Fish on: They are out there — somewhere
Fish this size, landed by our columnist, have been few and far between these days.
It appears from all the reports that I’ve gathered from shore and boat fishermen that there are zero bluefish around the Island.
I couldn’t get a report about Jessups and can only assume they’re not there either. On the other hand, in spite of my moaning about bass populations, I have seen a small but consistent number of 20- to 24-inch bass in the shallows around the Island and have caught a few of that size and larger on plugs on every tide.
I have no idea what they’re feeding on since there are no sand eels in our waters and stripers just won’t stay in an area very long if they don’t have an adequate supply of easy prey, like the sand eels, on hand.
Hopefully the polluted waters from Riverhead are diluted enough when they flow by Shelter Island so that won’t be a problem for our fish population. On the other hand, maybe that is the reason for the lack of sand eels. Time will tell.
Here’s a true fish story. I have been trying to fish three days a week if the weather lets me. Two days after my last column that trumpeted how the fish, at least the striped bass, were hitting everything that moved, they picked up stakes and went on their way. After they left, I went out early in the morning on the incoming tide or late in the day on the same tide and had little luck. I tried the outgoing tide early and late and all around the Island and did little better.
Finally I thought the “big ones” had to be in Plum Gut because there is always bait for the gamefish there. It was time to go hunting for them.
On a foggy day last week, at risk to life and limb, I ran out to the Gut and started to throw plugs around my favorite spots. I thought the weather was perfect for casting surface plugs since there was a calm sea for maximum splashes from my popping plug, fog to shroud me from view and cause the fish to be less cautious and a good tide running so the bait couldn’t run from the fish. I knew I couldn’t miss.
It started very slowly and got even slower on the south side beaches without a single swirl, follow or hit on my plug. I went to the east side and tried there to no avail. After — by actual count — 250-plus casts with three different lures, I decided the fish really weren’t near Plum and started my trek home, tail between my legs.
As I neared the Island, I thought I would give one last set of rocks a chance before I quit for the day. I stopped my gas engine about 100 yards offshore and motored in on my electric motor so as not to alert the fish of my approach. I started to throw my plug shoreward around the shore rocks and after about 25 casts I actually got a small bass to eat the plug and I landed it, finally getting the “skunk out of the boat” as the saying goes. Another 25 casts and I was whipped, the fish weren’t interested, so I revved up the electric and headed out to the deeper water.
By sheer force of habit I threw my plug out into the deeper water on the way out and on the second cast I had a huge, explosive hit and hooked a very strong and angry fish.
It started to run toward the bow of the boat and I re-set the hooks to make sure the hooks were really in its jaw. It became apparent that I had to reduce the speed of the motor quickly since I was having trouble keeping the line taut because the fish was moving in the same direction I was.
Bending down and cutting the power, I turned to concentrate on fighting the fish and it fought right back, starting another good run away from me. Sure I had the upper hand, I applied all the pressure that I could with the light spinning rod and 14 -pound test braid to turn the fish, thinking it was as good as in the landing net.
But the fish stopped running away and lunged hard to one side almost yanking me overboard. My line went slack. I cranked like mad thinking he had turned and was sprinting toward me and tried to “get tight” on the fish again but it was not to be.
I cranked in my plug that had collected some weeds and as I stripped it away, I noticed that the hook in the center of the lure didn’t look quite right to me. Upon closer examination I saw it had been partially straightened out by the force that the bass had exerted on it and had pried itself loose, half straightening the hook as he did so.
The less formidable feathered tail hook that came with the plug was straightened somewhat too. How can a fish pull so hard that it doesn’t break 14-pound braided line but still straighten a hook like a VMC 4X? Those hooks do not bend easily. I’ll bet I could tow a boat on a trailer using one of them as a connector to the trailer. The real culprit was me because I had put too much pressure on the fish and didn’t leave my reel’s drag loose enough to do its thing and allow line to peel when the fish lunged away from me.
I worked hard to salvage a lousy day, got a lucky break and hooked a very big fish on a blind cast to nowhere and blew the happy ending by not following my own rules. I felt like a jerk, but rationalized that even a Gold Glove winner in baseball makes an error from time to time.
Quote of the week: This summer marks the 40th anniversary of “Jaws” and aside from the comment, “You’re gonna need a bigger boat,” the next best line was, “Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the water…” followed by the dum-dum, dum-dum of the soundtrack.
How To corner:
Before you start casting, set your reel drag so that it takes a good tug to get it coming off smoothly, but still allows it to come off steadily if a big fish wants to run away from you. If the situation gets serious and you can’t turn the fish, you can tighten the drag a little more but it must have the ability to slowly peel off or you will break your line or leader or worse, get a straightened hook. And remember to loosen the drag after fishing or you will bend the washers in your drag mechanism and ruin your drag.
