11.17.25 And so it begins....

 

     Well, well, well. It's only a matter of time. All those bass, either out past the three mile line, inside the line, in the bays and rivers, or along the beach HAVE, well choose, to move south. Eventually they will pass by you, most out of range, but every now and then, they're in close.

     John from Betty and Nicks gives a daily update, which pisses some people off, regarding the general idea where the action has been. It seems like Monmouth County is starting to see some action as those Raritan Bay bass peel around the False Hook and those fish that were hugging the New York beaches around the Rockaways have started to move. 

     What does that all mean? Not much unless you go, and put the time in. Fish in Monmouth County? Well that could be from the tip of the Death Walk down to the Manasquan Inlet. You might be able to find them at 6, 8, 10, 12 , 2 or 4 o'clock, if you're in the right place at the right time. If you're lucky they may be in Monmouth Beach and if you're in Long Branch they may show as they move south. 

     If you don't have a crew then your cell phone won't help, but some binoculars and your truck will. They're on the move, and you should be as well. These fish don't hold like they used to, especially in those towns that Frank Pallone and his cronies have ruined with beach replenishment. 

     But, it seems, the fish are here, or around, and not boat fish. It's wood burning stove installation for me today, 12-hour shifts in the hospital tomorrow and Wednesday, and date day on Thursday heading out to Lancaster for Sight and Sounds NOAH. Then it's back to the long-term care facility with the students on Friday. So, you won't catch me out there. Catch em' up.

11.15.25 I hit the Inter-state Fly Tying Symposium....

     It was 730 and I had to make the quick decision. Do I hit the International Fly Tying Symposium or not? I didn't feel like making the hours plus drive up to Somerset and was worried it would throw a monkey wrench into my continued push to get things done around the house. Mondays a big day here as we're getting a wood stove installed at the house. I had already turned down a boat trip in Raritan Bay with Mike Ferraro due to to many things on my plate. But I went anyway.

     When I pulled into the parking lot there were a ton of cars. Like a lot. But I realized those lots held vehicles for two hotels, plus anyone working or attending the show. I had missed the first push waiting line to get in since I got there at 910, ten minutes after the start time. 

      The first thing I noticed was the lobby outside the Somerset Ballroom was empty. Last year there were some vendors outside like Brad Buzzi but this year it all fit inside. To note BuzFly was missed this year and while walking around I heard at least four guys say, "Where's Brad set-up this year". many, many people come to this show just to buy tails. I hope all is well with him.

     Inside there was an early show buzz. Tiers along the perimeter and vendors on the inside. To be honest the International Fly Tying Symposium, which boasted tiers from around the globe, should really be called the Interstate Fly Tying Symposium. In the past tiers from England and Norway, Italy and Scotland, and Canada and Belgium attended but now are from states with counties like Ocean and Monmouth (NJ), Sullivan and Nassau (NY), and Monroe and Lackawanna (PA). In fact, almost all of the attendees just needed a current EZ-Pass account rather than a passport to get here.

     By 930 tiers were set up and most had a visitor or two stopping by to say hello or see what was being tied up. I didn't see the vending of flies going on like I have in the past. Most flies were on display, rather than grouped into categories by price. I know the shows charge a bounty if you are vending and tying rather than just tying. But the action was inside the four walls.

     J. Stockard Fly Fishing, a big catalogue company from Connecticut, made the trip down and took over the Hareline/Keogh/AHREX/Regal Vice space in the middle of the floor. They had some Keogh stuff in the middle but it wasn't the must pick through vibe like you see at The Fly 

Fishing Show. At any time, especially right after the doors blow open, you'll find a guy with all kinds of capes, necks, or saddles draped over their arms. 

     I walked over a couple of rows and found Joe already working the bottom of one of the bins at the Classic Fly Fishing booth. He is one of the best pickers I've ever seen. He had a bag full of stuff and probably got the pick of the litter. I went for $9 grabbing two packs of flash and a bucktail at $3 each. When I showed him the one long pearl flash he said, "Where'd you find that?", leaving me feeling I snagged something he would have grabbed. These booths always 

kill it at the shows with folks looking for those tough to find materials or heavily discounted stuff. It can be not only fun but good savings as well. Not all welcome booths like this because they can have a negative impact, in terms of cash flow, on the other vendor's booths. This row of booths was strategically located towards the back of the floor. If it was in the front when you first walked in people would have stopped and spent and then left. As the minutes ticked the traffic at this booth grew. Just about everyone who turned the corner stopped in. It was the place to be. But there were a few other places to browse as well. 

     I stopped to snap the above picture because I was drawn to the guy looking at the vices. Like I predicted the vice makers sat this one out. Last year Renzetti, HMH, Norvice, and Regal were all in attendance and trying to get their slice of the vice pie. But this year it was just Steve 

Silverio holding it down with Regal. It says something when fly tying vice manufacturers decide not to attend an international fly tying show here in the United States. Again, these shows are changing, and not for the better, and it becomes risk vs gain, or investment vs return. And as I've said that doesn't fall squarely on the Furmisky's back, but on a combination of costs, buyer patterns, like the internet and catalogue, and overall interest in this sport. 

     But it wouldn't be fair to say I left not seeing something cool. Jersey's own Joe Nicosia was set up across from the picking booth tying away some flies. "I've been tying up a ton of Albie 

Whores", he said. It's funny. I remember a few years back when the Cancel Culture was strong and hit just about every part of life as we knew it, and Richard Reagan's creation, the Albie Whore, wasn't spared, depending on what shop or retailer you were buying them from. These days you can find that fly, with its original name, in most of the big shops. But, to be fair, I can see when and maybe if, you might have to roll an alternate name. 

     Let's say a Dad and his daughter stop by Joe's booth for a look. She is drawn to the pink and chartreuse flies that lay on the table. "Dad, what are these?". "Well, Cindy Lou these are Albie Whore's, great for when albies are on white bait". So then Cindy Lou writes in down on her Christmas wish list to Santa, "Santa please bring me some Albie Whores". Oh, and that list, she reads it out loud to her 6th grade class. I know, I'm old and soft now. In reality Joe would just have told the pair these are Albie Candies and left it at that. The guy around the corner was offering his flies, the Anal Intruders, for sale. Good luck with that. 

     But Nicosia demonstrated something cool he is using for the heads of these AWs. He's using a glue gun to make the heads on the fly. In the past two-part epoxy, and then acrylics, both in hard or flex, were used. Watching him tie and apply was interesting. If you look at his table he's one of the more organized and tiers I know. Everything is neat, works, and perfect. He's a great fly tier. He had out a few squids he tied with Bob's Fleye Foils which I wish I took a picture of one of them, or slid one into my pocket. I'm kidding of course. 

     I noticed fly angler, guide, and tier Son Tao on my way around. I don't know him and never met him but see his name from time to time in the magazines and on social media. He's comes 

from Pennsylvania, well resides there now, originally from Vietnam. He's become a big proponent for Project Healing Waters having picked up fly fishing after his service in the United States Army which he joined shortly after 9/11.  

     So it may have sounded like I had a long morning at the show. Truth be told, all of the above, plus a trip to the ATM machine, a stop for a bagel in the lobby, and a cleanout in stall #2 in the men's room, had me ready to leave at 1010. All that fun in 50 minutes, at .40 cents a minute, and cash only please, for the $20 entry fee. 

     I said good-bye to John Kavanaugh who was sitting in the lobby on my way out, "That didn't take long", he said. He was right. Unless you were there for the early pick, or to see someone, or catch a seminar or fly tying demo, then it's a quick browse and go. I did stop 

and poke my head in to Tim Flagler's seminar on "What trout like to eat and how to catch them", but I didn't stay. He does a great job with his tying productions and seminars. 

     Well this one will be my last. I'm good. The show needs to morph into something else, which could include being swallowed up by The Fly Fishing Show and incorporating them together. I'm sure they are two independent businesses and there's the whole business side of merging them. But if it wasn't for the picking booths there wouldn't have been that much of a buzz. I feel fly fishing right now isn't doing all that well. Guys and girls still fish, still tie, but the excitement and the passion, at least for me, has subsided. Shows used to be a must attend by the who's who in the industry, but not any more. It's a one night hang at the show, and you don't know if it's the Friday or Saturday. Pick the wrong night and you'll be choking down microwaved chicken nuggets with a beer at the lobby bar, with people you normally wouldn't hang with. And the poor state of the striped bass fishery, don't get me started. The ASMFC. Slots. Bunker boats. Three-mile line violators. All boat fish. Shitty pics on social media. Blah blah blah. 

     I thought the above image was something. Last year this back row was lined with people. Not this year. In their place was a poster remembering Bob that was on display at the show last year. If he was in that poster looking out I wonder what he would think of how fly fishing and tying is going these days. But at least he was in eye shot of the picking booths. 

11.13.25 Time better spent....

     By 11 am I was on the phone with Leif. I had already put in 5 hours on the heat gun and it was time to make the decision...should I stay or should I go. He had stopped by the beach earlier and said it just looked dead. Less than 5 boats, about 5 birds, and a lazy incoming tide that didn't show much for life. Could that change in an instant? Yes. But, what would be the return on investment? 

     So I had to rely on the old eyes in the sky. Staying would mean more work around the house, going would mean driving and looking, with more driving to and back. It just seems like it's a boat game this fall, at least so far. Fish caught from the beach, for sure, but not in any numbers and typically not fly rod friendly. Going would be akin to going to the well and asking your wife if you could do something, knowing there are only so many yeses in her head. So I decided to roll the dice and stay and work. I feel there will be other days, maybe sooner or later, where the trip will either pay off, or I'll be left standing there listening to 'You should have been here yesterday?".

11.12.25 What to do at 0222?....

 

     It was another Tuesday around 730 pm last night when I rolled into my driveway after another long 12-hour clinical shift at the hospital. Another day with nine nursing students. Each sitting in different spots in this 3/4ths completed fall semester of their senior year. Some sitting comfortably above the 80% passing grade, some sitting just above the line, and some just below. Balancing all of that while keeping them interested and focused at the bedside isn't an always an easy chore. Nursing school comes down to one thing....passing, and it's all exam scores and making that 80%. 

     Most nursing programs evaluate a students success solely based on exam scores, with the clinical and lab portions pass/fail. If you're a good test taker then you're good, if not, or can't grasp critical thinking, then each exam is live or die. If you've been, or know someone in the game, then you know how critical each exam is. Throw one exam and you spend the rest of the semester on that 80% line and playing catch up.

     Keeping them engaged on weeks after they took an exam, or have one upcoming, can be challenging. Their eye is on the prize, with both a solid performance on the exam, and graduation six months away. Patient assignments, assessments, med pass, running on Code Strokes, Code Blues, or Trauma Codes, keeps their heads in the game. And during the down time it's reinforcing the hands on stuff that nurses do balanced with A&P, disease process, assessment, interventions and treatment. Making the connections and readying them for the NCLEX and the real world is a daunting task. 

     So by the time the days over I'm beat. 57 isn't old, but it isn't young either. If I started early I am old enough to be some of the student's grandfathers. Some of the students call me Pop-Pop, or Pops, especially when I have my 3.0+ Clics on to read the small, well normal, sized-print in a drug book or the patients chart. If I had a step counter on then I'm no doubt walking 20 miles a day in and around Capital Health's Regional Medical Center. One of my last jaunts last evening with a student was hightailing it from the helipad on the roof down the stairs to the Shock Trauma Bay. By the time we hit the first floor I could feel it. But their excitement in getting there kept this old(er) Pops going. 

     When I got home I took off my lab coat and plopped in my old man recliner. It's an old leather one, with the button on the side which kicks my legs out in the perfect napping position. It's the one you see on Facebook Marketplace with the head spot worn out from whatever hair I have left fractioning against the fake leather, wearing it thin. Theresa made me dinner and served it on my lap. I put on the Roku channel and watched another 1,000th episode of Law and Order from the 1990's while surfing through the online wedding album from Tara and Simon's recent wedding. As I chewed and surfed I could feel my eye lids start to get heavy. It was time, and it wasn't even 8 o'clock. 

     The recent time change has me off a bit. Instead of hitting the sack at 8-830 it's now around 7 pm when I'm ready for the heated blanket and bedside fan. And instead of waking at 4 am, which I regularly do, it's now before 3 am, and today it was around 2. I woke up thinking of the usual. Did I hit the lottery? Did I go over properly the algorithm for emergency treatment of cariogenic shock for the patient we had in the ED yesterday? What's the dosing of Levophed? What's the plan for Thanksgiving? And what's the plan for today, Wednesday, my day off from work? 

     Since transferring from Essex County College in Newark to Capital Health School of Nursing my quality of life has improved greatly. The commute was a killer. On the road before 5 am and getting home after 7 pm. The driving, the tolls, the gas, and the time. Add to that going all in with 80-100 students left it all on the table, and little in the tank. So, now with time, the last three months I've been on a house project tear. It all started after the pipe busting flood we had while we were in Ireland. That brought me from work on the inside to the outside. And with winter coming each day of scraping and painting is like a race against time, and the cold. Before each day in the hospital I spend an hour the night before trying to get the paint out from under my nails and off the skin on my fingers. I do that so patients aren't freaked out that the repairman isn't placing a Foley catheter or starting an IV. Thank God for gloves. 

     But I'm also sitting in bed, trying not to wake Theresa, thinking about fishing. While fly fishing for striped bass in the spring has become my don't miss, the fall still calls. Should I go now? Fish in the dark like the sharpies do? If I leave now I'll be down there, most likely alone, by 4 am. 

      To me the fall is a daytime thing. That's not the rule, just my thinking. First light, sure, but it's the birds, and the bait, and the bass hunting that is more fall than spring. It's hard to do that during the graveyard shift. And if I go I know I'll be cold before first light even breaks the horizon. Couple that with dead-low tides around 6 am and I know I'll just be casting a fly into the skinny water from the recently formed new beaches from the recent weather and strong tides. 

     If I don't go then what? I could start my day getting ready for another day with heat gun in hand burning lead paint off inch my inch on the 100 year old wooden boards on the house. If it's around 50 degrees I could sand, prime, and paint. I have one side left with about six boards that are about 30 feet long. Surely time better spent. And since I don't know what the rest of the fall will do weather wise it just seems like a smarter option. Should I wait for the mid-day light and tides when there's visibility and water on the beach to go and run and find some fish? Or will it just be a burn, sand, and paint session mixed in with my checking the on-line reports and cams searching for bass on the beach? 

     That's what the fall runs have become, at least for me. When I used to live in Ocean Township, and then on Phillip's Avenue in Deal, or even Red Bank, making that 20 minute, or 20 second, run down to the beach wasn't a big deal. The fish were there, or not. But now over an hour a way those quick look and fish sessions, or just looks, are more of a commitment. And really it's not fishing, it's more like hunting, with a truck and a pair of binoculars, and a cell phone. It comes to risk vs gain, or winning vs failure. And it's very annoying. It's really not fun until you are down there. If and when it happens, it's great, if not, it's a ride home with me telling myself it was a dumb decision to go. 

     So I'll roll the dice today. It's now 312 am. If I go and I'm right, like there was nothing going on, then I won't have to drive home around 12 and peer over to those six unpainted boards sticking out with 100 year old flaked paint sticking out like alligator skin. And if I stay it'll be with a heat gun in hand trying not gouge out the exposed wood with my go-to scraper, one that has become an extension of my hands. One I know just when to advance and get a good 4 inch strip off as the paint heats up. Getting that done, and then running down for a mid-day session seems like better time well spent. We'll see if I made the right call. 

11.10.25 And just like that the slot fished arrived...

 

    Report courtesy of Captain Ron Santee of the Fisherman based out of Atlantic Highlands. He's one guy who always gives you a fair report. Again, I'm not in a boat so I won't be following him, but surely others will be on the lookout. Why is his report interesting? Well it seems today he found the "normal" sized bass that are making this fall run. 

     These are the slot, 28-31" inch fish, and Bonus Tag sized, which is 24- 28". These are usually found in bigger numbers than their first arriving larger females. So these are either the smaller males, or a mix of females and males. And the good thing is these fish, IMHO, tend to want to drift, every now and then, onto the beaches. 

     Say what you want about the ASMFC and it's kicking the can down the road approach to striped bass management, these fish are all legal. Some, myself included, say that these fish are, well were, the future. These are the 2018 (last good year) and 2019 (first year of seven bad ones) year class fish, the ones we should be leaving alone to hopefully

keep the species going. A little much, maybe, but I believe that more fish in the water COULD lead to better spawning in the next few years, and maybe the next few after that.

     No doubt the bunker, the environmental conditions, predation, and natural death play a role in decreasing numbers, but taking these fish, and way you arrive at F, isn't helping things. I know, all legal, good eating, not always easy picken's. It is what it is. You can't fault a Captain or their sports from doing what is legal. And, truthfully, one fish per angler, and not that plus the Captain and the mate BS, really is responsible, and should be sustainable, even if the decks show dead bass between the legs. Lots of anglers means lots of fish, one per of course. 

     And nature, boat, and fishy photographer Wendi Bennet posted the above photo from this past week. I thought it was a throwback from 2011, but it wasn't. That's Seaside and always a place that draws anglers when the fish, or at least the word, gets out that the bait and fish are around. I can tell you that's a tough place for a fly rodder to get into and catch, especially when the fish and bait are out over the bar. 

     We're looking at a big drop in temps and some stupid wind, again, the next day or so, making Thanksgiving week just in time for the annual drive around and look through the binocular "fishing" outing. 

11.08.25 I went fishing this week so I can talk....

 

     Well, well, well. I guess you could say we're off and running to the "other" Fall Run, the one where the bait and bass hit the beach. But the question is, beach? When and where and what each beach looks like is the big question. And that question, well the answer, usually leaves me asking the question, "Are they even fly rod fish?".

     It's always a big decision on which way I turn off of Route 195. It's basically north or south. This time of year the bass can show in front of any beach at a moments turn, and it's basically being in the right place at the right time. When I went Wednesday, to the north, I didn't find them, but they had them south. 

     At my last stop before heading west I gave it one last look. Besides looking for the bait, birds, and bass, I looked at the beach structure to see how it looked. Interestingly I found, while the beaches and beach scarp, and pockets, where looking good following the recent storms, the area's off the beaches, looked more like the flats around Martha's Vineyard then the Jersey Shore. Between each set of groins there was a trough, a good place for bait and bass, but then there is now a huge flat, aka sand bar, that extends way off the beach. Depending on the tide, moon, and wind, water can either be in there, or not. 

     When you stand their fishing, well looking with binoculars in had, you can see that darkish line running down along the beach, at times with bass blowing up around and in the bait pods. If you're lucky they push in, if not, then you're pretty much wasting your time. If you're outfitted with a long fishing rod, and a 6 ounce plug, metal, or rubber, then you can cast 1,800 feet to get to where the fish are. Oh, let me nor forget the snag and drop crowd, that's both illegal, with a treble snagging hook, or legal, with some homemade Circle hook contraption wired up for the same effect. 

     But if you fish with the long rod then it's even more of a waiting game. Imagine your 30 foot cast basically reaching the start of the bar or flat. Pretty much useless. Yes, you're fishing, but your chances of catching are slim to none. Can you catch the errant and lost bass making its way south? Yes, but that's a unicorn there. 

     So while I was north they had fish south. Of course the boats could and did find them, but that's not what I'm talking about. And to be honest, it wasn't a plethora of fish, bait yes, but bass no. But there was some big fish patrolling the bunker, mackerel, spike weakfish, and white bait clouds. 

    What made me think, and feel better, was a post I saw on the Asbury Park Press social media page. Dan Radel was reporting on the Ocean County bite this past week. Interestingly the lead 

image was of an angler in a wetsuit who ventured way out to land a 26 pound-bass on a Glide Bait. From the looks of it the angler had to wade, maybe chest high, through the trough to get the bar, or flat. And these aren't your narrow and nature made sand bars, where's there's only room for a few anglers standing in a line. These are big, like acres, and a mile long, and wide, extending way off the beach. 

     What causes this? Well, it's simple. You know how I feel about beach replenishment, or funnier, nourishment. The storms pull the sand off the beach and it sits either between the groins are just runs parallel to the beach. On a low tide you can walk out to get to the deeper water, but on a higher tide, or during a weather event, you could just be casting in skinny water that is barren of bait and bass. Could they come in, yes. Could they come in and trap the baitfish in the troughs? Of course. But timing, and being there, is everything. 

     Social media, and the cell phone network, keeps us all abreast, albeit hours or a day late, on where the fish have been, recently. The beach cams have become another "source" of intel both before, during, and after giving it a go. Chasing them will drive you nuts. One honest post on the APP report came from Richard Samons, below. 

     While I love live swimming baits this time of year, like peanuts and adult bunker, those offerings can make for an extremely frustrating outing, even if the spin guys to your left and right are catching. Sand eels are a better option, because, well, they like to bury in the sand, when not on the move. They are a great first, last, and in-between light bight. They get dislodged along the beach with wave action or the rooting around or tail fanning by bass because know they are there. 

     Years ago, you would get bass that paused on their migration south to feed. They'd stick to beaches, or counties, or structure, and root around and feed or push the bait into the shallows when it passed heading south. Not any more. It's blitz all-or-none fishing. The bass are glued to the bait, and it moves, more often, north to south, and not east to west. 

     In good timing with this post local and federal authorities announced this week that a 54 -million dollar beach replenishment project scheduled for Cape May county will not move forward. 

     What was the key? It was all about the sand. And if you have followed beach replenishment then you know the sand, or more so the rocks and pebbles and detris that gets pumped onto the beaches isn't sand at all. You see, what happens is there are donor sites, like organ donation, where they pump the "bottom" up, transport it, and then "pump" it onto the beaches. That's not 

beach sand, trust me, if you've walked it, or almost walked off it, then you know. It's not natural, and it doesn't act natural. Hence, that's why we have sand up to 1,000 feet off the beaches these days. 

     So while funding, not local, but state and federal, was ready to be spent the issue was the source, or donor site, of the sand. The plan was to dredge up the sand along the Wildwood and Wildwood Crest beaches and then pump it onto the North Wildwood beaches, just south of the Hereford Inlet. It would be like robbing Peter to pay Paul. Those long and wide beaches are relatively natural, and are a huge tourist magnet in the summer months. Unfortunately the location of North Wildwood makes it a target for natural beach erosion, something people with beach front homes, and a town with beach revenue, can live with. 

     And then there was the other option, which will probably either be sand from an offshore donor site or from dredging the Hereford Inlet up onto the North Wildwood beaches. It was basically part of of Hereford to Cape May Inlets project, thankfully, now put on hold for now. 

     This weekend and early next week things are setting up nicely. We still have water in the morning and late afternoon, the winds are coming from the west, then the east and south, before going west on Monday and Tuesday. The bait is on the move and there's fish, some fish, in and around them. We lose the tides during as we head into the next few weeks. 

     And if you a fly rodder, do yourself a favor and stop basing your outings on what you see and hear from your electronic sources. Metal lips, shads, Ava's, bunker chunks, snag and drop (legally), and glide bait reports shouldn't get you all jazzed up. Learning there's fish around Monmouth or Ocean County, yes. But remember, before you decide to go left or right, are these even fly rod fish? 

You can go and get yourself a used wetsuit and get out there. But before you do just imagine you in your fat skin on a grape wetsuit with your stripping basket up around your neck trying to wade through the trough to get next to those young spin rod sharpies. Then think again and just wait, or just go fish like you do. 

11.05.25 "I got guys, I'm just waiting for the call"...

     "I'm just waiting for the call...". Those were the words coming from a guy as I made my way across the boardwalk after fishing my first stop for the day. He prefaced it with, "I got guys", meaning he was one of the northern scouts and there were guys down south. It was the cell phone fishing club in full effect. Before he left he let me know, "We had them good from Belmar and south yesterday. My buddy got two 45's (inches)".

     So I was hopeful, although I didn't know if I went in the right direction off 195. I had to pull the trigger, continue east to Route 18 and beaches north, continue east to towards Belmar, or hit Route 34 and head down into Ocean County. Like a magnet I was just drawn north. 

     I got to Deal at 445 and shook off the cobwebs and set up my rod. Luckily I had just about everything I needed right where I had left it. I went through the flies and went with a, larger then it looks, Slider thinking there was adult bunker around.  It would fun to see a fish blow up on topwater as the first light arrived, although the full moon had wings pretty lit up.

     While there were sand eels off the beaches last week I haven't heard that as much but many boats and shore based anglers are jigging or throwing Ava's. There's been a mix of peanuts, mediums, and adult bunker on and off the beaches. To everyone's surprise some type of mackerel showed up and was chasing small bait in the shallows which brought the bass in on the hunt. 

     I had a banner day at work Tuesday in the hospital. The students and I were on a new unit and they knocked it out of the park, so I was all jazzed up. I have burnt enough lead paint off the outside of the house that my brain is probably swollen so I needed a day off from that. I had low expectations, but was hopeful, that at some point I'd find a fish or two. 

     I used Deal as a place to get ready, then fished in the dark, and chilly, Long Branch until first light, and then, after a good bagel in Long Branch (FiNagle the Bagel, cash only, near Caputo's) I did the circuit. I didn't see any bait or much for birds in my first three stops. At each one I got excited making my way to the view of the water with binoculars in hand. Only to let down by no signs of life. 

     At each stop it was kind of ho-hum water to look at. There wasn't even any boats out front on the Sandy Hook to Sea Bright beat. I parked below the entrance to The Hook and held court with two regulars I've seen over the years. "I could happen at any minute". There was some bunker out a ways but nothing was on them. It was an hour of watching and waiting I'd never get back. 

     By 8 o'clock my feelings of hope to skunk was starting to build. Leif was out in Deal giving it a shot and we talked by phone as I sat in my truck. He had some bunker out a bit and there was no action there for the few guys that were out. As I sat there I took a look at Facebook to see if those early morning posts were telling the story of any early bites down south. Not that I was going, I just wanted to see if I made the wrong north vs south choice. They had them, but I'm not sure if they were even fly rod fish.  

     As I scrolled through as my "Friends" posts were sprinkled in between the annoying feeds and ads. One popped up from Eric Kerber's "On a Mission Fishing". It was a solid morning from them close to the beach and I couldn't help but notice the background. I swear I wasn't looking for it, 

but that church, the red one, jumped out at me. I was only a short drive away, and was heading south and home anyway, so I made my way there. When I pulled up to one of those dead end streets I was met by a guy who said, "They have fish", pointing to some guys on the beach. Not wanting to chase other guys I drove a bit south and walked in. 

     There were a few boats in close and guys on the groin tips casting 1/4 mile out. It wasn't blitz fishing but it was the best sign of life I had seen with bass, probably three of them, running through the peanut bunker pods that were off the beach. It was a beautiful day to just be out there but it was frustrating as well. If you don't have the bait in front of you then you don't have the bass. It's that simple during the fall. You can forget about fishing the structure, well there isn't much of that these days, well actually, the beaches look good following the recent blows, and the tides and moons. It's bass on bait, that's pretty much it. 

     I just settled in and walked the beach and made casts knowing they could push in "...at any minute", or not. As I made my way up on the rocks I said to myself, and something I've put into writing many times, "Just because you hear the studs doesn't mean you won't slip". And on the next step I did. I caught that stick of butter laying on top of a relatively flat rock and went down hard. First it was on my right knee, then my stripping basket, which nearly displaced my diaphragm, and then face down into between the rocks. My 9 ft 10 wt Helios D was bent along my face and I was stuck. Kind of like a turtle on it's back. You know when you get old and you fall you just wait to realize what you injured as you lay there, that's how I felt. But I was good, a little throbbing in the knee, thank God for the knee pads in the Orvis PRO waders, and a little tweak in the back, but good. 

     I told Leif where I was and he came up for a visit. He caught the below pic of me as I gingerly made my way off the rocks. I calculated each step like it was my last and at one point my mind said step but my foot wouldn't budge. What a goofball. Getting old sucks.

    Leif and I talked for a bit as we walked out. The day was done. What started out beautiful with a nice west wind went to shit with a building SW wind. I told him I was going to head south down to the Shark River Inlet before making the right turn and hitting 195. 

     I stopped in Bradley Beach and got geared up and walked in. There were some birds, and bunker, in and around the groin tips. The boats were heading south and in as the wind started to pick up. I was joined on the groin by another angler who had fished the morning there without a tap. All of a sudden we started to see the bunker pods split and move when the sun poked through and lit up the flat. I say flat, but really all it was was all the sand that pulled off the beach during the recent storms. There's a window now, balancing between water and no water in the places between each groin. 

     We had two pods in front of us, small ones, one that was making its way to the beach and the other peeling off into the deeper water. The one got nervous looking and that's when, at least visually, the best part of the day happened. The one pod split into two, and there were bass on them, one heading to the beach the other out aways. 

     We were trying to calculate which way they were pushing them. Would they hit the beach? Or would they push them up into the pocket on the north side where we were standing? My fellow angler threw a Spook at them as I took a couple of steps towards the beach end of the groin. But after a few steps, and 1-2 minutes, it was all over. They were gone. She split after that while I stayed about a half and hour watching and waiting. I called it a day and was home just before noon. 

      I'm glad I forced myself to go even though I chose the wrong turn off 195 in the early morning. The winds are going to crank from the SW, S, and then NW for the next few days. 

     Surely one of them will shit up the water along the beach creating that off-color line which keeps the bait and bass out of casting range, for fly rodders for sure. After this, and this Beaver Moon, the tides go low at first and last light, and then a short time after it's Thanksgiving week, which is always a hot time along the Jersey Shore. 

    I'm thinking I got 3-4 trips in me before wrapping it up for the year. And it's been a good year so far. 

11.04.24 Get out and vote!

     It's an important day here in New Jersey as voters are set to cast their votes for New Jersey's next Governor. I hope you don't treat the gubernatorial election like you do with public comments to the ASMFC for striped bass. While your public comments may haven't done anything to steer the management boards vote, pulling the lever for one of the two above candidates surely will matter. 

     Your choices are Republican Jack Ciattarelli and Democrat Mikie Sherrill. You'll also be voting for the Lieutenant Governor spots on the under ticket James Gannon and Dale Caldwell respectfully. And depending on what county you reside in there's county, schools, and fire commissioners questions on the ballot as well. I dislike politics, and politicians, well at least what things have turned into. Years ago you voted for your guy or girl, and then supported the winner, albeit reluctantly at times. 

     Not these days. Not in the take my ball and go home spoiled children we have become. My favorite was my old neighbor's bumper sticker he proudly displayed when we lived in Red Bank. "Not My President" it read. Really? If you are a citizen of the United States then the person who holds the top spot IS your President. That's for Bush, Obama, Biden, or Trump. While I didn't vote for all of the above, I supported them and hoped God guided them in doing the best for the USA. At least respect the office. That's what we used to say in the fire department, respect the rank, if not the guy or girl. 

     The vitriol in today's politics, and just about everything, turns off many voters. And that distain for the process leads people to take a ho-hum approach to voting. That leaves many with a, "He f'in won?!, gut punch as the results roll in. That is followed up by pouty and disparaging comments made to the winner, even though no vote was cast by the person themselves. 

     New Jersey has historically been a blue (Democrat) state. As far as Presidential elections the Garden State voters haven't voted red since the 1980's. New Jersey's democratic voters are fortified by the many urban area's which generally vote democratic. Most of those larger cities are led my Democratic Mayors and leaders. Race and sex also play a big part in the elections as well. Blacks and Hispanic's tend to lean liberal, along with women, and Whites and males lean towards the conservative side. That's not steadfast, it's just historically how's things have gone. 

     It's funny to look at at how New Jerseyans have voted since 1993. In the late 1990's it was Republican Christie Todd- Whitman, then a field of field of red players in DiFransisco, Farmer, and Bennet, McGreevey and Codey, before Codey took the reigns before passing the baton to Jon Corzine through 2010, then Chris Christie for 8 years, and then Phil Murphy for the last eight. Basically it's a two and done and then switch to the other side. 

     So we'll see what happens today at the polls. Will New Jersey flip, as it has done, from a "blue state" to a "red state"? And what will that all really mean. Is anything going to really change? It doesn't matter what side of the aisle you are on we can probably agree on a few things. The cost of living in New Jersey, especially for seniors, is dam near unaffordable. Young adults can't get going, on their own, and get their own trains out of the station. The big pushes now are these new "Town Centers", or jazzed up apartment complexes where they charge $3,000 a month for rent. That'll get you a parking spot, a 20 x 30 pool, a small workout room, 

and a community center. But they'll never be able to save to get out of the rental market. Couple that with a car payment, or even just train and or bus tickets, and a dinner out or just Door Dash a couple times a week and they're done. 

     The traffic in the Garden State, it doesn't matter where you live or at what season you're driving in, it's nuts. We're overdeveloped and living on top of each other. Take Red Bank where I used to live. Forget it. Along the Jersey Shore, even mid-week outside of the summer tourist season, bumper to bumper. All of those people not only cause vehicular traffic but traffic with long waits at the necessities, like healthcare, food stores, DMV, and even for emergency services like police, fire, and EMS. 

     And then the costs of just about everything. That's not a Jersey thing but across the country. Blame the supply chain, blame the tariffs, blame the way consumers shop, it's just a fortune for everything these days. Two going to a diner for breakfast for dinner, easy $50, gas $3 a gallon, which is still a lot, the tolls, like $15.35 during the day with EZ-Pass, plus the Turnpike tolls, electric and oil, forget it, hundreds per month, and then the fun stuff, like cable, internet, 

and phones. Still have your 30 year-old on your plan, "Because it's cheaper", what would your grandparents say, want to switch to Roku, like we did, well you'll have to spend $100 a month for You Tube TV to see anything current or a sports game. We've been binge watching Law & Order from the 80's and 90's as we refuse to pay "cable" prices again. I haven't been able to watch an NFL game from start to finish in over a year. Well Amazon Prime's Thursday Night Football I can watch, but I can never stay awake that late. 

     And then you have to look at the big picture stuff. How your vote could affect things like national security, immigration, government spending, social security, and human rights. I'm not up on all of those things but they are important and I can't bitch about the state of things if I don't do my civil duty and vote. 

     So I hope you go. I hope your guy or girl wins. And remember we're all in this together. At the end of the day we have to co-exist and look out for each other. We've become too polarized in everything these days and the misery and the attitudes we encounter everyday in public, at work, and even during things fun like fishing and events is nauseating. All you have to do is, or not, just follow your social media feeds to see how we're not acting like adults, good New Jerseyeans, and good Americans. 

So go vote, or shut up.