A giant striper on the fly will make you overlook about trout streams for some time.
Picture by Sandy Hays
The small New Hampshire city the place I grew up is inside an hour’s drive of a few of northeastern New England’s finest striper fishing. But, as an alternative of exploring the waters of Plum Island, Cape Ann, or Nice Bay, I selected to hone my fly-rod abilities by casting for eight-inch stocked trout in native ponds and streams. These had been the quintessential “rubber” fish, and it was typically arduous to inform if the tug on the tip of your line was a trout or a stick caught within the present. Every time I bought a hankering to catch a extremely massive fish, I’d drive 3 1/2 hours north to the Androscoggin River. There I might catch an occasional 15-inch brown trout, and, if the wind was proper, I’d keep away from the sulfurous stench of the Berlin paper manufacturing unit.
I’m embarrassed to say that nothing modified once I moved to New Jersey after school. Though your entire Jersey shore—tons of of miles of shoreline from Hoboken to Cape Could—is a Mecca for saltwater anglers, I by no means as soon as moist my line within the salt throughout the seven years I lived there. As an alternative, I might throw my rods within the automotive and head west to the South Department of the Raritan River, hoping to discover a piece of water that hadn’t already been flogged to a froth by a dozen anglers that day. There have been instances when the river regarded like one thing out of a photograph from the California Gold Rush—so crowded that it was unattainable to wade in with out virtually standing on prime of one other fisherman. In these conditions, I’d merely drive again residence and unload my gear, by no means contemplating that 20 minutes to the east lay the striper-filled waters round Sandy Hook.
On the time, I spent my summers working as a information in Alaska, and it was there that I first skilled the joys of a 20-pound fish tearing line off my reel. I beloved pitting my fly-fishing abilities in opposition to the ability of huge king salmon, contemporary from the ocean. However once I returned to New Jersey every fall, simply because the striper run was beginning to decide up alongside the seashores, I’d put the 9-weight within the closet and head again to the trout streams to see if I might elbow my approach onto the water.
It merely by no means occurred to me that there have been a lot larger—and far more durable—sport fish to be caught in salt water. Even after I used to be given a duplicate of Lou Tabory’s Inshore Fly Fishing, I couldn’t get previous my fundamental prejudices: the seashore was a spot for scoping babes and using waves, not for fly fishing. Maybe my lack of curiosity in saltwater species stemmed from my solely childhood ocean-fishing expertise, once I spent a complete day standing on a heavily-trafficked bridge to catch a one-pound pollock on a surf rod as thick as my forearm. Some enjoyable.
I need to admit that the ocean intimidated me. Once I was 12 years previous, I noticed Jaws, and ever since I’ve been cautious of something that swims the briny deep. (A childhood run-in with a dogfish solely confirmed my worst fears.) As a fisherman, I used to be intimidated by the obvious featurelessness of the ocean. On a river, I might have a look at riffles, swimming pools, and eddies and determine the locations the place fish would more than likely be; I might perceive the construction of the surroundings. However the ocean was huge, uncharted territory, and I assumed that the one approach you caught fish in it was by chumming them up or by dropping bait on the underside and hoping one thing swam by.
That every one modified about 20 years in the past, once I spent a summer time weekend on Cape Cod with my siblings and their households. Just a few days earlier than the journey, my older brother—who had been a striper fisherman for years—known as to inform me that I ought to pack my fly-fishing gear. I used to be skeptical, however he talked me into it, assuring me that not solely had been there fish to be caught, however that fishing would even be an excuse to flee a houseful of hyperactive rugrats. It’s arduous to argue in opposition to that type of logic.
On our first night there, he recommended that we stroll all the way down to the seashore to forged for stripers. I’m an excellent sport, so I went alongside, by no means contemplating that we’d truly catch something. The flies that he lent me wouldn’t slot in any of my fly bins, so I carried them in a Zip-Loc bag.
Saltwater information Capt. Aron Cascone affords some recommendation on the flats of Ninigret Pond in Rhode Island.
Picture by Sandy Hays
After what appeared an interminable hike to the tip of a slender spit, we rigged up and waded into the water. One of many first issues that I observed was the stiff present working by way of the hole created by the spit and the alternative shore. What I had assumed could be nothing however featureless ocean regarded, in reality, quite a bit just like the rivers I used to be accustomed to fishing. I acknowledged present seams, eddies, and adjustments in depth the place fish had been in all probability holding. (If I’d given Tabory’s e book greater than only a cursory studying, this wouldn’t have been such a revelation, after all.)
I forged upstream, permitting the fly and the road time to sink, and retrieved the fly rapidly as quickly because it bought downcurrent of me. On the third forged, I felt a thump after which resistance. It was a tiny striper, not more than 12 inches, and it was simply overpowered by the 9-weight rod. However nonetheless, it was a fish. Not dangerous for a novice. Two casts later, a barely larger fish whacked the fly. “That is simple,” I assumed. As at all times, that type of vanity was a giant mistake: I didn’t get a lot as a bump for the remainder of the night time.
I can’t say that I used to be hooked—neither fish had put a lot of a bend within the 9-weight rod—however I used to be actually intrigued. The notion that I might truly catch fish from the ocean abruptly opened up my thoughts to fantasies of touchdown a 30-inch striper after which holding it up in my brother’s face. I wanted extra info, so I went again to Inshore Fly Fishing and I began studying these journal articles on saltwater fishing that I used to skip over.
Armed with a little bit information gleaned from fishing writers, I headed off to Martha’s Winery to participate within the annual Striped Bass & Bluefish Derby in September. Positive, I’d by no means caught a striper over 15 inches, however I felt that my odds had been good, what with newbie’s luck and all. Plus, I’d get to hang around with some skilled saltwater fly fishermen, and I might be taught the ropes.
The very first thing I realized is that fishing for saltwater species and fishing for anadromous salmon have one thing in widespread: typically the fish merely aren’t there. That one night on Cape Cod had clearly used up no matter newbie’s luck I had, as a result of the 5 anglers in our occasion thrashed the surf, the bays, and the inlets of the Winery for 3 days and produced precisely one striped bass. Since I used to be accustomed to not catching fish within the streams of New Jersey, the idea of being shutout wasn’t all that novel. Moderately than being discouraged, I discovered that I loved the entire expertise.
Regardless of the poor fishing, that journey taught me a number of essential issues: I realized that I like being within the ocean at night time, when the air is calm and the lights of homes alongside the shore appear like a string of stars. I just like the mild rhythms of blind-casting into the darkness, the anticipation of a strike on each forged. And I like overcoming my infantile fears of the deep—shining my flashlight into the water to see the minnows, sand eels, and no matter swims by. (I don’t know if I’ll really feel the identical approach if I ever do see one other dogfish, however I hope so.)
It was a number of years earlier than I caught my first “keeper” striped bass, however there have been tons of schoolies and “nearly” fish in between. I’ve since caught stripers from Maine’s Sebasco Harbor to the waters off Rhode Island’s Level Judith to Chesapeake Bay. I can’t consider it took so lengthy to recover from my trout-fisherman’s prejudices. Don’t make the identical mistake. Get on on the market this summer time, when you can.
