As any striped bass fisherman on the East Coast knows, the bass population is way down from what it should be. This story will be about patience, frustration, anger, and equipment malfunctions while striped bass fishing.
On the way down to Martha’s Vineyard I was as excited as I had ever been. Two months of fishing were ahead of me. How could I not be? School was out and it was time to catch some giants. That evening my mom and I launched our boat, a 13ft Boston Whaler and at 5 the next morning I was on the water, casting into fish busting bait on the surface. Throwing a Rebel popper with a beautiful walk the dog action I was hooking and catching fish every cast, bluefish of about 15 inches. Once I had caught 4 decent fish for dinner I decided it would be my last cast before I made my way to the rocks to try my luck casting a plug. About 7 “last casts” and five bluefish later I hooked into a fish that was obviously much bigger. I set the hook on him and he made one long run before snapping me off. It was surely a big bluefish that had cut me off because I hadn’t tied on a wire leader as I had hoped that there would be bass in with the school of bluefish. Stripers almost never hit anything with wire leader connected to it, so I had decided to take a chance. This was the beginning of my frustration.
I made my way over to the rocks and started casting with another Rebel popper I had tied on. The wind was slowly pushing me and I kept having to start up the boat and move away from the rocks so I decided to anchor and slowly make my way down the shore. After casting for about half an hour with no luck I was even more frustrated and decided to sit down to have some lunch.
Two sandwiches and a Pepsi later I took another cast and saw swirls behind my lure as a fish swung at it and missed. I kept reeling, hoping that the fish would come back to take another swing at the lure. He did, and I set the hook as hard as I could. ZZZZZ! The line ripped off the spool and the electrifying sound sang from the reel, a sound that makes every fisherman’s hair stand on end. I could tell this was a big fish just from the way he hit the popper, but the way he took off line confirmed that. Just as I was setting in for a long battle the line went slack and I fell over backwards as I had been putting my weight against the fish. I reeled in the popper and the hooks were straightened. Loosing a fish that big is bad enough to make a dedicated fisherman cry, as I estimate it was a 25+ pound striper.
I was getting tired of loosing big fish so I grabbed my conventional rod and went to my bottom fishing spot to try for flounder, sea bass and scup. Short after short was coming up when I hooked one decent fish. I worked it all the way up from the murky depths and I could tell it was a flounder by the giant head shakes. As it got to the surface I saw it was a huge “doormat” flounder. I reached for the gaff. As I was swinging it over the fish jumped, shook it’s head and the hook as well. I leaned over the rail, watching the giant flounder swim back down to the ocean floor. At that point, nearly heartbroken from all the big fish lost in one day, I drop my bait down again. BAM, an immediate hit and my drag begins to scream. I knew this was not a bottom fish and I started the engine to follow it in fear of being spooled. The engine didn’t start. I tried again. It was just not going to happen. In my last 50 yards of 25 pound mono I cranked down the drag and fought the fish. My line went slack and I fell over backwards again. After reeling in the line I discovered that the fish straightened yet another one of my hooks. I tied on another hook and dropped down quickly hoping that it was a school of big fish. Another immediate hit and the fight started. I attempted to start the boat again and it turned over… and started up. I had no more than 20 yards of line left and could see bare parts of my spool through the monofilament. I gun it forward and hopped up from my seat, furiously cranking and trying to retrieve all of the lost line. As soon as I had got most of my line back I slowed it down. Realizing that I had tightened the drag on the previous fish I began to loosen it. While doing so I took another step, slipped on a bluefish, loosening the drag all the way down in the process. Within two seconds my line had spun over and I was left with what is known in the fishing community as an extreme rats nest. POP! The line breaks, and the fish gets away. This was my breaking point. Despite the beautiful weather I made the long run back to the harbor, docked the boat and walked home. Despite all of the anger and frustration I learned many valuable lessons that day.
1- Take the time to swap out the weak hooks on lures with stronger ones that will hold a big fish.
2- Don’t leave fish on the deck where you will be walking, bring a cooler to put them in.
3- When the fishing is good, don’t quit. Even if you are loosing big fish over and over because you don’t have the proper gear, being on the ocean is better than sitting on the couch. I didn’t hook another bass as big as those for the rest of the summer.
Cast and Blast with Tucker 