06.17.26 Day 5 - This post's all about me...

     We thought this would be the day. Everything was going to line up between the weather, the bait, the fish, and our skills, and we would be on them good and bring a bunch to hand. In the morning while I worked on the final exam the two boys hit OB again where we found good bait the day before. Before they got back I was already on my way back to the flats. I had my feet in the water and on the sand by 10 AM. 

     It was the end of the incoming New Moon tide so there was plenty of water in the tub. The sun was out but so was the wind which wasn't bad, but it made your eyes hurt as you searched for shadows and signs of marauding bass. Quickly I had seen nine fish, and had three refusals on Flatwing's "Fighting Crab", a crab that landed him the pool winner for the trip last year. But this year they seem to want smaller crab flies, so I made the switch and went on the hunt. 

     Of course I had the ladder in tow and I can't reiterate how a must have that is for me. When you're sight fishing on grade, like not from an elevated beach or you don't have a white bottom, the cone of visibility that increases with the added height is invaluable. It no doubt doubles or triples the amount of fish I see. And the more fish you see, the more shots you get.

     I had some skiffs with sight fishing anglers for company but they worked the channels. The Two Joe's joined me about an hour or so into the day. With each hour the numbers of fish seen increased. And it's funny how those numbers add up. You see three in short order, then it jumps to a dozen, then it slows, then you're at twenty, and in the end yesterday my eyes saw thirty three bass, and I probably made casts to twenty of them. Follows and refusals were in effect, and I just love the frustration that sight fishing brings.

     The three of us looked like those mating horseshoe crabs that frustrate the hell out of you when you're trying to sight fish. There were definitely more in Menemsha Pond but we all fell for, and made casts to, the pairs traversing the bottom. If you tracked the steps of the three of us we criss-crossed each other and set up in spots where the sun was working with us. The shimmer on the surface made things difficult, but manageable. At one point we were kind of working in the same area, the two guys on one edge of a flat, with me kind of inside them. As I walked I saw a nice fish moving from right to left and at a perfect angle. I made a nice leading cast, two strips, and I was tight. 

     Now of course everything we me has a story. So I'm in and having my fun with the initial run of the fish and that's when I noticed a huge wind knot in my fly line. It was go back and forth, through the guides, and onto the reel, and then back out, as I fought the fish. Well on one point when it made a run the knot caught the tip section and it was over. There went the tip section, anchored my the wind knot, heading down the line, and for the water. 

     So I had a fish on and had to either hand reel the fish in or get the tip section back on. I thought for sure I was going to lose it, and I didn't want to, why? Because I wanted a nice picture of me and it was one time where one of my buds was nearby. So I played it gingerly.

     The fish had inhaled the crab fly and it easily popped out of the roof of it's mouth. It was an ocean fish who came in on the tide to sniff around for a snack. And while low water is best to see them I think on the incoming tides, when the water floods, is when the fish move in and up and start snooping around. 

     You know I do this blog and I've taken a million photos to accompany the story for the day. There's some places that I can't post images about, otherwise the risk of the spot burn would increase, and other times I can't get a picture of myself with a fish, especially if I'm out in the water. So when I get that chance, like when a friend is near, I'll take it all day. It's not the fish that I need the picture of, it's me and one day having the opportunity to look back and remember how much I love striped bass, sight fishing, and Martha's Vineyard. 

     And the question you may have is, why would you sight fish without a hat on? Well, that brings us to the hat I've been wearing this week. I've gotten some heat over it so I removed it for the quick photo session. The other evening Joe took a picture of me just to show me how 

ridiculous I look. But, I have to say, that hat covers my rear neck fat, the tops of my ears, and even the acts like horse blinders that protect my cheeks from the sun. So I may look like a goof, but I'm better off for it, until someone snaps a picture of me. 

     We couldn't figure out if I looked more like The Flying Nun, for you tots that was a TV show from the late 1960's and early 1970'S, which starred Sally Fields. Or maybe look more like the

cartoon character Rocky from the early mid-century carton Rocky and Bullwinkle. Rocky, above, was a flying squirrel, and my hat kinda looks like I could take off in flight at any time. But we all know I don't photograph well, in fact I hate to see pictures of myself all double-chinned up with sagging jowels and a receding hairline, coupled with a dirty shirt that's past it's fishing life, glasses all wrapped around my sling pack, and a profile where I could double as Alfred Hitchcock. You know him, "Good evening...." But hey, Theresa loves me.

     And as of late the wind seemed to die with the tide but not yesterday. As the water receded the winds picked up, easily to 20 NW which just sucked. I ran out front and saw a few boats on Middle Ground and they must have been getting tossed around pretty good out there. 

     So for a day when I thought everything would have lined up for the three of us God was especially good to me. Yes, it was only one but it was a fine fish that I caught just how I love to catch them. The other boys saw fish, had a few shots, and put the time in between morning and mid-day sessions. But to just illustrate how things are, three guys fishing for four days, four fish in total. Flatwing is determined to shake off the skunk and he just might do that as I write this blog at 345 AM.

     Last night as we ate kinda heathy. I was hankering for a salad so I ran down to Stop & Shop and picked up what I needed and it went along with some calzones that Custom picked up in New Hampshire. It was then they talked about their next fishing plan. "We're getting up and outta here at 145 AM to go and fish the inlet at Menemsha". These boys are fishy, let me tell you. But back to the picture above, you know what I see outside of the zero nutritional value iceberg lettuce covered in blue cheese and bacon, the plastic pill boxes. That shows you you're traveling with old guys. Each of us have one and say everyday, "I've gotta take my pills". 

     So right on point the boys woke me up at 145 AM and asked me to move my truck so they could get out. I hope they hit it good out there. I hope it's bass in the dark on the incoming and then bones, or Atlantic bonito, at first light. If they score tonight then they'll be tucked in for a long days nap when they get back. If not, they'll sleep for a bit and then get back out there somewhere like two buds on a mission. These two are buds, and they're fishy, and they like to catch fish.

06.16.26 Day 4- That's one handsome dude...

 

     Some guys just have it like that. Custom Joe is one of them. He just photograph's really well when it comes to fishing. While most of us have tons of fish and fish holding photos of ourselves most of them just fall short in one way or another. In pictures with Custom you can see that his smile and happiness is not staged, it's genuine. Over the last few years we've worked on his finger placement and fish holding techniques and he takes the cues well, and the quality of the pictures has improved. When I see his face I can only go back 50 years ago to a cute little kid over his Grandmother's house for the Sunday family meal of meatballs, pasta, and sauce. And as each family member that enters the house they grab his cheek and give it a squeeze, and say, "Joey my boy, you're just so handsome". 

     So on the other side are guys like me, who don't photograph well and have no history of getting my cheeks squeezed. That's me above taking the morning to write the students final exam for next week. I started around 5 am and worked as the boys got ready and went out fishing. I have to get this done and this morning will do more of the same. But as morning wore on I got the itch to fish somewhere, anywhere.

      With our rental in Vineyard Haven making the run Up-Island to Menemsha is more of a journey then a quick outing. So I decided to stay local and hit Tashmoo. It's literally less than 10 minutes away. I arrived around 1130 and found conditions pretty good. Dropping tide, bright sandy bottoms, high sun with sporadic cloud cover, and a wind that was there, but settled down with the dropping tide. 

     There was another guy on foot and two in skiffs patrolling around looking for fish. I set up the ladder at a point where the sand meets the darker vegetation covered bottom. I wasn't up in the air but for a minute before I saw my fish fish coming towards me going from left to right. I made a cast leading him that got no notice and then just as he disappeared in the darkness I saw him follow my crab fly out. I stripped, I twitched, and then paused it before he refused it and moved on. 

     Over the next two hours I planted the ladder down in several spots and walked across the flats. It was a good day, saw nine fish, had five that showed interest, with three solid refusals. I had a crab fly on, obviously not the right one, and wonder if a baitfish pattern would have got it done. I didn't see any bait, that's why I went with a crab fly. 

     If you know then you know. Each year various state's publish their own, "Most Dangerous Roads". Massauchetts should include that small section of a dirt road leading to Lake Tashmoo as one of them. If you take it slow, or fast, it really doesn't matter, in the end you're going to get jostled around. 

     When you look at from the driver's perspective it doesn't look all that bad, but be warned. At some point your head is going to hit the roof which could displace your cervical spine or whip you from side to side only to have your head hit the side window exposing you to the chance of suffering from a subdural hematoma. And since it's one lane there's always someone coming from the opposite direction. 

     The three of us were running on the same cylinder. Rest in the mid-afternoon before hitting it before the sun went down. In the morning while I worked and then hit Tashmoo the boys were out in OB where we would return to later in the day. Custom caught the fish up top and Flatwing broke off a good fish while I worked. 

     We found a parking spot by the stairs near Inkwell Beach in OB. Inkwell, or Town Beach, has a long and strong history dating back to the Nineteenth Century as it is a well known and travel destination for black, or African American, travelers. While the names, like Chicken Bone Beach in Atlantic City, may have had derogatory undertones during their initial labeling, these locations have become annual destinations that have been passed down by families for decades. 

     We had to navigate just enough of a small crowd of late beachgoers to find some water that hadn't been splashed through throughout the day. We made out way down towards the Oak Bluff's ferry terminal and I chose to poke around through the pilings looking for patrolling bass while the boys made their way out onto a sand bar.

     I saw a ton of bait circle-eighting around the wood and could feel the warmth from the eyes that were trained down on me as people waited for the next ferry. Two came when I was there, one was from the  Steamship Authority and the other a passenger only Seastreak ferry. 

     I did this for a bit making a handful of casts before moving out to check on the guys. Flatwing had a solid follow without a commitment and Custom just did his thing, cast after cast after cast. He tells me he can't do what I do, stand and wait, and needs to be in motion while fishing. You can't catch fish when your fly is dangling in the fingers in your non-dominant hand, that's why he catches more fish.

     So I moved down to Town Beach and saw the "jetty", as they call it, leading out from the beach entrance. When I got to it I could see it was kelp covered from beach end to the tip, which can only mean one thing...slippery. But groin tips are just so fishy. So I started out. 

     I fished both sides around the tip and the pole without a tap. I did see bait, in fact OB had the most consistent bait we had seen, a mix of sand eels and, I don't know what they are, but I'll say minnows. Luckily I made it up and back without taking a spill. Not only is the kelp slippery, but the stands are like hair covering the rocks so it's hard to see the gaps in between the, One wrong step and it could be a easy ankle, foot, or leg fracture. 

Like we've said there just doesn't seem to be a lot of fish around. Before calling it quits we stood there and came up with a plan. Grab a slice at Giordano's before heading 

up to Menemsha. The slice hit the spot and if I were doing a Dave Portnoy, "One Bite Everyone Knows the Rules", pizza review I'd give it a 7.6. No flop, not running or greasy, with a nice 

crisp and crunch as you made your way around to the crust. The $4.75 a plain slice, I guess that's just welcome to Martha's Vineyard, but for me, a tad much, but Custom treated anyway.

     While we had high expectations about Menemsha there was some things we forgot to factor in. Tide rushing in on New Moon, NW wind from 15-20, and tons of people on hand for the sunset. There was some people out fishing, from fly rodders on the rocks and docks, to kids 

tossing live bait, to a line up of spin guys down by the boulder field. There were some birds working and word has it there's bonito around in the early morning. With two hours left in the flood tide the harbor was chock full of water, and construction equipment as well. You can see the water up above the boards with plenty more to have came in.

     In the end we decided to not stay and headed back to Senge. But before we left Flatwing made me pose for an awkward picture at the Swordfish Harpooner Sculpture. You wouldn't see Custom posing for pictures like this, maybe I should do the same. Horrible.

     Today it'll be more of the same, work for me in the morning and then a quick run over to the local waters. The boys are hitting State Beach at first light before working a plan we talked about last night but I can't remember all the details. We'll have good sun, but some wind around as well. It seems it will die with the dropping New Moon tide so that should be good for me up on the ladder. 

     My prediction today is we will all have the opportunity to have a picture taken with a fish in hand. Today may even be a numbers day, like more then one each. But success for me isn't hooking, fighting and landing them, but just finding them and seeing if they are interested, or not, in what I'm throwing. I still believe this trip could be a big fish trip, so we'll see about that.

     We have some socializing to do while we're here and tomorrow night we'll be hitting Abe's "The Shed" up in Aquinnah for a gathering of like-minded fly fishermen. Then on Friday at Kismet Outfitter's the Two Joe's will do a head to head fly tying tie off before we head for home Saturday morning. There's still days of fishing to be had with a mix of sun, rain, and clouds. It's all real good, I'm just happy to be up here. And thanks to my wife who's holding down the fort, and tackling all the house selling and buying stuff that's going on everyday. Thanks bud. 

06.15.26 Day 3 - "Hello ladder my old friend..."

(Sung to Simon & Garfunkel's The Sounds of Silence) "Hello ladder my old friend, I've come to fish you with again". So, today I pretty much went against all the advice and things I said I wouldn't do. It was Flatwing's first full day on the island and of course he wanted to get going. We discussed several options based on some local intel and things Custom and I have seen since we got here. 

     After some I'm-ready-for-the-Lowcountry-grits, which my wife makes better, it was off to the races. In yesterday's post I said I wasn't going to Red Beach and wasn't going to try and sight fish until real late in the dropping tide. Well, I think I was perched on that ladder at first light just as the tide was still filling in.

     Custom had his specials of the day picked out and they were on the menu and ready to be eaten. The problem we’re having is there doesn't seem to be a lot, like hardly any, bait around. A cloud of sand eels here and there and some small baitfish hugging the usual sod bank or traveling back and forth with the tides. Basically the only things that are moving are the horseshoe crabs. 

     We're about 22 minutes from Look Street in VH to the Aquinnah side of Menemsha Pond. In the early morning and without traffic, and without those super annoying bicyclists, it's a nice ride. Remember I said I was going to wait until later in the tide, like 130 PM, well the above pic was snapped at 612 AM, so much for that.

     I started out putting the knee pads back into my everyday-water-logged-waders. I'm wet in both feet and my underwear is moist so the leak must be somewhere in my groin area. These are my favorite waders yet and Orvis have stopped making them. They better be good on the repairs because I will sending them back, in fact I may call them today. I have some other things to talk about as far as repairs, you'll know about that soon enough. And in other Orvis news, Orvis has stopped making their indestructible stripping basket. 

     If you go on their website and type in "stripping basket" the above is what you get. I don't want ECO-friendly when it comes to a stripping basket. I want one that is hard, durable, can be drilled through, and lasts forever. Bad move Orvis, on top of bad moves. 

     The reason I needed those knee pads is because when I stand on the ladder my knees rest on the top rung. After a day without them, because they were drenched, I had red marks on my shins from rubbing on the waders and aluminum. 

     If you know then you know and what you would know is there was a lot of water in the pond when this picture was taken at 8 o'clock. The wind was a tad stronger than we thought coming from the dreaded SW which created enough of an annoying shimmer on the water. But even so if you kept to the sides you could see a passing bass, if there were any. 

     And as far as fly selection there's mixed feelings on that. Go big, like a size 1/0 or go home, or throw size 6 crabs and baitfish flies? Yesterday my Flexo Crab wasn't any bigger than a quarter so I opted for a Brad Buzzi albie fly. It didn't matter in the end I never made a cast with it. On the first drop I saw a trio of fish that came from right to left off in the distance. 

     I was perched pretty high up on the ladder and close to the boys. At one point I could feel the stressed aluminum start to twist below me, I was going over again. But this time I somehow rode it down like I was on a surfboard and was able to stay bone dry. "Are you alright over there Colin?", asked Custom. I answered "Yes", but then said to myself, "Alright this ladder has got to go." 

     I had moved down and pretty far out on the flat thinking I'd just wait them out if my ADHD would allow. That lasted 10 minutes. So I put all my gear on the ladder and went it search

for the original Vineyard ladder. One that I knew was stronger. So I walked over the dunes and through the heavily tick infested brush on the hunt. And then that's where, "Hello ladder my old friend....", popped up in my head. Needless to say I'm been humming it for about 18 hours now. 

     She was sitting right where I left her a year ago. What that tells me is no fly anglers chose that stretch of dune to use as a toilet, only to be pleasantly surprised when they found a ladder to use while there. She was rusted tight, kind of like the tin man in the Wizard of Oz, and I could have used a little oil on her joints but I finally got her to open her legs. That came out kind of creepy. 

     I swam her back out to the ladder I brought this year and was surprised how tall that one is. That just solidifies my belief that there aren't all that many fish up here this year. Being that high above the water should really help me pick out the fish, and in three days I've seen just 43 fish. 43 in fish with about 20 hours on the water, so 2 fish per hour. 

     So I swapped out the ladders and returned this years to where last years stood. It was getting near low tide so I shouldn't have needed the extra height. When I got up on the ladder I noticed it was lower, which reduced the amount of water I could see through, and it was much more stable. Like I could look side to side without throwing off the center of balance and tossing me into the drink.

     At 1043 AM I took the above pic of two guys who had just blind casted consistently for three hours without a tap. They were done and I followed them out. I wasn't sure if this was a food break or done done with this place for the day. It becomes a risk vs gain type of thing. Like should I stay or should I go? 

     I tried to stay optimistic and offer up a good prediction. "The wind has been dying with the dropping tide and the sun is high and bright?" The they said low tide was over two hours away I kinda thought to myself I was done as well. In the end they split and I stayed. 

     And what did I do with my time? I took the most glorious nap in the back of the Suburban. I haven't had a truck with a cargo area in a long time and this thing is great when you need some shut-eye or are too cheap to get a room. The SW wind just caught the tail end of the truck so it was nice and cool and all in the shade. 

     I woke up before the alarm that I had set went off. I had slept for about 90 minutes which was great. I was ready to go and find them and at least annoy them. I checked the wind app before I went out for round two....

11 knots is 12.7 mph, not too bad, zero would be better but I'll take it. It looked like it would be low water, high sun, some wind, which is not too bad, if there's fish around.

      The trouble with the low water, and wind at 11 knots, with some gusts here and there, is it creates whitecaps across the flat. That creates shadows that creep along the sand below. Throw that in with 100 mating horseshoe crabs and let's just say it's not as fun as it should be, but hey, that's fishing. 

     At one point I was moving from spot to spot with the ladder dragging behind when I saw two nice fish within range. I dropped the ladder, got off a good cast, but they just swam off. I made a longer "going away" cast but I had lost sight of them. After just about two hours I was done. Total fish for the day was 8 fish seen, no real shots, and only about five casts with any hope. 

     Back at the parking lot I met a guy who came over and said he fishes the pond every morning by kayak. He confirmed what we had found, let's just say no bait, not much for fish, and less than perfect conditions. We talked for a bit before we said our good byes. As I pulled away he flailed his arms and stopped me and said, "Do you have your fly rod?", adding, "I know that sound when it slides down a truck". 

     So I got out and found my new Orvis D 9 ft 10 wt laying there. It looked perfect and I thanked him and put it in the Rodmount rod holder in the back of the Suburban. As I drove past Lobsterville I noticed my 

rod tip was missing so I went back to find it. 

     A quick search revealed it wasn't on the ground but dangling in the middle of the rod....yep, I had ran it over. So that and the waders will be going back to Orvis. And oh yeah, I didn't tell you about my new Orvis D 9 ft 12 wt.. While trying to twist off the sections one of those flimsy line guides twisted out, so that'll be a nice package heading back to Vermont. Luckily I have a spare Orvis H2 9 ft 10wt with me to use. I should have brought my stocking foot waders as a back-up, and I would have if they weren't packed away for South Carolina already. 

     I stopped by Abe's on the way home as the Two Joe's were visiting Kismet Outfitters. When they got back we came up with a plan, some nappy naps now, then dinner, then off to fishing. 

     Well we accomplished two of the three, as in the naps and the meal. When it came to fishing Down-Island in the evening we realized it was all dead low, the wind had picked up, and really, I just think we were a little deflated from another disappointing day at Menemsha Pond. We just hung out for hours which in the end was enjoyable and time well spent. But going forward we need to think like a fish and come up with a plan. They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, it seems to just keep going back to Menemsha Pond might just be insane. 

     And while we chowing down on sausage and peppers sandwiches Abe was Up-Island digging into Theresa's meatballs that she slaved over for the trip. Even with the batch I lost on the way up here we still have a bunch in the freezer for some night later this week.