2011

Who better to ask about the next World Record striped bass than the current record holder. It’s been over a decade since Greg Myerson caught one of the world’s most famous fish and he’s ready to set the next mark. “If they ever lift the slot limit, I’ll catch the next world record, too,” he says. His boasts aren’t hot air, Myerson holds the several striped bass records and striper tournament trophies. Myerson credits the deep ocean bottom and strong tidal currents off Connecticut and Rhode Island for bringing a steady stream of bait and big bass. “Big bass don’t like to move a lot so they are looking for a live lobster.” Myerson even predicts how the next world record bass will be caught; he has developed a rattling sinker that imitates the sound of a startled lobster. “The fish hears the sound and comes to investigate, that’s where he finds my eel.”

Red Drum: 94 pounds 2 ounces

• David Deuel
• Avon, North Carolina
• November 07, 1984

Forty years ago, Frank Folb was working at the tackle shop that weighed the World Record red drum. Today, Folb has retired from tackle shops and taken up gardening, but he remembers the day the world’s biggest red drum was hanging from the scale. “Gosh, it was a fat fish,” he recalls. He says David Deuel fought the trophy drum down the Hatteras Island beach almost a mile before landing it. Due to the current slot limit on redfish, the red drum record will most likely never be broken. Back in the heyday of beach drum fishing, Folb rigged up a mobile scale to weigh a potential record on the beach. “We never had a fish large enough to break the mark,” he says. Folb has heard credible stories of redfish passing the length and girth test, but the fish were released. Despite the difficulty in setting a red drum record, Folb believes a 100-pound redfish is swimming somewhere off the Virginia or North Carolina coast.

Common Snook: 53 pounds, 10 ounces

• Gilbert Ponzi
• Parismina Ranch, Costa Rica
• October 18, 1978

The oldest record on the list is one of the most coveted. While Florida accounts for the largest population of snook anglers, Costa Rica holds the all tackle world record. Stuart-based Capt. Mike Holliday has landed snook up to 40 pounds, but beating the record in his home waters is almost impossible to imagine. “The next record will come from Costa Rica,” he says. Holliday explains the warm Latin American climate allows the snook to feed year-round and reach extraordinary size. Why hasn’t a bigger fish been caught in Costa Rica? Holliday says the fish in the 1970s and 80s were bigger. “People used to brag about the 40-pound club, now they brag about the 40-inch club.” Once again, fishing regulations are the biggest obstacle to breaking the record. Slot limits throughout the snook’s range keep the record safe from American anglers.

Spotted Seatrout: 17 pounds, 7 ounces

• Craig F. Carson
• Ft. Pierce, Florida
• May 11, 1995

Capt. Mike Holliday has personal experience with the World Record spotted sea trout. “I interviewed the guy who caught it,” he remembers. The long-time contributor to local and nationwide publications was on the beat when the fish was caught. “Craig Carson was visiting from Daytona and caught the fish on a Zara Spook off Dynamite Point.” Even though he didn’t witness the weigh-in or see the actual fish, looking at photos of the catch gives Holliday suspicions. “It doesn’t look like a 17-pound trout,” he insists. And the angler weighed the fish on a grocery store scale. And then there’s the incredible size. Holliday shakes his head, “I’ve never heard of a trout even close to 17 pounds.” The speckled trout record has stood for almost 30 years and Holliday thinks it will never be broken. “I’ve fished the same area for decades and caught one fish over 13 pounds,” he says.

Tarpon: 286 pounds, 9 ounces

• Max Domecq Rubane
• Guinea-Bissou
• March, 4 2003

Close your eyes and picture a 300-pound tarpon jumping through the air, diving under the boat and rolling on the line and you’ll understand the difficulty in breaking the silver king’s world-record mark. Zack Bellipigna, angler recognition manager at IGFA, is confident the record can be broken. “As sure as I’m sitting in my chair, there is a 300-pound tarpon swimming off the coast of Africa right now,” he insists. Bellipigna attributes the long-standing record to a lack of angler interest. “Hardcore tarpon anglers are more interested in setting line-class records in the Keys or along the Gulf Coast than going to Africa and catching a giant tarpon.” Bellipigna says IGFA’s Grand Slam awards are also seeing a lot of interest. “Catching a tarpon and two other trophy species in one day is a hell of an achievement but it is achievable.” Still, many of the line class records pale in comparison to the massive 286-pound beast.

The post Waiting for a World Record appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Still sipping Starbucks, we ease out of the New York Skyport Marina, the primary seaplane base for Manhattan, tucked in next to FDR Drive at East 23rd Street. It’s a gorgeous summer morning, just one day before the July Fourth holiday — the sort of morning when one wouldn’t mind a long run, but that’s just not necessary. In fact, in little more than five minutes, Capt. Tony DiLernia is anchoring up his boat in the East River.

Although we’re there to fish, we out-of-towners can’t stop gaping at the magnificent skyline view of the Big Apple against the clear blue sky. Meanwhile, DiLernia has idled down in the gentle current in one of his favorite go-to spots, just off the United Nations building. As he ties off the anchor and the boat swings tight, he points to the top of one of the skyscrapers. “That’s where the big fight scene in Spider‑Man was filmed,” he says.

But immediately, he turns his attention to the task at hand, chunking up fresh bunker (menhaden) and threading them onto circle hooks. The fact that DiLernia’s been doing this for not years but decades is evident: Within an hour or so, we have missed a strike and had two good fish on, one coming off midway through the fight and the other right at the boat. Fortunately, our fourth time was the charm, giving us the chance to admire in the net a striped bass just south of 30 pounds.

Pogy Pointers

DiLernia’s Rocket Charters offers anglers a unique experience both by virtue of its prime location (the dock is accessible to anglers via a short taxi ride from most of Manhattan; then, the fishing grounds are but a very short ride away) and by its skipper. No one knows the busy, current-swept waters around New York — after so many years of navigating and fishing them by day and night — better than DiLernia.

DiLernia is not only a consummate skipper, but a savvy master of striped bass fishing as well. On that basis, I thought I’d see if I could pick up a few pointers on how DiLernia connects with some very hefty bass (he’s caught them better than 50 pounds).

Bait accounts for roughly 80 percent of the stripers taken on Rocket Charters. When we fished with DiLernia in early July, the options were menhaden, menhaden or menhaden. The oily baitfish remains his offering of choice until eel fishing starts in the fall. And it was very fresh. That, says DiLernia, is key.

“Frozen bunker’s okay for blues, but not so great for bass,” he says. You can, however, use your fresh bait a second or even third day by putting them in a brine with kosher salt.

Breakaway Baits

The skipper prefers chunks to whole fish and, at that, always likes the head best. His hook of choice: an Eagle Claw 10/0 circle sea hook. What DiLernia especially appreciates about circles is that they allow him to fish with reels in gear. Often currents get strong enough that the coefficient of friction of a reel in free spool with clicker on isn’t enough to keep lines from running out. With circle hooks, that’s not a problem, nor is hooking fish, as a rule. DiLernia runs the circle hook through the top of the head where it was sliced from the body.

“Lots of guys will put the hook through the lips,” DiLernia says. But when a fish grabs the bait, he explains, it’s likely to stay on the hook. DiLernia hooks it to come off and get out of the way. “It ought to tear out easily so the hook comes out of the bait’s head when the striper is swimming away with it. Then the hook should slide into the fish’s jaw hinge,” he explains. “And that’s just what usually happens.”

When no head is available, he’ll go to a body chunk — but his pièce de résistance is adding the pogy’s heart onto the hook. “I’m convinced the blood in the heart attracts stripers,” he says simply.

Timing the Tides

According to DiLernia, spring through midsummer is prime time for bunker fishing. Tides are always a prime factor for him, and in this case, he wants to be anchored up and fishing about a half-hour after the high slack tide: The next couple of hours, with boat and baits sitting still in the moderate current, will produce the hottest bite.

Then, well into the ebb, the current will be running too fast to hold bottom without ungodly amounts of weight. “That’s when we drift and bounce lead-heads on the bottom until late in the ebb when the current slows. Then we’ll go back to fishing bait at anchor.”

Once the tide nears slack, and the boat starts swinging on the anchor “so the baits slide all over the bottom,” it’s time to troll deep divers. DiLernia’s choice of lures: big Mann’s Stretch or Stretch Plus and Yo-Zuri Hydro Magnum Deep Divers. Usually, he’ll do this just until shortly after the tide turns: Then the cycle begins again with a couple of hours fishing bait.

DiLernia notes that tides vary tremendously around New York. For example, depending on the tidal pattern, he might fish the East River for the first hour and a half of the ebb, and then run quickly down to the Hudson River to fish off the Statue of Liberty, catching the early ebb there. By the time the current’s starting to get too strong there, the East River is just ­beginning to slow down again.

DiLernia proudly holds up the big, complex-looking watch on his wrist. “It’s a Reactor Graviton,” and he says it’s been a huge factor in maximizing his efficiency fishing the area per tidal flow. It’s programmed to tell him just what the tide is doing at any day, any moment, in the East River, the Hudson, Sandy Hook and West Sound.

Fall for Eels

Though early July is a great time to fish the Big Apple for bass, DiLernia’s season continues through early November (after which it’s too cold and “time to go hunting,” he says). As summer wanes, DiLernia drifts mostly eels. “They’re migrating then, so it’s a good time to match the hatch.” This is a drifting show and somewhat less tide-critical. And not anchoring allows DiLernia to fish productive areas that include shipping channels.

DiLernia offers eel fishermen a tip regarding the inevitable struggle to get a hook through a writhing eel: “Snap its tail on the rail. For whatever reason, this disables it momentarily but doesn’t kill it.” Some anglers give that love tap to the eel’s head; that will disable it, but sometimes for good.

“This area around New York is highly productive because it’s at the nexus of some stripers’ ­migration routes, and it’s ecologically productive in its own right,” says John Waldman, professor of biology at Queens College (and author of Heartbeats in the Muck: The History, Sea Life and Environment of New York Harbor). “Also, adult spawners of the Hudson stock, which winter in the open ocean, come into the Hudson to spawn, and so are available in New York Harbor.” Bass from Chesapeake and Delaware Bay stocks migrate north in spring and also enter the mix, Waldman says.

The post NYC Striper Hunt appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Most of us are familiar with the adage, “All fishermen are liars.” But occasionally an outing is so grand, you don’t need to lie about it. We actually had such a day, starting with the first trip of the year in late spring. A light southwest breeze tufted western Long Island Sound as my buddy Elliott Taylor and I accelerated out of Branford Harbor from the Connecticut shore. We made a turn to the south and headed toward Branford Reef, 4 miles away. As we closed within a half-mile of our ­destination, we spotted the unbelievable: a 50-acre swath of working birds and breaking fish. And only two other boats were on them.

By the time we had reached the ledge and motored up-current of the structure, the depth-finder screen showed almost solid red from all the life below us, and schoolie striped bass were busting all around. For once, pinpointing a rip’s “sweet spot” didn’t matter — the entire expanse was one giant sweet spot, and we scrambled to get our tackle in the water as if we might miss the bite.

Taylor grabbed his spinning outfit and flung a large, chrome spoon into the nearest melee while I went with my light conventional outfit rigged with a 4-ounce diamond jig below a soft-plastic dropper. I free-spooled toward the bottom but never reached it.

And it was amazing. We were drifting across an area that held a mass of small stripers stacked like cords of firewood. The bottom composition and depth didn’t matter, with baitfish dispersed throughout the water column. Almost every drop or cast produced multiple hits, so it became a challenge to retrieve a lure without catching a fish. This fishery, as in other recent years, lasted most of the season.

“On Veterans Day,” says Connecticut marine fisheries biologist Justin Davis, Ph.D., “I took a trip out of Niantic in eastern Long Island Sound. The birds and fish started about halfway out of the bay and continued east almost to the mouth of the Thames River in New London — about 3½ miles. It was incredible. There were schools of thousands of fish all over the place. A couple of times, I just stopped casting and stood on the bow to watch.”

Even the most dedicated trophy-bass angler would abandon his hunt for the amazing action that school-size fish can offer, for those who know how to find them.

Catching Schoolie Striped Bass

“Schoolie” bass earn their nickname because small stripers feed and travel in coherent schools. Once they reach the 3-foot-long range, they gradually become more independent, and true trophies, or “cows,” are solitary, opportunistic predators.

“When the bite is on,” says Capt. Dixon Merkt, who — who is retired after guiding for more than 45 years out of Old Lyme, Connecticut — now fishes for fun, “the number you can catch is almost unlimited. But you’re not casting to individual fish; you’re seeking schools where you get hits cast after cast after cast. These bass are cookie-cutter fish where volume is your objective, not size. Reports of two anglers releasing 75 to 100 fish on one tide aren’t uncommon.”

Unlike other inshore species in southern New England, such as bluefish and tautog, schoolies — loosely defined as those stripers up to the 28-inch minimum legal length — are active before the water temperature reaches 50 degrees, and these fish stay active well below the 50-degree point in late fall. This is a largely untapped sporting opportunity for anglers looking for early- and late-season action to replace dwindling numbers of cool-water targets such as cow bass, winter flounder and blackfish.

“In spring,” says Capt. Chris Elser, an expert with nearly 30 years of guiding experience, “most of the schoolie stripers near my home port of Stratford [Connecticut] are products of the resident Housatonic River holdover fishery, but we do see migratory fish arriving by mid- to late May most years. Late in the season, I’ve had crazy action in open water as late as the middle of December. Of course, that’s weather permitting — some seasons have started late or been cut short by cold and wind.”

Elser continues: “We’ve had excellent action on light tackle outside the river between West Haven and Norwalk, where we’ve found huge schools of 12- to 28-inch stripers in 30 to 50 feet of water. They’re feeding near the surface on small baits. The birds are the clue, and they make it easy to find the fish. On a good day, we can land more than 100 bass.”

Striped Bass Populations

Anglers, guides and biologists have observed a recent and troubling decline in big-bass numbers since their resurgence 20 years ago. Several factors are implicated, including black-market harvesting, excessive commercial landings, lack of adult menhaden, mycobacteriosis disease, a shift in migration patterns, environmental factors, and predatory seals.

“I still see large bass in our region,” Elser says, “but they’re not as widespread as years ago, and there aren’t as many 30-plus-pound fish. Also, more big fish are migrating via the South Shore side of Long Island versus passing through Long Island Sound. But I believe the current limit is OK to keep the population healthy. Most of the anglers I know practice catch-and-release for stripers of all sizes, though I see nothing wrong with taking a good eating-size fish — which sometimes mix with the schoolies — home for the table. The big breeders should be quickly and carefully released.”

Forage Species

So many schoolie predators in an area require an abundance of small prey, which southern New England has been fortunate to be able to provide. Bass target what’s available, and the forage base changes by season and region.

“In western Long Island Sound,” Elser says, “as May rolls in, so do sand eels, the primary bait source creating the inshore fishery that light-tackle anglers crave. The fall fishery depends on the arrival of peanut bunker and bay anchovies, and we’ve had consistent schoolie striper action for many years now during late September through the end of October. From November into December, when the weather allows, herring, butterfish and occasionally mullet keep schoolie and larger bass interested.”

The usual summer doldrums didn’t set in this past season in eastern Long Island Sound, with a mass of tens of thousands of schoolie bass staging in the famous Sluiceway, a rip at the mouth of the sound, through late July. This remained a closely guarded secret for the first few weeks. “They were on small herring in the Sluiceway,” says Capt. Dan Wood, a longtime top guide in the eastern sound. “It was a wonderful opportunity for experienced and inexperienced customers to get into great action. They didn’t need to cast well or far to reach the fish.”

Along the big islands such as Block and Nantucket, types of baitfish similarly vary. “Our primary forage for bass is sand eels in spring and fall,” Willi says, “and we have squid throughout the season. Silversides move in during August into September to round out the feast.”

Striped Bass Lures the Pros Prefer

Almost any baitfish imitation produces strikes during a frenzy, but schoolies can be selective at times, and every pro has his or her favorite artificials for drawing bites.

“My all-time favorite lure,” Elser says, “is a 6- to 7½-inch Slug-Go on a light jig head. I also entice them with a 7½-inch unweighted Slug-Go, working it on the surface, rod tip up, with a walk-the-dog presentation, making a slight wake in the surface film. For anglers new to working soft plastics, I switch to hard crank baits such as the 5½-inch Rapala X-Rap. I prefer white or bone color for my artificials.

“I also enjoy working the surface with the Stillwater Smack-It popper,” Elser adds. “Last on my must-have list is a ½-ounce chartreuse Rat-L-Trap. The latter two work great when the bass are feeding on peanut bunker. When the sand eels arrive, my go-to soft plastic is a 4.6-inch Hogy Sand Eel on a weighted, 3/8-ounce swimbait hook.”

At Block Island, Willi has his schoolie favorites too. “Eighty percent of our fishing is with soft plastics due to the sand eel presence,” he says. “My go-to is the Bill Hurley Cape Cod Sand Eel in olive. We also favor the 6-inch Slug-Go in rainbow trout and the RonZ in olive.” For topwater action, I like the Rebel Jumpin Minnow and Heddon Super Spook, both in bone. For swimmers, we toss a yellow or silver Magnum Bomber or a Daiwa Salt Pro Minnow.”

Tins also produce well consistently. My friend Taylor and I like flinging flat metals such as large Kastmasters or Hopkins jigs, which resemble peanut bunker, a primary forage species in bays and estuaries. Tins cast well in a stiff breeze, and hold up to small bluefish when they enter the mix.

“If you’re not having much success with a standard lure,” Merkt says, “I suggest tying a dropper fly off the leader. It simulates a baitfish chasing a smaller prey and sometimes dramatically increases productivity. The fly often outproduces the lure, and sometimes we get doubles on the same rig. For dropper flies, I like chartreuse Clouser Minnows.”

Running the Reefs for Striped Bass

If you’re on the hunt for schoolie bass but they’re not showing on top, the most consistent place to find them is near the bottom on shallow reefs within about 4 miles of the mainland.

Pinpoint structure where the depth rises and falls abruptly. During a moving tide, motor up-current of the rip line while watching your depth finder. When the reef disappears into flat bottom, cut the motor and drift back toward the rip line.

Free-spool a small diamond or lead‑head bucktail jig until it bumps bottom, then immediately engage the reel. Retrieve a diamond about 10 cranks, drop back down, and repeat. With bucktails, pros use a standard yo-yo motion bouncing along the structure. Continue drifting until you’ve cleared the hump and covered the down-tide side of the reef. Bass often strike as the lure flutters toward the bottom, so be ready for a quick set.

Increase your chance of action by rigging any soft plastic on a 3/0 bait-holder hook attached to a dropper 12 to 18 inches above a diamond jig to simulate the predator-prey visual that Merkt suggests with dropper hook with fly. Doubles aren’t uncommon with this rig.

A good jigging outfit is a medium-action, 6½-foot rod attached to a small conventional reel like a Shimano Tekota 300 or 500. Spool it with smooth, 20-pound braid, and tie on 3 feet of 30-pound mono leader.

Back in Branford that late spring day, Taylor and I lost count after the first 30 fish, and we spent the next two hours motoring from one busting pod to the next, fighting ravenous stripers, and stopping only to change leaders or take a slug of iced tea. I’d say we released 70-plus schoolies on that tide, while keeping two 28-inchers for the skillet. And that’s no fish tale.

The post Fast Spring and Fall Fishing for Striped Bass appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.