Money Fish

The annual WICC Greatest Bluefish Tournament on Earth is less than a month away. Though I've never entered before (not owning a boat doesn't help), I have daydreamed about getting the $25,000 payday for reeling in a gorilla bluefish. The last four tournaments have seen winning fish weighing between 17 and 17.88-pounds. Those are serious choppers. The western Sound is usually in the running for the tournament winner and chunking with fresh bunker in deep water is a good way to connect with a contender this time of year. That's exactly what a friend and I did one night this week after a few days of stiff wind finally subsided. We had only two hits all night that resulted in one break off and one hell of a fish landed--a monster blue that pulled down my Boga comfortably past the 16-pound mark. A few more weeks of gorging on adult menhaden and that's probably a money fish in this year's tournament. After an incredible fight, I released it back in 60 feet of water somewhere in western Long Island Sound. Go get that $25,000 fish!

Autumn Action

With fall flying by and Christmas commercials already airing, the time is now to make those last saltwater trips before another winter sets in. As a devout Red Sox fan, much of my October was spent glued to a television set instead of on the water, but I managed to sneak in a few outings in the midst of an unforgettable MLB postseason. A couple of weeks ago, my friend Captain Mike Roy of Reel Cast Charters invited me on a predawn excursion in western Long Island Sound. Usually our trips together involve late nights out east, so getting up early and staying local was a nice change of pace. The plan was to take his boat to some spots we typically surf fish from and throw eels until sun up, which would signal the time to switch over to lures for a chance at surface action. But you know what they say about best laid plans...

Right after launching the boat, we were treated to telltale signs of bunker slapping the surface and snagged a half dozen to put in Mike's live well for good measure. We then motored out of the harbor and stuck to our game plan, but little did we know that we'd be back to the same spot an hour later desperately searching for more of the oily baitfish. After casting eels and top-water lures came up fruitless, Mike threw out a lively bunker to see what was what. It didn't take long for his bait to do a nervous dance on the surface, followed by the unmistakable crash of a striped bass engulfing it. That was all I needed to make the switch over to live bunker and the same sequence of events happened to me only moments later. It was lock and load for the next half hour with stripers up to 23-pounds making short work of our limited bait supply. After running out of bunker, we changed back over to eels trying to duplicate the results, but the fish were keyed in on something we didn't have anymore. So the executive decision was made to hurry back to the harbor, snag more bait and pray the bite was still going upon our return. 

By now the sun was high in the sky and boat traffic had increased significantly, so the bunker were much harder to find the second time around. We were lucky to snag six more for the live well, returned to the scene as fast as we could and immediately experienced the same results, except the bass were exchanged for giant bluefish, the biggest we both had caught in years. They were incredibly thick and strong, putting up amazing fights and pulling the scale down to the 15-pound mark! After the wave of blues, a few bass toyed with the last of our bunker and when the tide died the bite died, and it was finally time to switch gears.

It's hard to admit, but I had never fished for blackfish from a boat before so a trip of this kind was way overdue. Mike had a bucket of Asian grabs that he collected at low tide a few days earlier and we anchored at one of his favorite shallow water rock piles and it was lights out action until we had our fill. There were plenty of short fish mixed in, but we managed our limit of keepers and had a blast doing it. Tautog fight like bulldogs and you really have to horse them off the rocky bottom before getting broken off or snagged. I can only imagine what catching a double digit-sized one must feel like after the fights these "small" four and five pounders put up. Mike already had enough meat in his freezer, so I took all the fillets home for the family and cooked it the next night to the delight of everyone at the table. It was a delicious meal that was fun and relatively easy to catch. The combination of landing striped bass and giant bluefish on live bunker followed by a hot blackfish bite made for an incredibly memorable fall day on the water--one that I'll surely look back on when I'm sitting in an ice hut this winter waiting for flags to pop. 

October Blues

It may not have been our target species, but this big bluefish kept us from going home with the smell of skunk on a crisp October night. Conditions were ideal and our confidence high, yet no striped bass wanted to cooperate. The lone blue hit right at my feet, serving as a stern reminder to always fish my offerings all the way in. I basically gave up on that retrieve while my live eel was still 10 yards away from me and started reeling quickly to get another cast off. The gator blue exploded on my bait a rod's length from me and a wild fight was underway with a mighty foe against a strong current. 

There are still few solid weeks left of the so-called "fall run" in these parts, although they will fly by fast. With any luck I will get to hear the sweet sound of a screaming drag a couple more times before the surf season is all said and done for another year. 

Photo credit: Derrick Kirkpatrick

Sunset Blues

If there was ever a perfect time to be boat fisherman, it is during the dog days of summer when the relentless heat has most striped bass and bluefish hanging in deeper water. Surf fishing has been brutal as of late around here, so when a friend asked if I was up for a boat ride after work I jumped at the chance. 

Pods of bunker have been getting slashed by bluefish not far to our east, with striped bass underneath cleaning up the mess. As we approached a known bunker hangout, two boats boats were drifting with their own pod of the nervous baitfish. Big blues were cutting through balls of bait, sending bunker leaping out of the water left and right. An all-out massacre was going on and the sound of thousands of bunker moving in unison to avoid a sudden attack was intense. We picked a school and proceeded to snag and live-line them. As soon as a bunker was hooked and tossed back into the thick of things, it was instantly ripped to shreds. The only time we weren't catching was when the boat drifted too far from the chaos, and then we'd just motor back into position again. For an hour and a half this went on right until last light. While we didn't land any bass, one unlucky bunker came back to the boat mangled and lacking teeth marks--a sure sign that it had been crunched by a striper. It didn't much matter; with a bloody boat and a smiling crew, the hard fighting bluefish were were more than enough to keep us content.

The Blues

I just finished John Hersey's Blues, which should be recommended reading to anyone who has ever tangled with this formidable foe. The book couldn't have found me at a better time, as my home waters have been invaded by monster bluefish that are corralling schools of Atlantic menhaden in shallow water. Some striped bass are in the mix picking up the scraps, but it's large blues running the show at the moment. These yellow-eyed demons are packing the pounds too; an average catch this week would have fetched you $25,000 in August's WICC Bluefish Tournament, which had a poor first place showing of 13.92-pounds. 

Many anglers have a love/hate relationship with bluefish. They can chomp through 60-pound test mono like horse hair and swipe your expensive lure in a heart beat. Blues can also wreak havoc on your bait supply in short order. I've had a bucket of eels go to waste more times than I'd like to remember. But there seems to be a size threshold where all that hatred fades away. When a bluefish surpasses the 15-pound mark it gets much easier to acknowledge and respect their power and ferociousness as they make violent head shakes and fry your reel's drag system. They are true fighters in every sense of the word.