SharkHart
10-02-2009, 07:25 PM
I have long considered the idea of doing a book to tell our Fishing stories, both good and bad and some of the crazy stuff that has happened to us.
It's unlikely it will ever make it to a book. I got the stories, writing it is semi easy. The distribution or Interest is the question. At any rate here is a sample story of a memorable surf fishing day that i think was back in the fall of 2004. I might have to break this up into a few parts due to the length.
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Boat Bluefish Bonanza!
The fall had been fairly warm and off to a slow start for bass. I was fishing a three day weekend into Monday hoping for that first good wave of bass to come through. Just as the weekend hit we got more weather I didn't want, warm with sun and SW winds. I also planned to be fishing on the boat the following day and the forecast was nearly the same.
I started fishing Manasquan on Saturday. I spent time fishing all around the various beaches and a few rock piles and only a few small blues racing in and out of the inlet before dusk. But hey it was something at least until the bass show up.
The following morning we cleared the inlet around 7 am and even early on you could see it was going to be a nice very mild fall day. We started to troll trying to locate schools of game fish by dropping trolling plugs and bunker spoons. It was not long before the rods started to bend. The only thing was they were 6-12 lb blues on the other end. Sometimes two blues at a time was how the day started. We went right through the middle and fished... all blues all day long at all stops.
My uncle, as he often is, was intent on dragging the spoons in hopes of finding big bass, but they were like a bluefish magnets. Mid day temperatures pressed into the high 60s. Between the warm temps and the 300 foot wire line workout I kept taking off jackets and sweatshirts. I was down to just a shirt.
I normally don't mind the fight of a big bluefish, but dragging them with the boat on wire line quickly lost its appeal. It wasn't long before it was obvious the striped ones weren't there or weren't willing to cooperate.
After about the 30th blue I could really start to feel it in my back and forearm. It was one of the very few times where I literally couldn't handle much more. My uncle worked the helm while George and myself started to go into "you take this one" arguments. "No way isn't it your turn I think i had the last one" :lookhappy:
George and I, totally worn out, finally came to the agreement that enough was enough and time to head in. That morning I had looked at Mondays weather and saw exactly what I was looking for. Coming a day later then I really wanted, low 50 with a 15 mph North West wind, a little cold front was coming through.
The whole time Sunday on the boat I kept saying we are a day early. As the boat approached the inlet I saw a little more birds at the mouth than usual and not the tiny scrap picking birds, these looked like a few terns in the mix. After washing down and cleaning the boat I grabbed my surf stick and headed to the Jetty at the inlet.
As I walked up there about an hour later, the inlet was now engulfed in birds, and I could tell by fishermen's postures something was going on. There was definitely a lot of fish on both sides of the jetty but they were all blue. Mostly midsized 4-5 lb blue fish came in and all the rods were bent. I used what little energy and strength I had left to get into the mix.
After taking a few, the highlight was one of the blues biting or breaking my cordell plastic pencil in two. :eek:
I switched to a shad I happened to have handy in my pocket and a 5lber was quickly on it. A couple was taking a leisurely walk out onto the Jetty just as I was about to pump the blue up the rocks.
On the first hard pump the blue shook the hook and what was left of the shad including the lead and hook went flying like a pendulum. I could hear the shrieks from the couple behind me with the projectile headed their way. :scared:
Well I've seen this move before. I had to keep my rod high the whole time and flipped it forward in mid flight protecting the civilians in the process. Little did I know then an accident was in fact waiting to happen this weekend and it involved no civilians. After that I had enough. I left the blues and went back and passed out about 7:30 PM, totally unaware that one of best and worst days would soon follow.
Blitz day - Game on!
I woke up about 4 am. As soon as I opened the door I felt the cool winds and colder air. High tide was going to be right around day break, perfect conditions... this is it I thought to myself! I went back to the big jetty to already find 2 others working it in the darkness. I fished all along the jetty and surrounding beach area for an hour and a half without a hit, I couldn't believe it. :huh:
Now I suddenly would have loved to have a nice bluefish hit me. My fingers were chilly. I was painfully bored getting that feeling that I don't even remember what a hit feels like. I kept thinking "no big deal" so many times I don't get them in darkness and at that first crack of light the fish show up to feed.
Well dawn came and still no fish. After about an hour it seemed hopeless. I had taken the day off so I continued to try. Now fully light out a good hour and a half into light, I was about to make a move walking off the far end of the big jetty. I started to see some birds a few hundred yards north. I didn't think too much of it at first but they continued to linger.
This is where I made a mistake I don't plan to make again too often. I had just gone 3 hours without a strike and I was being lazy watching a few birds get increasingly thicker. I could have easily walked there in 5 minutes or even better yet, ran there in 2 mins. I stepped down to the pocket to have a chat with a Fly fisherman who was doing equally as bad as myself. "There's a few birds up there, might be something, probably some blues" I said.
Here was where I made another mistake, took some bad advice. The Fly fisherman said "they are coming this way, the current will bring them right to us" For about two minutes the birds definitely looked closer but then as I looked again they were moving north away from us, and they were now too thick to ignore.
After waiting with the Fly guy for a little too long I said " I think we have to go after them" He seemed disinterested in moving with me. I finally got my lazy butt up the beach solo. As I started to get closer to the birds a few anglers were coming down directly toward them from the street too. I hadn't gotten to the birds totally just yet but I was close enough to take a cast and catch my wind from my double time pace.
I went with a 2 oz pencil and a few pops it got taken down, finally! As I reeled it to the wash I was thinking please please have stripes. As I slide the fish up the sand I was very disappointed to see it was a mid size blue. Again I was thinking "oh well its something" and I don't mind catching them from the surf.
I repositioned about 30 yards north, now directly with the birds and two fisherman who came down from the street. Within seconds all three of us were hooked up at about the same time. The blitz was definately on and things suddenly got very interesting as all three of us simultaneously slide stripers onto the beach. YES they are bass!:dribble:
Although there was no surface activity there was a good body of bass right outside the wash, with seemingly that one lone blue just to throw me off mentally. Another angler now joined the action to our left, the fly guy still casting into dead water down the beach. For the first 10 casts it was hard not to get a hit on the popper and I took about 5 bass in no time at all, this is what I had been waiting for! After releasing one I went about a 5 hitless casts and I noticed the birds slide a little more north but not too much, the newest angler to the blitz was on them and hooked up.
I repositioned again about another 30 yards. Soon as the pencil started to pop a bass took it down. After a quick release the next cast produced the same result another nice bass immediately smacked it. Only this time when I landed it I immediately could see just the tip of the pencil sticking out its mouth.
If I could do it over I would have unsnapped the lure, threw the fish on the beach and kept fishing. However in a blitz you look to your right and left and see bent rods birds diving fish flopping on the beach. Every moment you aren't casting into the water feels like an eternity and it seems like the only thought on your mind is I MUST CATCH TONS OF BASS RIGHT NOW!
The mistakes were already starting to pile up for the day and I was about to make my biggest one yet.
The pliers I chose to use that day were pretty much basic household needle nose type, not the extended needle version ones. The fish had the plug straight down its mouth and the trailer hook was hooked pretty far down. I lipped the bass with the boga and braced the metal part of pliers with my index finger for leverage because I knew I was about to stick them way down there. The only thought on my mind being get back into the blitz, need to get back into the water pronto.
I clenched the trailer hook with the pliers and started to shake it up and down and side to side. In my haste I totally neglected the fact that I was shaking that braced index finger near the middle hook which was free. I felt the tip of that hook lightly poke my index finger and I went to move point away from my finger.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing the barb was straight down into my index finger! I tried to remove it but I was quickly clear that it wasn't going anywhere.
Panic quickly started to set in, I'm hooked the bass is hooked to the lure I'm hooked to the lure and the bass can easily be bouncing around on the boga. I quickly took it to the sand and put a death grip on it. A near-by fisherman had just released a bass when I approached him. "Hey do you think you could do me a really big favor and unhook this bass, I sorta hooked myself"
Now what happened next had to be amazing odds of all the potential people I could have fished next to and chose to ask for help. This gentleman pulled out his pliers complete with split ring and in about 30 seconds flat removed the treble from lure and even unhooked my bass, I was stunned and quite pleased. Now I only had a 6/0 treble going straight down my index finger. He was a master with those pliers and a true savior.
Again if I could have done things all over I would have stayed with that blitz and just fished with my impaled index finger sticking out. However there is just something freaky about a piece of stainless steel impaled in your finger... I panicked and headed off the beach.
I pulled on the hook some but it was clearly not coming out. I didn't get far before I passed a lady out for a morning walk, note to self moving forward, "Don't ask people which hospital is closest, it tends to make them panic". Back at the truck I directed two anglers to the blitz and they couldn't understand why I was leaving until I showed them my finger. They took a quick look thanked me and high tailed it up the beach.
It's unlikely it will ever make it to a book. I got the stories, writing it is semi easy. The distribution or Interest is the question. At any rate here is a sample story of a memorable surf fishing day that i think was back in the fall of 2004. I might have to break this up into a few parts due to the length.
------------
Boat Bluefish Bonanza!
The fall had been fairly warm and off to a slow start for bass. I was fishing a three day weekend into Monday hoping for that first good wave of bass to come through. Just as the weekend hit we got more weather I didn't want, warm with sun and SW winds. I also planned to be fishing on the boat the following day and the forecast was nearly the same.
I started fishing Manasquan on Saturday. I spent time fishing all around the various beaches and a few rock piles and only a few small blues racing in and out of the inlet before dusk. But hey it was something at least until the bass show up.
The following morning we cleared the inlet around 7 am and even early on you could see it was going to be a nice very mild fall day. We started to troll trying to locate schools of game fish by dropping trolling plugs and bunker spoons. It was not long before the rods started to bend. The only thing was they were 6-12 lb blues on the other end. Sometimes two blues at a time was how the day started. We went right through the middle and fished... all blues all day long at all stops.
My uncle, as he often is, was intent on dragging the spoons in hopes of finding big bass, but they were like a bluefish magnets. Mid day temperatures pressed into the high 60s. Between the warm temps and the 300 foot wire line workout I kept taking off jackets and sweatshirts. I was down to just a shirt.
I normally don't mind the fight of a big bluefish, but dragging them with the boat on wire line quickly lost its appeal. It wasn't long before it was obvious the striped ones weren't there or weren't willing to cooperate.
After about the 30th blue I could really start to feel it in my back and forearm. It was one of the very few times where I literally couldn't handle much more. My uncle worked the helm while George and myself started to go into "you take this one" arguments. "No way isn't it your turn I think i had the last one" :lookhappy:
George and I, totally worn out, finally came to the agreement that enough was enough and time to head in. That morning I had looked at Mondays weather and saw exactly what I was looking for. Coming a day later then I really wanted, low 50 with a 15 mph North West wind, a little cold front was coming through.
The whole time Sunday on the boat I kept saying we are a day early. As the boat approached the inlet I saw a little more birds at the mouth than usual and not the tiny scrap picking birds, these looked like a few terns in the mix. After washing down and cleaning the boat I grabbed my surf stick and headed to the Jetty at the inlet.
As I walked up there about an hour later, the inlet was now engulfed in birds, and I could tell by fishermen's postures something was going on. There was definitely a lot of fish on both sides of the jetty but they were all blue. Mostly midsized 4-5 lb blue fish came in and all the rods were bent. I used what little energy and strength I had left to get into the mix.
After taking a few, the highlight was one of the blues biting or breaking my cordell plastic pencil in two. :eek:
I switched to a shad I happened to have handy in my pocket and a 5lber was quickly on it. A couple was taking a leisurely walk out onto the Jetty just as I was about to pump the blue up the rocks.
On the first hard pump the blue shook the hook and what was left of the shad including the lead and hook went flying like a pendulum. I could hear the shrieks from the couple behind me with the projectile headed their way. :scared:
Well I've seen this move before. I had to keep my rod high the whole time and flipped it forward in mid flight protecting the civilians in the process. Little did I know then an accident was in fact waiting to happen this weekend and it involved no civilians. After that I had enough. I left the blues and went back and passed out about 7:30 PM, totally unaware that one of best and worst days would soon follow.
Blitz day - Game on!
I woke up about 4 am. As soon as I opened the door I felt the cool winds and colder air. High tide was going to be right around day break, perfect conditions... this is it I thought to myself! I went back to the big jetty to already find 2 others working it in the darkness. I fished all along the jetty and surrounding beach area for an hour and a half without a hit, I couldn't believe it. :huh:
Now I suddenly would have loved to have a nice bluefish hit me. My fingers were chilly. I was painfully bored getting that feeling that I don't even remember what a hit feels like. I kept thinking "no big deal" so many times I don't get them in darkness and at that first crack of light the fish show up to feed.
Well dawn came and still no fish. After about an hour it seemed hopeless. I had taken the day off so I continued to try. Now fully light out a good hour and a half into light, I was about to make a move walking off the far end of the big jetty. I started to see some birds a few hundred yards north. I didn't think too much of it at first but they continued to linger.
This is where I made a mistake I don't plan to make again too often. I had just gone 3 hours without a strike and I was being lazy watching a few birds get increasingly thicker. I could have easily walked there in 5 minutes or even better yet, ran there in 2 mins. I stepped down to the pocket to have a chat with a Fly fisherman who was doing equally as bad as myself. "There's a few birds up there, might be something, probably some blues" I said.
Here was where I made another mistake, took some bad advice. The Fly fisherman said "they are coming this way, the current will bring them right to us" For about two minutes the birds definitely looked closer but then as I looked again they were moving north away from us, and they were now too thick to ignore.
After waiting with the Fly guy for a little too long I said " I think we have to go after them" He seemed disinterested in moving with me. I finally got my lazy butt up the beach solo. As I started to get closer to the birds a few anglers were coming down directly toward them from the street too. I hadn't gotten to the birds totally just yet but I was close enough to take a cast and catch my wind from my double time pace.
I went with a 2 oz pencil and a few pops it got taken down, finally! As I reeled it to the wash I was thinking please please have stripes. As I slide the fish up the sand I was very disappointed to see it was a mid size blue. Again I was thinking "oh well its something" and I don't mind catching them from the surf.
I repositioned about 30 yards north, now directly with the birds and two fisherman who came down from the street. Within seconds all three of us were hooked up at about the same time. The blitz was definately on and things suddenly got very interesting as all three of us simultaneously slide stripers onto the beach. YES they are bass!:dribble:
Although there was no surface activity there was a good body of bass right outside the wash, with seemingly that one lone blue just to throw me off mentally. Another angler now joined the action to our left, the fly guy still casting into dead water down the beach. For the first 10 casts it was hard not to get a hit on the popper and I took about 5 bass in no time at all, this is what I had been waiting for! After releasing one I went about a 5 hitless casts and I noticed the birds slide a little more north but not too much, the newest angler to the blitz was on them and hooked up.
I repositioned again about another 30 yards. Soon as the pencil started to pop a bass took it down. After a quick release the next cast produced the same result another nice bass immediately smacked it. Only this time when I landed it I immediately could see just the tip of the pencil sticking out its mouth.
If I could do it over I would have unsnapped the lure, threw the fish on the beach and kept fishing. However in a blitz you look to your right and left and see bent rods birds diving fish flopping on the beach. Every moment you aren't casting into the water feels like an eternity and it seems like the only thought on your mind is I MUST CATCH TONS OF BASS RIGHT NOW!
The mistakes were already starting to pile up for the day and I was about to make my biggest one yet.
The pliers I chose to use that day were pretty much basic household needle nose type, not the extended needle version ones. The fish had the plug straight down its mouth and the trailer hook was hooked pretty far down. I lipped the bass with the boga and braced the metal part of pliers with my index finger for leverage because I knew I was about to stick them way down there. The only thought on my mind being get back into the blitz, need to get back into the water pronto.
I clenched the trailer hook with the pliers and started to shake it up and down and side to side. In my haste I totally neglected the fact that I was shaking that braced index finger near the middle hook which was free. I felt the tip of that hook lightly poke my index finger and I went to move point away from my finger.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing the barb was straight down into my index finger! I tried to remove it but I was quickly clear that it wasn't going anywhere.
Panic quickly started to set in, I'm hooked the bass is hooked to the lure I'm hooked to the lure and the bass can easily be bouncing around on the boga. I quickly took it to the sand and put a death grip on it. A near-by fisherman had just released a bass when I approached him. "Hey do you think you could do me a really big favor and unhook this bass, I sorta hooked myself"
Now what happened next had to be amazing odds of all the potential people I could have fished next to and chose to ask for help. This gentleman pulled out his pliers complete with split ring and in about 30 seconds flat removed the treble from lure and even unhooked my bass, I was stunned and quite pleased. Now I only had a 6/0 treble going straight down my index finger. He was a master with those pliers and a true savior.
Again if I could have done things all over I would have stayed with that blitz and just fished with my impaled index finger sticking out. However there is just something freaky about a piece of stainless steel impaled in your finger... I panicked and headed off the beach.
I pulled on the hook some but it was clearly not coming out. I didn't get far before I passed a lady out for a morning walk, note to self moving forward, "Don't ask people which hospital is closest, it tends to make them panic". Back at the truck I directed two anglers to the blitz and they couldn't understand why I was leaving until I showed them my finger. They took a quick look thanked me and high tailed it up the beach.