From spawning smallmouth bass to largemouths and pickerel crushing topwater frogs and poppers, it was a good weekend. As always, my Quantum gear putting the big ones in the boat/on the shore!
Bass loved this mini frog on Saturday, 4/23!
Camera shy pickerel
Rebel minnow. This lure simply works.
20 inch smallie (on the tape!) caught like all my other fish, on Quantum gear!
Warning! Symptoms of Albie Fever are lack of sleep, loss of money to tackle stores and many missed days of work in the August to October calendar.
You never know what you’re going to come across late season fishing. This past October I spent a couple days in Martha’s Vineyard fishing for false albacore and bonita. It was a more than epic week.
I arrived solo on the island and made my way to my family’s house. I made some beans, an omelette and toast for dinner before crashing around ten, knowing I had a sleepless night in store. I woke up every hour praying it was 5 o’clock already and I could get on the water. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it was.
I threw on my warmest clothes and made my way down to the Menemsha jetty by headlamp. I arrived in the dark, headlamp now dead, to the rock pile that I know like the back of my hand. One misstep and I could have been chin deep in a crevasse, but thankfully I got to the tip without incident. While I was the only one there, I took a moment to breath in the salty air and smells of lobster gear. This, I knew, was the smell of home. False dawn came slowly as small schools of bluefish popped up and down on peanut bunker and silversides off in the distance. Slowly other fisherman trickled onto the jetty and finally the sun showed itself. The crest of it threw magnificent light all over Menemsha.
The bluefish were now backed by a sunrise so beautiful I almost forgot to cast when a group of false albacore began slamming silversides against the rocks at my feet! I snapped out of the daze I was in and flipped my epoxy jig a mere ten feet out. Wham! Fish on!! My drag screamed as the albie tore off at breakneck speed when suddenly all was quiet. My epoxy jig and tippet gone, I put on a new leader, 15lb Seaguar flourocarbon. I began blind casting with the pink epoxy jig, skipping it along the surface. A green torpedo erupted behind my jig and inhaled it, taking off on a screaming run. Back to back casts! Without warning, 3/4 of the line was gone from my Penn 460 Slammer. This was a big one! Drag locked all the way down, I settled in for what would be a long fight. He swam into the channel side of the jetty and swam hard with the current, but I managed to turn him out of it. I regained close to half my spool only to have it dumped once again when he sped back to the channel side. This time he went against the current and took me all the way into the harbor as I followed hopping along the rocks like a mad man. This was a smart fish. Close to seven minutes later I got him jetty side. He was massive and must have truly been a 15lb albie. As I reached down to grab his tail he took one more run to the Lure Graveyard, a rock pile 20 feet below the surface in front of the jetty. POP! The sound seemed to echo in my head. I watched the monster green streak slowly swim out of the rocks and back to the open water. Stunned by what had just happened, I sat back on the jetty and held my head, heartbroken.
The rest of the morning was fruitless. Close to noontime my buddy Quinn and his dad were unloading fish from their boat and I decided to go say hi. As we were talking a small group of green streaks tore across the surface throwing water and baitfish every which way. Quinn and I both grabbed rods and casted into the fish. I hooked up immediately on the green Hogy epoxy jig. Quinn kept casting. My fish made a short initial run compared to those of the last two fish I had hooked that morning. I realized my braid was rubbing against a piling but in order to get it off of it I would have to lift my rod over the outriggers and antennae of a boat. Standing on my tip toes, I lifted the rod as high as I could, not high enough. Pop! The fish and half my line were gone.
At this point I should have taken the hint and walked home, but that’s not the type of fisherman I am. I decided to be patient and keep losing epoxy jigs instead of going to grab a sandwich, and that’s just what I would do. I managed to lose 4 fish that day until I finally landed one, a decent 8lb albie. To top it off, my phone was dead. I asked the guy next to me to take a photo of me with the fish so that he could send it to me later. I still haven’t received that photo.
To this day I haven’t had as much frustration and fun while on the water as I did on this one day. Days like this are what keep me coming back. The power and speed of these “funny fish” seems to be the only cure my my addiction. The sight of that monster rock side still haunts me when I close my eyes at night and I am sure will continue to do so until I catch an albie even bigger.
Cast and Blast with Tucker 