Striped bass fishing. Striped bass fishing looking to Trenton. And striped bass fishing looking out into the Atlantic. Same day. Several hours apart. It was nice to watch the sunrise on the horizon. It was nice to watch and try and gauge what Trenton had burning in the afternoon. I watched as the smoke went from a whisp to dark black. I knew it was something big. What it was was the old Trenton Middle
School located on Martin Luther King Boulevard. Below is a shot from The Trenonian. I knew it was newsworthy when the news copters started to arrive from Philly. So I started out in Deal meeting Leif
around 530. He on one groin me on another. I was using a floating line with a popper and he, well, of course, the Ugly Ass Fly. He connected on a schoolie during his brief stay. I stuck around as the the tide
ebbed and walked the beach trying to find some clean water free of the cabbage. I found the below rock, and if you know, then you know. It was the prized rock to get to when the groin was full, especially for the fly rodder. I fished there but had more grass then anything else. As I made my way back I looked down and
saw a large Mole Crab on the sand. These are prized baits for both fluke and striped bass. When there's nothing going on and they're rooting around a sand flea, or a bunch, will feed the hunger. This one was
pregnant and I always tie a little orange on the underbelly for some contrast. Below I left I hit "Ryan's Rock" and wondered if he'd give me up a fish.....nope. But I got to stand there and play a song that really always makes me think of Ryan, "Blackbird", sung by Paul McCartney. Ryan could play the shit out of that song on his guitar. I've been thinking of him a lot lately. Last week I attended the funeral of Delaware Joe's beloved son, who passed away at age 50. It's never easy burying a child. Just sucks.
On a different set of rocks determined to catch a bass I found a 20 incher willing to play, in-fact begging for me to catch him, as he gave me three shots, but the best I could do was prick him. It seems lately that's my jam, I either turn or a miss a fish, one per outing, fresh or salt water. Same result.
Before the conflagration erupted in Trenton I happened to look down when I entered the water and something caught my eye. It was one of my flies, now slightly off color, that I either dropped or broke off on a fish. It's still fishable and it'll be fun to get one on it if I ever catch a fish again. As I watched
the smoke I turned yet another fish in the bright sun on a low tide. The rivers down to under 10,000 cfs and the temps are running just north of 65 degrees depending on the time of day. It's getting skinny again so we'll see what tide and time of day brings for the next month in the river. Looks like it's time to start making the drive of shame a couple times a week to the salt.