FinFun: Close for Comfort

FinFun: Close for Comfort: "With his bikini-clad girlfriend looking on, a Jones Inlet surf fisherman went jaw-to-jaw shouting match, exchanging verbal insults with a bo..."

FinFun: Remembering 9-11

FinFun: Remembering 9-11: "I saw tragic world history take place right before my eyes yet I sat there puzzled to what actually was taking place. On the morning of Sep..."

Remembering 9-11

I saw tragic world history take place right before my eyes yet I sat there puzzled to what actually was taking place.

On the morning of September 11, 2001 I headed to porgy fish at Point Lookout jetties. As I drove southbound on the Wantagh Parkway I saw a group of cars and one police car stopped near the first Wantagh Bridge. Folks and the police officer were looking west. I turned quickly to look and I only saw thick, black smoke. My first thought that it was a huge boat fire in the back bays.

I continued to drive to Point Lookout. Once there, I climbed the western jetty to porgy fish. I had luck in recent weeks with nabbing 11” to 12” porgies there so I was confident I would bring home that day some fish. As I sat there on my cooler fishing on the jetty, I noticed thick, black smoke bellowing in the western skies. At first I thought it was an incinerator fire. I was totally clueless to what was causing the huge black clouds of smoke.

After fishing and catching a couple of keeper porgies a fisherman hopped onto the jetty to fish at the end of it. He said something to me but it didn’t register. I continued to fish for another hour or so, catching only throw back short porgies. Just before noon, I decided to pack it in and go home. The thick black cloud was still in the sky and I still had no clear understand of what was taking place.

Until I got into my car and turned on the radio to the news station and heard about the 9/11 attack. All of a sudden the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The police officer and the crowd of parked cars near the First Wantagh Bridge and why they were all looking west. The reason for the thick, black smoke bellowing in the sky now all made perfect sense.

This country was under attack by terrorists. When I got home, of course, I turned on the television and watched the news report. I sat there on my couch stunned, sadden, angry yet mostly shocked. During the following days, the names of the victims including the brave NYC firefighters and police officers who lost their lives were released. One of my college friends who grew up in nearby Seaford had perished while he was working for the NYPD.

To simply say I was stunned, sadden, angry and most of all shocked. As the weeks passed on, I thought to myself I sat there at the Point Lookout western jetty and saw history unravel before my very eyes and yet I was in the dark about what had happened and what was happening. On that day, I didn’t listen to the radio news going fishing or while fishing so I had no idea about what was taking place. A fellow fisherman said something to me but it just didn’t register. I wasn’t really paying that much attention to what he was saying.

It was the eeriest fishing day I had ever experienced. Mass murder had taken place before my eyes about 35 miles west. At the Jones Beach Piers, the most western one, I used to be able to see the Twin Towers on a clear day, and I probably could have saw the Twin Towers while I stood on the roof of my house. The last time I visited the Towers was when my European family came to visit in 1998 and we went to the city to visit the sites, one of them, of course, was the Twin Towers.

Yet on that morning of September 11, 2001 I was not expecting to see the Twin Towers from the Point Lookout western jetty. And I wasn’t expecting to see thick, black smoke bellowing into the skies. I was just thinking about catching fish. I just was out there to fish and whittle away the passing time in an enjoyable manner. I had no clue I was going to see tragic world history take place before my eyes. Yet I did. It was a sad day, a very sad day.

Close for Comfort

With his bikini-clad girlfriend looking on, a Jones Inlet surf fisherman went jaw-to-jaw shouting match, exchanging verbal insults with a boater who opted to fish close to the shoreline. The fisherman on the boat was furious because he perceived wrongly the land locked fisherman as burying an illegal catch.

Not so, the surf fisherman was just keeping his huge fluke, about 23," possibly 24" out of the sun to retain its freshness by placing it deep in the sand. The boater, however, didn’t and couldn’t realize this since he was fishing on his boat about 30 to 40 yards from the shoreline.

In his fury and anger, the boater grabbed his cell phone and called the authorities. Within 10 minutes the Bay Constable showed up. Since I was the first one they encountered on the beach, the constables asked to inspect my cooler. I complied. After looking inside, they congratulated me on my three huge flukes from 22” to 23.” Then they asked me about the surf fisherman with the bikini-clad girlfriend. I told them that a huge patch of huge flukes had passed through the Inlet, and the irate surf angler most likely had also nabbed huge flukes and buried them.

Upon saying that the constable went over to the surf fisherman with the beautiful girlfriend and asked him about his shouting match confrontation with the boater. Soon afterward, the surf angler dug up his huge flukes. The constables thanked him for his cooperation and then left the sand.

The boater had split before the authorities had arrived, but upon leaving he had continued his insults, choice words to the land locked angler. The surf fisherman was angry yet his girlfriend calmed him down and he resumed fishing.

For about 15 minutes on that summer day, a huge, and I mean huge, patch of keeper-size flukes swam close to the inlet shoreline, about 20 to 25 yards. I nabbed my three keepers, that year fluke fishermen were allowed to keep three as a maximum. My lucky day, for sure, to be there when the huge flukes were swimming through the Inlet so close to the shoreline.

Such is fluke fishing. Flukes often swim in patches like schools. If someone catches one fluke chances are there are other flukes in the area basically the same size. The mystery is, however, how many fluke in the patch? The ones that I were lucky enough to intercept must have been a part of a patch of hundreds of huge flukes.  Since that day, I had never come across such a huge patch. I’ve caught one, some days even two keepers, rare, but nothing like that day of primo fluke fishing.

As far as the shouting match argument between the boater and surf caster, the boater left so there was no blood, fisticuffs or sinker throwing. And, of course, the boater, was clueless in the end about the size of the fluke the shore angler had buried to keep cool. A year or so later, I became the target of an irate boater. On one weekday I was fishing and nabbed a 20” fluke, a keeper at that time. I laid the fluke in my cooler, right in front of a boat filled with people. The boat was close enough to the shoreline for me to see one of the anglers use his cell phone. In less than five minutes, an authority was on the beach and asked to check my cooler. Of course, I opened it up for inspection. This time, however, the boater, was there to witness the inspection. When I asked the authority if the boater had called, the officer told me not to worry about it, he added nice catch and then left.

It is possible to catch big flukes on the shoreline. Even though a few boaters who have to spend plenty of money on gas and docking don’t seem to realize it. Flukes like to ambush bait fish. So flukes will lie on the sand banks ledges, if they aren’t traveling in huge patches, and pounce on unsuspecting bait fish.

Fluke and bluefish roam Jones Inlet, especially close to the shoreline. It’s common to catch either in water about six feet deep. Those two fish are bold about coming in close to the Inlet shoreline, making for good fishing when they are around. It goes against the grain of popular stereotypical beliefs that fish prefer deep waters. Some fish do, but not fluke and bluefish. Also striped bass, who tend for the most part to stay in the channel at the Inlet, and when they are around weakfish, will come close to the shoreline at the Inlet.

It’s not like I’m going to catch a 100-pound fish at Jones Inlet, but sometimes the big fish do swim close enough to catch. Why? Because food is there. Bait fish will hug the shoreline for protection in an effort to elude predators. Some predators might shy away from about being so close to the shoreline at the Inlet. Yet not all, namely two aggressive predators bluefish and fluke.

FinFun: Dangerous Buck Rut

FinFun: Dangerous Buck Rut: "I accidentally found a hot fishing spot on the backside of Robert Moses Field 5. Nonetheless I ran across competition for the spot. With sev..."

Dangerous Buck Rut

I accidentally found a hot fishing spot on the backside of Robert Moses Field 5. Nonetheless I ran across competition for the spot. With several fish in my cooler I had to slowly pass on an October day a six-point buck in rut standing bold and brave next to his deer.

As I left the area of a dock used for government boats on the north side of the Fire Island lighthouse, I was toting about five kingfish and a big blackfish, all nabbed on sandworms in the Great South Bay. I felt proud that I had ventured out, experimented, and found a desolate fishing spot. In addition to the kingfish and blackfish, I was also reeling in schoolie striped bass. Fishing there was the best. I felt dumb luck had finally arrived.

The elation from my catch shortly ended, however, when I saw a huge six-point buck with his love interest just off the wooden path leading to the parking lot. With the alpha deer about 30 yards away, I stopped dead in my tracks. Armed only with a fishing rod and not a rifle, I knew I could easily be chopped meat if the buck decided to charge at me during his rut season.

Those horns on top of his head looked like cleavers. Just one thrust of anger could have left me bleeding profusely on the side of the shrubbery where few visit.  What the heck should I do I thought? I could easily retreat and declare surrender by heading back and taking the long route to the lighthouse then head to the parking lot. Or I could have just walk pass the lovely dove couple simply wishing I were armed.

All this while I walked the bay beach thinking about the good dinner I was going to have with the fish in my cooler. Everything was going so fine until I saw Bubba the horny, angry buck with his girlfriend Jezebel the darling doe. Messing with buck and doe during rut season could get ugly for anyone dumb enough to interfere with the love interests of wild animals. Yet I was too tired to retrace my steps and walk the long way around.

I said to myself just be careful, walk slowly, and if the buck charged just throw a three-ounce lead sinker at it. I had never heard of a buck charging at anyone on Fire Island so I felt confident that I was safe enough. I have heard of a buck in rut charging in upstate New York or in other parts of the country but here on Fire Island I had never heard it happening. Nonetheless, I really didn’t want to gamble on it. If I were wrong that buck might have decapitated me and put my head on its wall to show off and brag to his girlfriend or anyone else visiting to show off his trophy catch - me.

I knew, however, I had a sharp knife in my cooler that could have provided some protection. Then I thought to myself why the heck I wanted to behave like Tarzan, most likely that buck would have shredded me with his head rack before I could cut a morsel of its ear.

I opted of course to stroll pass the creatures instead of circling around. I had spent the whole day fishing, and catching fish, so I was too tired to backpedal away from nature. Slowly but surely I made my way to the couple. I paid close attention to any sound of snorting or rage a sure sign the beast was going to charge me. Yet as I walked pass the two, about 10 feet away, I took a quick glance as I hurried my steps.

The two weren’t too concerned or paid too much attention to me. They were in love, in rut, and couldn’t care less that I had invaded their love nest. As I finally made my way pass them and kept on walking to a safe distance, about a hundred yards away, I turned around to look at them. They still stood in the exact same spot. They hadn’t moved or budged a bit. They were so concerned with their feeling for the future they paid no mind to a guy with fishing gear who had crossed their path.

The buck never charged. Maybe because it was in love, too preoccupied with the call of nature to bother harassing a wondering angler who crossed its path, carrying a cooler full of fish.

FinFun: Can't Beat the Jetty for Fishing

FinFun: Can't Beat the Jetty for Fishing: "I’ve always considered the long walk to the West End 2 jetty as a walk to somewhere. Even though it’s about a mile-and-a-half trek in sand a..."

Can't Beat the Jetty for Fishing

I’ve always considered the long walk to the West End 2 jetty as a walk to somewhere. Even though it’s about a mile-and-a-half trek in sand and wind the walk always seems to be worth it. The walk back to the parking lot, however, could be full of aches and pain if one is hauling back a hefty bass or a few chopper bluefish.

I’ve always done well fishing at the jetty. Most of the time I don't fish on it, but about 50 yards just east of the rock structure. In the old days that fishing spot was nicknamed “the pocket” before the jetty was rebuilt in the mid-1990s. Either on the side or on the jetty, there always seems to be fish there. I consider it the best fishing spot at the beach.

These days, however, I could barely walk a half-mile let alone a mile-and-a-half in sand and often strong winds. So when I decide to venture down the sandy path at West End 2 I stop once I get to the oceanfront knowing the jetty is still three-quarter miles away. I settle and park my gear right where I see the ocean. I am too damn tired to walk west to the jetty. Nonetheless I have had success right at the end of the sandy path without trekking to the jetty. Once I caught two keeper striped bass there in less than an hour, having to return one.

In my days of being a young and strong man, I would walk always far enough to set up shop close to the jetty. It's an ideal spot to catch a prowling bass looking for broken clam shells or dislodged crabs. Once I even picked up a bunker still alive with a chunk bitten out of its belly.  I also fished on the jetty. But I stopped doing that when I said to myself what if I hooked a hefty bass, how would I lift it up off the rocks? If fate happened and I hooked a fat slob bass, I would have had to step off the jetty to land it. I use 20-pound test line and if it rubs against rocks it snaps. That's why I often fished alongside the jetty not on it.

On the rocks, however, I’ve caught schoolie bass and plenty of cocktail blues plus keeper size blackfish. Because of the rocks, however, I've lost a few fish. Nevertheless, I’ve never caught a keeper bass on the rocks. If my aim is bass, however, just east of the jetty on the sand suits my purpose. I've had success there, and you can't beat success. Biggest bass I have ever caught in “the pocket” just east of the jetty was about 20-pounds.

The jetty has a long history. After it was rebuilt in the mid-90s the problem was that the sand started to push up against the rock and the water became very shallow.  Another tidbit of trivia, for those wondering why the Old Construction dock is named the Old Construction Dock at Jones Inlet because in the late 1950s when they were first building the jetty the building crew used the Old Construction Dock to store the huge flat rocks for the jetty. When the new rocks were added in the mid-90s the rocks were placed this time on the sand at West End 2 beach all the way in the western corner.

The construction crew for the original jetty left many extra not needed rocks in the water off the Old Construction Dock, now an ideal place for blackfishing. In the 1970s there was a huge, rusted red crane at the Old Construction Dock left there abandoned by the jetty construction crew. When the jetty was rebuilt in the mid-1990s the rebuilding process was only a matter of replacing worn out rocks with new flat surfaced rocks thus allowing the sand to build up and make the water shallow.

That jetty also has another history. This of misfortunates and sadness. I remember at least four if not more fishermen getting killed there. I remember in the mid-1980s three fishermen decided to fish there during bad weather and got swept off the rocks. I also remember a few years ago, a fisherman got his rig stuck in the rocks and tried to yank it loose and his sinker shot back hitting him in the head and killing him. I'm sure there were more instances, it's dangerous, yet those are the only two I remember.

 Anyway, I’ve always considered the West End 2 jetty as the best place to fish at Jones Beach. A jetty is ideal structure to attract prey and predator. And shellfish lost in the whirlwind swerve of the ocean get tossed and cracked against the rocks, offering food to the denizens. And let’s not forget all the crabs those rocks attract, all ofthe mussels and barnacles. And all of the baitfish looking for protection, the ecosystem around a jetty is a small universe within itself.

Too bad my back hurts so much today that it prevents me from making that long trek to productive fishing grounds. I remember once I had landed two big bluefish with a combined weight of at least 16-pounds, probably more, and I had to carry the fish back to the parking lot. I had to struggle to walk the mile and a half facing a strong east wind blowing right into my face while I was dragging the two big bluefish. I had a crazy idea half way to throw back one of the fish because it was becoming too heavy to carry.

I didn’t, however, I just took a breather every 50 yards.  Same story with a bass, if it was too big for my cooler I would drag it along the sand to the parking lot. Tiring as heck. Funny thing about that, however, is that I left a bass tail drag mark on the sand. If someone were scouting out West End 2 he could tell there wre fish there just by the mark I left in the sand.

On the way to the jetty, to keep my legs moving to walk the great distance to the jetty I always looked for bass tail trail marks in the sand. So when I caught a bass I always left a mark so signal to others that the long walk was worth it.

FinFun: Bluefish Lead Spring fishing.

FinFun: Bluefish Lead Spring fishing.: "In deep waters bluefish are prey to Mako sharks. In shallow waters, close enough to the shoreline, bluefish are the number one predators fea..."

FinFun: Bluefish Lead Spring fishing.

FinFun: Bluefish Lead Spring fishing.: "In deep waters bluefish are prey to Mako sharks. In shallow waters, close enough to the shoreline, bluefish are the number one predators fea..."

Bluefish Lead Spring fishing.

In deep waters bluefish are prey to Mako sharks. In shallow waters, close enough to the shoreline, bluefish are the number one predators feasting on helpless bait – bunker, sand eels, and later on in the season full-grown spearing. One of the wonders of nature is to see the water boil with bluefish blitzing, shredding and eating baitfish prey. One just has to watch a youtube video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hSfX8jg7mK0to see the massive, angry, hungry savage attack conducted by these feisty, toothy, aggressive inshore predators.

Obviously, bluefish are fun to catch. They are just fierce fighters just hooking into one could brace the back of any old-timer. A feisty bluefish, even a two-pound cocktail, could set one’s reel singing and test the quality of the reel’s drag. For added fun, if the bluefish are around, I will use a short five-foot fishing pole with eight-pound test line to test my fishing skills. It’s an added challenge of go light tackle for these ferocious predators. Nonetheless it’s oh so much fun to listen to the drag sing, to feel the rod wobble, not knowing for sure if one’s fishing tackle is sturdy enough to the challenge.

Last year, however, there was a dearth of bluefish. I don’t know for sure what happened, but the bluefish run only lasted for several days then was over. Usually the bluefish are at the Inlet in troves for a few weeks before they head deeper into the back bays. Not last year. They seemed to have dwindled in numbers. As a result there were less snappers in September because less bluefish spawned in the back bays.

The dwindling of bluefish could change the whole scheme of nature. If there aren’t many predators feasting on baitfish, the baitfish population grows huge, and the fierce struggle for food among baitfish gets thrown off-balance. And the lack of bluefish also could throw off the feeding pattern of striped bass, who usually follow bluefish around, because when bluefish are shredding baitfish, morsels fall to the bottom of the waterway for striped bass to pick up as easy meals.

Flukes, aka summer flounders, are also fierce, predators but they don’t swim as fast as bluefish and don’t attack baitfish in the same manner, shredding thousands and thousands apart with huge schools attacking simultaneously.

Bluefish usually enter the Long Island waterway in the first month of spring. They leave their northern Florida estuaries to come up north when the water temperature warms up and when the mackerel, the ultimate prey, start to head to cooler waters. It’s mackerels that start the evolutionary feeding chain by pushing up north, and closely followed by hungry bluefish.

Without troves of mackerel inciting the bluefish to chase, the bluefish could stay in friendly confines that offer other baitfish besides mackerel, thus the bluefish stay south and don’t swim as far north as Maine but stay in great numbers as far north as New Jersey. It all depends. Nature is tricky. Some years it provides other years it provides very little. This is why I pay attention to fishing reports. Earlier this week, third week in April, I read a report from southern New Jersey that read that someone had caught a cocktail bluefish. I could only assume the report was truthful but if it is that means the Long Island shoreline should see them soon.

This week I will try my luck at the oceanfront beaches to see if I catch anything. Last year, trying for either bluefish or striped bass, I caught a 15-pound bass on a bunker chunk. I didn’t catch any bluefish because there weren’t that many around. I didn’t see many caught whenever I went fishing. This was surprising given that I usually see plenty of bluefish every year. Not last year, however, it was the worse year for bluefish in recent memory.

Nonetheless that means nothing this year, as every season, every year, changes. It’s a part of fishing to figure out usually incorrectly where the fish are going to be. There’s only one way to find out. And that’s by soaking a line.

FinFun: Lunatic on the Loose

FinFun: Lunatic on the Loose: "Spooky, creepy, eerie that describes what's going on right now at Jones Beach and the neighboring beaches. On Monday went to Jones Beach f..."

Lunatic on the Loose

Spooky, creepy, eerie that describes what's going on right now at Jones Beach and the neighboring beaches.

On Monday went to Jones Beach for a walk to strengthen my bad back when I saw a FBI Black Hawk helicopter hovering over Field 6. The next day the newspaper, Newsday, said the helicopter was at the beach to look for any evidence in the mysterious murder spree, where some nut-case disposed bones and skeletal remains not only at Jones Beach but also at Gilgo Beach and Oak Island. There's a lunatic at large. Spooky.

As a reporter in the early 1990s, I covered a few of the serial killer Joel Rifkin's trial hearings. He was accused of killing 17 young ladies working as prostitutes. I was assigned to cover one of his court hearings to see if evidence was admissible in his case (called a scope hearing). It was a small courtroom and the guards led him in in steel bracelets, handcuffs. It was eerie to be in the same small courtroom with someone charged with killing so many innocent victims. Gross, disgusting, vicious, vile, pure evil. Anyway now the police are finding more victims in this supposively serial murder case. This time right there at the beach, where I fish.

I hate fishing at night so I avoid doing it. Even it seems the night bite produces big bass who venture closer to the shoreline in the dark, I still don't fish at night. About 12 years ago, I went to Field 6 before sun up to fish for striped bass when at sun up I spotted a drunk fisherman surrounded by more than a dozen empty beer cans and hugging a huge 30-pound plus striped bass. The sun light woke him up. So he got up, dragged his big bass away to the parking lot. When I left the beach I saw him snoozing away in his car next to his bass.

Nonetheless I went to the beach at 5 a.m., about one hour before sun up, so I wasn't in the dark for long. Good. There's this queasy feeling about fishing at night. It's spooky. On moonless nights you really can't see anything in front of you. And if your mind plays tricks, you could easily think that someone might be sneaking up on you in the dark. It's pitch black. All one hears is the ocean lapping on the shoreline. The only way to fish at night is with a flashlight helmet to see your hook when you bait it. It's a totally different form of fishing than tossing out your rig on a clear sunny afternoon. Night fishing is not for me although the bite is probably better. It's a surreal perceptual experience.

Now with this unexplained murder spree hitting the oceanfront, there are probably those who have the nerve to continue night fishing. They're many addicted anglers out there, who I'm sure would simply shrug off the murder spree, believing the nutso is or was after prostitutes.

Soon, probably in a week or two, I will start surf fishing in daylight, of course, at the oceanfront beach. Tourists or strangers usually stop to talk to me since I'm planted in my fishing spot and have no where to go. So I will chat with them. Some are interesting and are pleasant to talk to. This year, I'm sure, however, some conversations will turn to the rash of murders, and skeletal remains found at the beach. Of course, I really don't want to talk about such a gruesome topic. But I've had my ears yakked off before by tourists and strangers, so I'm used to it.

I just won't get used to the idea that a murderer might be lurking at Jones Beach. That alone is too scary to think about. So far, what, the police have found, I think are 10 skeletons, and are still searching for more on the Jones Island barrier that stretches for six miles. The case is far from being over. The police are still looking for more mortal remains. All within my fishing vicinity. Murder has come to the beach. And I will think about all of those poor souls who have lost their lives when police helicopters buzz pass while I wait not in peace and quiet for a fish to bite.

The Beach Existentialist

Needless to say, there is plenty of down-time when fishing. It's not non-stop action of reeling and reeling in fish. It's more like gee whiz I caught a fish.

This lack of steady action today in fishing makes me sit and think very much like an existentialist philosopher in the same vein as Albert Camus (The Stranger), Jean Paul Sartre (Being and Nothingness) and Samuel Beckett (Waiting for Godot).

With so much education and nothing to do when the fish aren't biting, I either listen to my MP3 player, or sit in my beach chair and philosophize. Nature's internal clock, the waves, sets the mood and works rhytmically its ebb and flood, good-bye and hello, to the shoreline.

It's not all sitting and waiting, of course, I do end up chatting mostly with regulars or even with a stranger who stops to chat. As long as nonsense isn't spewed I'm willing to listen to almost anything. Nonetheless fishing on the surf is mostly about waiting. It does test one's patience.

Fishing I closely relate it to, however, Beckett's Nobel-prize winning play "Waiting for Godot." It's the story about two bums, Estragon and Vladimier, who wait for something good to happen. They wait and talk about how Godot will bring something good for them in the near future. Their wait however is in vain since Godot never shows up during the two bums ordeals of surviving life.

Fishing is similar. One waits for good things to happen. For the most part good things don't happen. Once in a while it does, but often it does not. If a fish is caught today most likely it will fall short of the keeper mark and it will be sent back into the waterway. The thrill of catching such a fish is the brief fight the fish puts on. Outside of that, it's a return. Not much fun when one spends the day returning fish, especially flukes (summer flounder) back into the water. Outside of the brief battle, unless it's a huge skate, the fun is quickly over.

Nonetheless, I know no one who goes fishing with the expectation of catching nothing. The whole idea of fishing is to dream about catching a fish, a big fish the better. That's what keeps recreational anglers going back to the surf or boat to fish is the dream of catching fish, maybe one day a huge fish to show off for family and friends.

Yet on the surf it's often only a dream to catch fish one could keep and eat. It's a dream like the ones experienced by the two characters in Beckett's play Waiting for Godot. It's a wishful use of the imagination of sitting there waiting, waiting, and waiting and catching nothing, at least nothing worthwhile to keep and eat.

The possibility of what may happen is what keeps me returning to the surf year after year, decade after decade with the hope of catching a fish worth of my frying pan. It does happen, don't get me wrong. I couple of years ago, I land two keeper size flukes. Last year, none, however, zippo, shut out of a meal causing me to rely on the canned tuna for me to get my protein.

It's the expectation that Beckett's characters have, and the expectation I have when I go fishing. The mind is a work of art, it's easy to convince oneself that one will catch a fish even before one drops a line. Yes, I believe, it's self-deception, a motivation to go fishing to believe one will catch a keeper, just like Beckett's two bums believe Godot will show up and take them out of their miseries. Some would call this form of thinking as self survival. Others as delusional. Just call me delusional because I do believe every time I drop a line in the surf, I will catch a fish to bring home and eat. It's what keeps me going back and back for years and years, and decades and decades the thought my luck will change on the next cast.

Striped Bass season opens tomorrow

Tomorrow striped bass season officially opens. I'm not a bass hound, but catching a big fish from the surf is a rush, thrilling feeling, unlike catching anything else from the surf.

Last year, I lucked out. I nabbed a 15-pound bass at Field 6 on my second toss. My first toss resulted in a big schoolie. So I spent less than 20 minutes on the beach before I hooked and brought home lunch. For me that's how striped bass fishing is. I find the sweet spot, lucked out, and end up with a keeper fish. From my experience, bass usually stay at the sweet spot for awhile. One year, the bass stayed at the end of the New York Avenue Long Beach jetty for several days. Same is true with the triangle buoy sign at the third Wantagh Bridge, the bass stayed there for days.

The question is, of course, is how to find the sweet spots. Communication. A network of anglers willing to share with each other the sweet spots in the surf or the ocean. To communicate with each other is the best way of catching a fish. From my experience in working in Montauk as a statistics gatherer for sharks and tunas I had conversations with charter captains and many told me the best way to find out where the fish are is through communication. You tell me where the fish are next time I tell you where the fish are if I find them. This exchange could make any fisherman look good. To know where the fish are is the key to fishing success.

Yet when one doesn't have an open network of anglers one relies of pure dumb luck of being in the right place at the right time. Today, a network of anglers is easy given that almost everyone has a cell phone. "Hey Joe, I just nabbed a hefty bass here and the bluefish are boiling the surf, if I were you I could get my gear down here."

That's all it takes to have a successful outing. Good friends and good communication. The fish can't be everywhere at the same time. And on Long Island we have about 200 miles of open surf on the north and south shores. It's a huge territory to find fish. So if a club or pals get together and are willing to share where the hot spots are it makes fishing so much more rewarding.

Striped bass, however, I have found, tend to stay in the same place holed up. Bluefish roam more, chasing bait. So with bluefish to network is less productive so the fish doesn't stay in the same area for too long. Not true with striped bass, they could camp out on a piece of structure - jetties, sandbars, bridges - for days and days. Knowing this could improve anyone's catch.

On the day last year I nab the 15-pounder I wondered if the bass were feasting on clam beds exposed by the whirling ocean. I would assume so. Sometime was keeping them there in masses. It must have been food either clams or newly hatched baby crabs. Even sand fleas. Whatever the bass were there long enough for me to make two successful casts.

This year, I should be fishing the ocean surf more. Nonetheless every year changes. If I find the sweet spot this year I would consider myself extremely lucky. If someone tells me where the sweet spot is, I would consider myself fortunate to have a good friend tell me such wonderful and useful information.

FinFun: Pollution killing Fish population???

FinFun: Pollution killing Fish population???: "I don’t understand fully pollution. I don’t understand fully how chemicals and garbage affect the waterway. And I don’t understand fully how..."

Pollution killing Fish population???

I don’t understand fully pollution. I don’t understand fully how chemicals and garbage affect the waterway. And I don’t understand fully how fish reproduce or don’t reproduce in a heavily polluted environment.

Yet, I could safely guess pollution can’t be good for the fish habitat. I always hear about commercial fishermen taking plenty of fish, I always hear about suspected poachers taking a lot more than their fair share, yet pollution I only hear superficial details.

I remember during the mid-1980s when medical waste washed ashore at Jones Beach. Red bag waste was found drifting in more than a few places. What happened? Back then hospitals weren’t permitted to burn red bag medical waste in incinerators so they had to cart the medical waste by boat beyond the canyons, pass the 100-mile mark. As the tide has it, the waste ended up floating back to shore. This resulted in seeing bloody medical waste on our shoreline.

This, however, is just one example of pollution. There are so many more, but I know of few with any kind of knowledge beyond superficial. I know that on the north shore, for example the Connecticut River, pollution flows into the Long Island Sound. The theory is, however, that the pollution will eventually wash out into the ocean. In theory that is. And there are other rivers on the north side of the Sound that is polluted, or should I say toxic.

It just can’t be good for the fish population. I mean would anyone like to walk into a room with a stinking, broken refrigerator with month old food inside. Of course not. Or walk into a room with the foulest, rotten odor imaginable. Or course not. Or to see traces of old, crusty, mildew laded food on the table to eat in case of hunger. Of course not. But with pollution these sort of problems could be faced everyday by fish swimming in our waters. That’s why I think pollution has been one of the reasons for the low number of fish in our waters.

Low numbers of course compared to five years ago not thirty years. In the mid-2000, fishing wasn’t great but there were fish out there to be caught and cooked. It was not an uncommon day to land 10 cocktail bluefish in 2003. It wasn’t even to land a couple of keeper flukes when the size limitation was 17”. So I spend time today trying to figure out where fishing has turned for the far worse.

I hear this and that about the commercial fishermen. I have also talked to them and they tell me the same thing as the recreational guys. Government regulations stink. The commercial guys told me they have to drop back about 40% of their catch, for the most part killed in the nets, because of government regulations. It sounds logical so I believe it. Plus there aren’t as many commercial trawlers in New York as there is in Massachusetts, New Jersey and North Carolina. Once again, however, I could only discuss the topic with limited information. I read the NOAA web site once in a while to see the commercial catch but outside of that, I really don’t know much.

And I truly don’t know much about waterway pollution. I just sense that it spells trouble. To have stinking, rotten water just can’t be healthy and good for fish. That’s all I could guess. Outside of that I am clueless.

Nonetheless, I could make a safe guess, however, that it ain’t good, and outside of making sure I collect all of my garbage on the beach, there isn’t much I could do about it except complain.

FinFun: Ocean Blues

FinFun: Ocean Blues: "New surf turf for me this year, 2011, I'm going to try my luck for bluefish when they finally push up their way north from Florida to the Lo..."

Ocean Blues

New surf turf for me this year, 2011, I'm going to try my luck for bluefish when they finally push up their way north from Florida to the Long Island shoreline.

By my calculation, the first bluefish should arrive at Jones Beach in the fourth week of April. It will, of course, depend on the size of the mackerel schools they are chasing. If not many mackerels the bluefish should arrive to our shoreline earlier. Every year, however, the time schedule changes. And some years, like last year, the bluefish fail to show up in great numbers. I could only hope for swarms of choppers, feasting on sand eels, spearing, and menhaden (bunker). This year, however, I'll be dunking bunker chunks for them blues at Field 6, the ocean, rather than Jones Inlet. It's not that the ocean is more productive for choppers, but in the ocean there tends to be more striped bass, a pick up while trying for bluefish.

Mainly, I see fishing the oceanfront for bluefish as more of a change of pace. I have been regularly fishing the Inlet for bluefish, especially cocktails, for the last 15 years. I need a change or else I'll go stir crazy. To fish religiously year after year can get tiresome, believe me. I need to change it up once in a while to keep my interest level up. I always considered Field 6 excellent for bluefish and striped bass. The big difference between the Inlet and Field 6 is more folks today fish the Inlet than the oceanfront and bass fishing is better at Field 6 than at the inlet.

Nonetheless the Inlet is more closed in than the long stretches of ocean beach. I've been at the Inlet in May when anglers lined up shoulder to shoulder to nab cocktail bluefish. One in a while a hefty chopper of ten-pounds gets pulled out, overall the bluefishing at the Inlet is the place to go to catch those toothy creatures. Yet, I'm worn out, fishing fatigue, of tossing out line again to catch bluefish. For a while in the mid to late 90s, I was fishing 200 times a year. Always fun, but I need a change of pace to keep my interest level high. That's why I might use funky bait like shrimp, even chicken. Simply to break up the monotony.

If the bluefish bite turns super hot this year on the oceanfront, I might move once in while to the Inlet to toss out artificial soft plastic lures. I can't use soft bait in the ocean simply because of casting reasons; at the inlet, all I have to do is toss the soft plastic only 20 yards out and I land in deep water more than 10 feet. I haven't used artificials regularly for the last few years, believing that bait works better for both bluefish and striped bass. Nonetheless I do like using lures. I toss out a 3/8 oz. leadhead weight with a Fin S, my color of choice is white, and sassy tails are fun, yet the bluefish have to be in the area for me to switch from bait to lures.

Since I grew up using bait it is my preference. Beside using chunks, I even come to use the guts and hearts of the bunker in the inlet,  and I also chop up the head into small pieces to use for flukes or bluefish. I only do this if I'm running low on money. It works. The heart stays on the hook, and with the head I could get at least three to four small pieces out of it. Yet only when I'm low on funds will I do this. You never know if a striped bass is lurking in the neighborhood and might be hungry enough to swallow a whole bunker head.

Nonetheless, I'm fishing the oceanfront this year in spring. In late April, early May, not many beachgoers and not many anglers plying their trade on the surf. I could just stick my sandspike into the sand, tune in my MP3 player, and rest and wait in my chair with the hope a striped bass along with bluefish notices my baited hook.

I do enjoy fishing for bluefish. Not only the fierce fight, the cocktails of one or two pounds are delicious, better tasting than the big choppers, which I find tasty enought to make fishcakes out of them. By far, however, the cocktails taste better. The smaller blues feed on sand eels and spearing while the bigger blues feed on bunker. So when you eat a big bluefish you're eating what that bluefish last ate, usually oily, stinky bunker. And the small blues sand eels and spearing.

Neverless I won't throw back a legal fish for me to keep regardless of it being a hefty brute bluefish. This year, I will wait and see what it will bring on the oceanfront. If I get shut out a few times, that's it, I'm heading back to my old cocktail bluefish stomping grounds at the Inlet. And fish alongside the usual crowds. Some of the faces I have seen for years, and years, and years, nonetheless it's good to reconnect with those who spend a good chunk of their lives hoping to catch what is expected. The bottom is, however, is to fish where there's fishing action. Maybe this year that place is the oceanfront.

FinFun: Flounder by Any Other Name

FinFun: Flounder by Any Other Name: "I caught my last winter flounder on a blistering, humid August afternoon. A winter flounder in the midst of summer? Fishing has gotten ..."

FinFun: Yes To Fishing License

FinFun: Yes To Fishing License: "I, for one, don't mind shelling out $10 f or a fishing license. If the money collected is used wisely I think it's a good idea. There always..."

Yes To Fishing License

I, for one, don't mind shelling out $10 f or a fishing license. If the money collected is used wisely I think it's a good idea. There always could be more fishing regulation enforcement, more accurate statistics about how much fish those the recreational sector truly catches, and more research about waterway pollution.

Call me nuts, but I don't see what the big deal is about a measly $10. Then you have some who will rant about government interference. And there should be no if only a little government involvement in a recreation like fishing. I disagree. Fishing has been on a downward slope for years now. Each passing year it seems as if I catch less and less fish. It was only 10 years ago when I used to catch at least one winter flounder. No more. Last year there was a scarcity of bluefish. I hope this year the situation changes.

Nonetheless the only problem I see with requiring a license is if the government goofs and use any gathering satistic against the recreational angler. One of the great mistakes made by recreational anglers is the need to brag and lie about how much was caught. Just listening to others at my fishing haunts I would disbelieve anyone who said there is no fish out there. Fishermen tell me about catching tons of keeper flukes, weakfish, bluefish, striped bass, blackfish, and so on, that if the government ever heard the tall tales that I've heard the government would clamp down hard on recreational fishing for hoarding too much.

Nonetheless, I know better because I fish often since I live so close to the Atlantic Ocean. Some years the most I bring home are a dozen fish, including several snappers. And it's not just me. When I fish I look up and down the beach to see if any fishermen has landed any fish. Outside of sea robins and skates not many fish were landed last year. The government, however, doesn't know this. The stats the government gets are usually from boaters in Montauk. If only the surf at Jones Beach was as productive as the rips about a mile or two from the point in Montauk, I wouldn't complain about catching so few fish.

Now without licensing the government will never find out the true story about how little is kept fishing from the shore. There is no way for the government to find out without licensing.

It sounds great to say "we have our freedom" and "don't tread on me" but commonsense would say effective government programs could bring back the fish population for the shorebound angler. And at what price? A mere $10 a year. I spend more than that if I buy two dozen sandworms during winter flounder season, yet for some, I disagree, $10 is too much.

Flounder by Any Other Name

I caught my last winter flounder on a blistering, humid August afternoon. A winter flounder in the midst of summer? Fishing has gotten that crazy with all of the rules and regulations bestowed on us by New York state environmental laws.

Prior to 1996, a winter flounder was simply a flounder. A blueblack flounder if anyone wants the specifics. So what happened? In 1996 the New York Seafood Council won the right to rename fluke to summer flounder. This caused confusion. What was the difference between flounder, winter flounder, and summer flounder? A flounder was just that a flounder until 1996 when a flounder became a winter flounder and a fluke became a summer flounder. I don't blame them. Who would want to order sauteed fluke in a restaurant? Not me and not most others. So fluke was changed to be called summer flounder so restaurants could now offer "Lemon tinged flounder" on a customers plate. Sure sounds better than lemon tinged fluke.

So I don't blame the Seafood Council for wanting to change the name of a fish. I'm sure more plates of fluke, oops, I mean sumer flounder, have been served in New York restaurants since the name switch.

So where does that leave the original flounder, the flattie of lore and gastronomical legend, the bottom dweller known to love the muddy bottom, sucking up worms and broken shellfish? The original flounder underwent a name change. It became known as winter flounder oddly enough since many are caught in the beginning of summer when they move out of the back bays.

Today, however, there are so few flounders, I mean winter flounders, the species is ready to be showed in photographs at the Natural Museum of Dinosaurs, as a species vanished from the face of the earth like the dodo bird. So what happened to them? There are many explanations, opinions, to the demise of the popular ground fish. The seal population explosion for one. Seals are the natural predator of winter flounders. Just look at how chubby those seals are getting at the back bays of Nassau County. Those seals are getting so fat and without using a diner card. No wonder the seals always look like it's laughing.

Most of the winter flounders are gone at least for those supporting only hooks and sinkers. Maybe it's different for the seals. They have a better underwater view on what is moving around, and the harbor seals still show up every winter, so I would guess the winter flounders are still there. I could, however, only guess the food that keeps the seals swimming in the area. It could be winter herring maybem or even tautog blackfish. If it's winter flounder I have to give the seals credit for being a better angler than me.

With this in mind, I will still head out on April 1st to try my luck in nabbing a flattie. Last year, I was fishing next to a guy who caught one, the only one I'd seen the whole year. I will try simply because I like flounder fishing. I've been flounder fishing for years and years, and it's a tough habit to break. I don't expect to catch one this year, yet I will try. As someone who has been fishing for so long, I always remain optimistic.

Even to the point of senseless stupidity, yet it's the optimistism of thinking I'll catch a fish that keeps me fishing each and every year. My optimistism gives me strength, and it shows my weakness. Call me crazy nonetheless I will be flounder fishing in spring when the season finally reopens on April 1st in New York. If I  luck out and catch one, I'll probably end up as stunned as the hooked flounder, flopping and wiggling in the cool, spring breeze.