So today was the first time I almost came to blows with a guy on the beach. No doubt a local Prozac Pro-Staffer and poacher, who keeps illegal fish and sells them. It was a scene. I had a vision in my
nearly disassociated brain of crushing his skull with my heavy DSLR camera. I kept thinking of the scene in the movie Braveheart where William Wallace crushes the soldiers skull with a block of wood attached to a handle. More on that later.
So this may a bit long but for me it's worth telling the story if it were to be my last outing of the year. Yeah, I know about the whole Quit thing. But I was off today and it has been good up and down the Jersey Shore so why not. I heard yesterday was lights out and stupid fishing just about everywhere, if you were at the right place at the right time. Now I run pretty much solo with hardly any phone numbers in my Contacts so I'd have to find my own fish if I wanted to catch. There's no spot burning here this time of year so I'll tell my story.
I didn't want to see any trucks on the beach. Didn't want to witness muggings or any bad behavior. That's funny, and more on that later. So I started before 8 o'clock in Bayhead. I didn't think Monmouth
County would be good and I didn't want to do the Route 37 Seaside thing so this was a good starting point. I got dressed and made my way over the dune and was happy to see the birds up and at um. There weren't many guys out so I walked and walked but stopped short of going all the way to the inlet, where a bunch of the birds were working near the beach. Hey, it's been that good, why chase birds?
I fished for about an hour and saw one fish caught on my way out. It really never materialized while I was there, it may have went off at some point, but not for me. It's funny when you talk to guys who tell you "Bay Head went off this morning", but wait, I was there? So you never know what happened an hour before you get there or an hour after.
I wasn't going deep south and I knew the next town south wouldn't have trucks on the beach so why not hit Mantoloking. I was lucky to find a parking spot and I saw a guy who I met one of the last times I was on IBSP. "Bro are you just getting here?", is not a line you want to hear. Yes, it went off, from 6-8, tons of bait, big and small, and tons of bass, big and small as well.
When I walked down I could see what could be described as a crime scene. Bait all over the beach where the tide line ran up the scarp. Little bunker, mid sized bunker, and huge bunker as well.
There were birds off aways kind of to my north and I wasn't chasing nor getting all up in a crowd so I stayed put. Guys made there way into the fray and I'm not sure if fish came in under the birds.
I picked my spot and blind casted, something I hate to do when I'm into a birds, bait, and bass mode. Not just blitzes, but signs of life in front of me. I always know there are stragglers but I just can't. Me and another older guy spend some time talking about yesterday on this beach. "I stopped counting at 25". "You would have done great". "I'm still tired". Game, set, match. While he made some last casts the
birds started up with purpose and I questioned wanting to leave. But I wasn't going to sit and wait for a spinner fall hatch that may or may not come. As I walked out I found one of the 9-percenters rolling
around in the wash. I'm starting to believe that as recreational anglers we do kill 9% of the fish that we catch and release. These days I'm seeing more bass bones rather than the eyeless carcasses of >31" fish.
I wasn't going south, although I thought about hitting Brad's house in Normandy for a peak, but that would have sucked me in. I didn't want to go home from Seaside so I thought why not check north of the Manasquan Inlet. I hit Sea Girt, then looked as I drove through Spring Lake, and into Belmar. Belmar was the scene of a hot bite last night and at one popular avenue about 20 guys were standing near a groin that had some birds out front along with a boat or two. 2 guys fishing, 18 watching. Later.
So I hit Bradley Beach. It was getting close to dead low, about two hours left on the ebb. It was me and an older guy in his Rockport's just waiting for something to start up. "You should have been here yesterday afternoon". "I lost count". Okay...... But then the birds who were sitting on the water took
flight and there were bass underneath them. Holy Jesus, this is going to happen and I found my own fish. I made my way out onto the second story high groin and waited with great anticipation. It
was a high perch but still plenty of access to get down and release the fish that I was going to catch. It was a little sketchy on that last far and high rock especially when that wind kicked in out of the SW.
It wouldn't be a problem to fish from there, just don't fall. That would be ugly and a scene. I had left the other guy on the beach as his footwear wasn't made for the rocks or the water. As the birds got closer I was psyched, and just like that it died, but not before my new friend got one a bottle plug. He had
casted out to nearly the distance I was fom the beach. It was just that quick. And it was over. Soon the birds returned hovering farther off the beach. I wondered if that wind going SW pulled the bait and bass off and it be just like a today, and not a yesterday.
It was about 3 o'clock and my long afternoon plan was to hit the Dixie Lee bakery in Keansburg. I would just drive and stop at some spots and get there before they closed. My first stop was Deal and I found a huddle of guys, and a lady, fishing in the remaining water around one of the outflow pipes. There were peanuts trapped by the tide and wind and there were small bass on them. I inched my way
closer and made some casts before questioning the meaning of my life, "Do I need to sneak in there to catch some 24" bass?", really? So I moved on but not before breaking out the camera and snapping a
few pics of the bait being harassed. I had the partial view more north of birds in the distance so I jumped on the groin to take a look. Well, I found the birds, and the guys who stayed put in Monmouth County today. Hours of good fishing as the bass were mauling peanut bunker, like real good. I wasn't
going to walk up there into the fray and I didn't want to be a fringe fisherman hoping to get some table scraps. The fish have been eating for days and already had a big lunch so with that I took the walk back
to my truck Phillips Ave. I contemplated taking my stuff off for a comfortable ride north but I thought let me just check the next three towns before hitting Route 36. As I drove I called Leif who was stuck at work. I told him about my morning and he shared his son's outing this morning down in Seaside, a fish there and then nothing for the effort after a long walk from A 23 to the north jetty.
And here's where it gets good. So I was pulled over as I was talking I see a few birds over the wash. There's a few guys fishing off to my right but it's like a nothing, just some guys fishing. There were a lot of birds off a bit so I thought maybe something would happen. I told Leif I would fill him in as it was getting close to his quitting time at work.
(Taken later than when it went down)
I make my way to the north side of the large outflow pipe that splits the Long Branch beach. To my surprise I looked down and saw a large bass laying all breaded up in the sand. I was alone. I walked over and placed my rod down next to it to check it against the tape marker on my my rod, it was about 32-33" by my eye. I could see a guys head on the other side of the pipe and yelled, "Yo, is this your fish?". He answered, "No". This is not a case of someone trying to be a tree hugger, bass rescuer, or striped bass size police. It's a fish laying on the beach with no one around. So I reached down and picked it up and made my way into the lower water. Once I got the breading off it started to get its mojo back. I was happy to be saving this striped bass from the death by asphyxiation or getting his eyeballs eaten out by the birds. And I was happier when it "swam away strong". Job well done, or so I thought.
Just then things started to go off. I stripped out some line and readied my cast. Then I heard, from a guy standing on top of the pipe, "Where's my fish?". "What the fuck, who touches another guys fish?". "What?". I yelled back. And then things went sideways. He comes down all fired up. "I waited all day for that fish". "Do you know how much you just cost me?". "Who touches another guys fish?" "You might as well go home". "You're not fishing here". I went on to tell him "Yeah, I released that fish". And for some reason I engaged him and explained it was an over-sized fish, no one was around, and I had asked the closest guy if it was his. So yes, "I threw your F'in fish back". And I walked away and down the 50 feet to where things were going good. At the styart of it all I was more interested in taking pictures than catching some fish. My only wish was that there was better lighting to capture it all.
So after a bunch of pictures it was now time to get into them. There were some nice fish in there. But here comes my buddy, still fired up. He walked in the water in front of me and that continued all the way down to Pier Village, which is blocks away. My blood started to boil. I still had my camera in my hand and that's when my vision started to blur and the thought of swinging it to meet his skull ran through my mind. He was a mess. A saltwater starter kit for a rod and an assortment of Rattle Traps and Ava's was what he brought to this party. At one point he went away and when I made a cast here came the Rattle Trap right in front of me. "You might as well leave", he said. Do I call 9-11 or take that swing? I went on to make more pictures. I am disappointed in myself as a story teller that I didn't take a picture of him in front of me, like I needed it to complete this story. Maybe I thought the picture would be of him laying in the sand gasping for air. I could see other guys kinda following and keeping an eye out as this debacle continued. And with that he made a cast and hooked up. What he did was cast a mile and foul hook a bigger fish, which he eventually broke off and had to retreat back to his buds and his bag for another lure. It was all over.
The bass were in the wash as the tide flipped to the incoming. The bass were on fire and it was perfect fly rod fishing. While I may have missed some good fishing dealing with my chromosomed challenged friend, I took that time to keep my finger on the trigger and capture the moments.
The sun was setting and the wind, which felt like it was coming more SSW, then SW, was kicking up a bit making casts a little difficult, but it was manageable, because they didn't have to be very long. I have to say, my blood was still boiling, but I felt better when a guy came over and said, "That guys an asshole. He keeps illegal; fish and sells them", adding, "I should have called on him before".
By then the birds had dissipated a bit and the beach was clear except for a few guys. But then as I made my way back to the pipe, and hoping for another encounter with my friend, I saw the birds going good on the south side of the pipe.
Even with the escaping light the water was clean so they had no problem seeing my fly. On one cast I was doubled up and during the two-fish fight the second one popped off. These fish, probably ranging from say 25" - 35" are jacked the F up. The water is cool, just above 50, they are on the feed, and they are full and feisty, even the smaller schoolies. As I unhooked my last fish there was a guy making his
was north and I asked him to snap a quick pic. Just a beautiful and healthy and for me a perfect sized fly rod fish and the incoming waves made the fight just a little for fun. I left them eating and I'm sure the
bite continued into the dark. Outside of a near homicide I had a great day. Putting in the time, finding, or just running into, my own fish, and bringing a bunch to hand made for a great day off from work. IF, this were to be my last day of 2023 I would be good with that.
