Dispatches about fly fishing and life from the Lowcountry of South Carolina, New Jersey, and beyond
theaverageangler.com 732.261.7291 colin@theaverageangler.com
What to do when a post from someone in your town pops up offering $100 to transfer the contents of two BAGSTERS into an empty dumpster. As I read, knowing I was up against other people seeing it, I yelled out to Theresa, "You want to make a quick $100". "Hell yeah she answered".
Funny enough our employer was located within walking distance from our house. Why we would jump on it? Well, it's a night out, because you know drinks and apps always come out to $60-70 dollars for a couple, a tank of gas which runs about $70, or a bunch of groceries at ShopRite even if you use your discount card. Hell, it could even cover one of the batteries I need to replace in the jet boat.
We crushed the first one in no time but the second...that's where we found the damp drywall. That took some time. As we tossed the stuff I looked down at the lumber. 2x4's and 2x6's that just needed to be cleaned of the nails and there you have it, probably at least $75 there. You see, I've been collecting
wood, recycled wood, for some time, hoping to build a small garage or lean-to something out back. I hope to build a cover for the jet boat because the "perfect fit" boat cover I bought online well is anything but perfect fit.
We left 90 minutes later with five twenties and and a pick up bed loaded with usable lumber. It may not how we thought we would begin a beautiful almost fall morning but, a hundy is a hundy, even if it comes in five twenties. Never too proud to make some cash, neither of us.
Wow! So this morning it was yet another "Memories" that popped up on Facebook. This from today September 9th, 2014. There was so many things going on in my life at that time both personally and professionally. I was starting to find, well rebuild, myself and my cylinders were starting to fire correctly. I had just moved into my own place after spending the bulk of the summer splitting my time living out of my car and a storage unit I had rented on Route 66 in Neptune. It wasn't a good summer. I would crash in my truck and then start my mornings outside of the gate of the storage place waiting for the gate access to let me in. There I would change and gather things I needed for the day. The Red Bank YMCA had become my place to sh%t, shower, and shave. It was what it was.
I kept it all to myself and whatever pride I had left following divorce number two prevented me from asking around for a place to crash. By mid August I found myself in the spare bedroom of my Mom's place. That was great but not for by self-worth and esteem. I had to string days together before moving into the above place, a winter rental I had secured from September 1st to May 28th. It was perfect. Located on Phillips Avenue, just blocks away from my favorite salty beats, and around from one of my favorite hangs at the Bar Room in Deal.
Professionally, if you will, I was motoring ahead and picking up steam. September started off with some play in On The Water magazine where Richie led off an article on beach replenishment where they used several of my photographs. I had talks lined up at some local clubs and at the Orvis store in Manhattan. I has a steady flow of trips under my belt and in the books for the fall run, which back then started in September, not like now where things don't go until later in the fall and early winter.
Personally, I was gaining some momentum also. I felt better about myself because I was dialed in into being a full time guide, splitting my time on the Upper Delaware in the spring and in the salt in Jersey around that. I was an Orvis Endorsed Guide at the time so things were going good. That gave me confidence to do things like spend my down time on "Match.com", even though I failed miserably there. But I found myself during the second week in September on date #2 with a lady up in Newport, RI. No, she wasn't from there, but "go big or go home" was kind of my dating thought process.
And then something magical happened. On the night of the Harvest Moon when the moon was up and the tides were extreme something, well someone, showed up at my door, literally. It was an unexpected visit late in the evening that would change the direction of everything in my life forever. I never responded back to my Match.com date and went all in with, if you could guess, my unexpected, but welcomed guest. It was reconnecting with, you guessed it, Theresa, that changed my life. For the better of course, just in case she's reading this, which she does from time to time.
So how did it change my life? Let's just say within six months I had dusted off my nursing license and scrubs and was back in the game. I had done some soul searching, unfortunately, and realized that I was really in the end, just supporting a habit and lifestyle, and not really making any money, at least not enough to support a wife and a family. A couple thousand here and there from float trips up north or walk and wade or boat trips in the salt only lasted so long. There were enough talks and magazine monies coming in during the non-fishing months to bridge the gap between fishing seasons. So, I put my big boy pants on and went to work. Eventually I would find myself back in school, first for the BSN, and then for my nurse practitioner degree, and then at Villanova for my doctorate, which is still a work in progress, and may never be completed.
And so that picture, on the top, of Charlie, aka Bunky, a friend I met behind the sticks during the guide school I had attended a few before, which brought a flood of these memories out of the depths of
my brain this morning. I remember making that long drive out to Montauk in the wee hours on that fall morning.
It was September 17th 2014. Since I was going "all in" to guiding I had mustered up enough courage and money to make the trek out to "The End", Montauk, Long Island. I figured if I was going to do this I had to do it. My friend at the time, Jason Dapra, was a inspiration and coach, who was more than willing to show me the ropes and get me into the scene out there. I couldn't have done it with out him, even if it did last for just one fall. My nearly two week introduction to the Mecca of fly fishing was scheduled to end with me guiding in the infamous Red Bone Tournament, something that I was extremely nervous about doing, but had to, if I was going to do this.
The Snug Harbor Motel is where I would call home. That would put me on or near the water and near the ramp where I would put in and take out for my two a days while out there. It would also be a stones throw, and a short intoxicated walk, following the best guide hang at West Lake after each day.
There was so much to learn, which I did, and that started off my catching myself from shearing off my fly rod tips under the overhang at the breezeway at the Snug. It almost happened more than once due to the excitement of wanting to meet up with my sports at the ramp and get out on the water.
The plan was to have Bunky as my test rat for a few days before paying customers rolled in. On the first day we had fish as soon as we headed out of the harbor towards the lighthouse. I had studied Montauk and it's famous locations, The Light, Shagwong, Turtle Cove, Browns, Kings, Caswells, and Camp Hero, to name a few. It was all albies all the time. I felt like I was doing it.
And then there was the whole plug incident thing. Boy, what a lesson learned. While Charlie was still out there, and with weather starting to build, each day was spent watching the weather and tides and trying to figure when and where we would fish. At times you would be bare-knuckling it from one side on the way out only to be met with calm seas and fish up on the other. It's two different worlds on either side of the lighthouse.
So on this day we decided to be the first ones out, and we were. There wasn't a boat in site and we were under the lighthouse in sloppy conditions, but the fish were there under the birds. At one point I just kinda felt we were a little low in the water, but I didn't think twice about it, under I opened one of the rear hatches. It was there, to my horror, that I saw salty water sloshing around in the battery compartments. I knew what was going on. We were swamped. I forgot the plug. We were taking on water and sinking. I told Charlie to reel in and hold on. Somehow it started and we gunned it home. At the ramp, and ready to throw up, I watched as at least 1,000 gallons, alright maybe not that much,
drained from the boat or shot out of the bilge pump, like straight out at first, and then a trickle. It was a lesson learned, one that most guides and boat owners do, hopefully before the water hits the batteries and you're calling Sea Tow or, at worst, sounding the alarm for the Coast Guard.
I would eventually settle down before heading out on the water and check at least 10 times that I had the plug in the boat. I was waiting for the next crew to arrive and did some walking and picture taking in and around Montauk.
Montauk was a fishy place. With fish and fishy people. It wasn't the Montauk of years past and not the Montauk of today. The town has changed, the traffic has changed, and the fish have changed, as we have seen New Jersey and the fall migration possible eclipse was rightfully Montauk's honors.
For two days I had Andrew, of Orvis's and my favorite fisherman's wife's fame, and Ian and Phil. They are just fishy dudes and brought a mix of rods, flies and camera equipment out on the boat. It was a great time and since then they have grown both professionally, personally and fishally. Phil will be mentioned again in an upcoming post, Andrew makes it here from time to time, and Ian has moved out to sea tackling pelagics on the fly rod.
2014 was a different time. We didn't have the high-tech phone cameras we have today. I lugged around digital SLR's and Go Pros in Montauk so there are no good hang pictures. But, thanks to Jason, I was in the mix with the best while both on the water and in the bar. These guys, and a lady, were, and some still are, the best of the fly rod guides Montauk has seen. Guys like Jason, Brendan McCarty, Andrew Derr, Jim Levison, Vinnie Catalano, Brian Goulart, Steve Bechard, Amanda Switzer, Paul Capuzzo and of course the guy who started it all Paul Dixon.
Here's a few from the crew above...
And of course the Godfather himself Paul Dixon...
And there you have it. You never know where, and how, life is going to push you towards things or pull you away. In my head at the time I thought I was right where I should be. Not just starting a new adventure but taking it to the next level. And of course with that all the riches and fame that come with being a full time fly fishing guide. But then life gets in the way.
In 2014 I had posted 269 times to this blog. In 2015 that number was down to 26. Looking back I don't think I caught a striped bass that year, including a week up in the Vineyard with the guys. There was no Upper Delaware, I didn't renew my Orvis Endorsed status, and there was no Montauk or Jersey boat trips. There was a day on the beach at IBSP in November for the Orvis 301 class, something that I'm going to revisit this fall with Andrew.
It's funny how I can correlate my fishing life and my life life by blog posts. I can see the trend leading up to 2012-2014 years as I put a tremendous time on the waters and into this blog and then when it kinda changed in 2015 and through the journey back into nursing and the various degrees from different universities. In the end I am left with 100,000 in student debt and a resume of a bunch of nursing jobs that may have left me, well, uninspired and empty, but all the while doing so much good for so many people. So in the end did I really make the correct financial/ fullfillment decision. Should I have just done the fishing bum thing which brought me a tremendous amount of happiness? Who knows, it's so easy to Monday morning quaterback out life's decisions.
So where do I point if I want to when I reflect and ask the question of why in 2014 did I stray away from being a fly fishing guide? I could, but in the end I just have to point the finger at myself. Things happened for a season, a reason or a lifetime. Through all the tumultuous stuff in the past 10 years fly fishing has been both a constant and a mental disorder. Where once rises by wild fish to tiny bugs used to be the pinnacle of my fly fishing life that's now replaced by a fish with striped that moves around driven by the urge to spawn and follow bait fish.
It's all just in a life. One day this too will all pass. The interest or the ability or life's circumstances will dictate the amount of effort and content I can muster up each year. You will see the numbers trend downward from nearly 300, to 100, to just a trickle if they come at all. But for now, I am left with the memories of lives past, and the desire to get out there as much as I can and live an average anglers life.
Well. Whatever. Since I had a warm and fuzzy feeling about fishing and Hurricane Lee off the Eastern Seaboard I got the go ahead from Theresa. I knew the surf had been building since I was out two days ago and fishing it at night wasn't going to happen. The only good thing about the moon phase, tide and time of day is that dead low is after 3 am, so there's less water to knock you around.
Lee was 425 miles from Pt. Pleasant where I had decided to give it a shot. I know there's lots of bait around and certain rivers hold fish all summer long and they start to chew when the bait moves. Before I headed east I broke out my new fly line. Yep, I cheated on Orvis, and well, Scientific Anglers, whom Orvis bought in 2013. I hope, and not like me, that you've always thought Orvis poured their own fly lines up in Manchester, Vermont. No, I think Orvis "designs" their own lines and SA producers them for them. If you read descriptions of the lines from each there is definitely some blurring going on. What is amazing to me is the price that fly lines are fetching these days. Check out the line from SA below.
That's $129 bucks. That's a fly line you don't want to step on with your wader studs and run along the rocks on your favorite groin. What I did go with was Cortland's "Striped Bass Blitz" for my 10 wt. I had
my lovely assistant help me stretch it out before I took some time to make sure I was all buttoned up and ready for a long night of fishing. My thinking was to hit the back because that's where the bait is, the fish might just like to hang tight and eat before heading out front for the morning meal, and I wasn't
going to play with the building surf. I had the joint to myself and found the bait in good amounts. It is no doubt the start of the fall migration of bait, and I think bass, well the early September bass. It was an interesting night. Storm out front with a new moon tide with water in the back that just didn't want to
drain. Yes it moved, but slowly like it was holding on and dragging it's nails across the chalkboard. At times it almost felt like the tide was on the flood because the surge would come in and waves would crash along the rocks and bulkheads.
It was a bluefish fest with 3-5 pound blues destroying bait and flies as well. Near the light I did see a few nice sized bass below the fray that would come up and refuse my offerings. It was four hours of mostly watching and waiting or jumping from spot to spot to see if the tide had any bass lined up in
feeding lanes. That just didn't happen.
The boys have been on the beach and Leif sent me this pic yesterday of a keeper sized bass that hit, a Snake Fly?, of course not, just a beat up old UAF (Ugly Ass Fly). The new line was great. It was supple, loaded well, almost like a RIO Outbound, but not, and had a new fly line slickness to it.
Going forward into this week Hurricane Lee will be moving north and east. The tides will be bottomed out at sunup and sundown which may be okay if you can find beaches that have some
structure, or have new structure from this blow. Hopefully the mullet will still be here, which I think it will as it wasn't a super storm. I just hope the bass stick around to feed on them.
Here's an oldy but a goody from early September 2013. Those were the years when we had a solid mullet run. It lasted for days, or a week or so, and you could pretty much see or catch bass every morning while it lasted.
It's mullet that was on the menu and may be this week or next. Mullet spend the summer in the back bay nurseries maturing before making the trek out into the big ocean heading south, or at least in a south direction. They swim in the upper third of the water column and leave a v-wake when they are
just below the surface. If they bass are there they can't resist and they can be seen patrolling the troughs and groins where the mullet follow the structure going south. You can see swirls or blow ups when they are on the bait.
Richie has seen decent sized pods as he hits it just about everyday. Yesterday morning I saw two mullet in rough waters. It's great when the water is calm and you can see them coming down from the next beach up above. On Facebook Captain Chris Buchta was scouting yesterday and reports the
waters in the Manasquan Inlet teaming with mullet. All you need are the bass to sniff them out to have a good time. Hopefully this Hurricane Lee blow doesn't mess it up and we have them on the beach after it passes this weekend.
For fly rodders the bait of choice is Lou Tabory's Snake Fly. It's a combo of ostrich plume, marabou, and tightly stacked deer belly hair. They like them up in the water column and retrieved on the backside of the waves as they approach the beach. It's a visual thing so most times you be witness to the chase and the take.
When fishing bigger water some dumbbell eyes can help with the cast and cutting into the waves. They can be tied in all your favorite colors, my favorite is black, but also chartreuse, white, yellow, olive and blue. Get out there and find the mullet and hopefully you'll find some bass. Just be careful in the sporty weather either fishing from the beach or the rocks.
If you're a striped bass angler then you know you should be fishing this week. It's fall. The mullet run may be just around the corner. We have a Hurricane, Lee, building and about to run the coast. It's go time. It might not be Bill Wetzel snotty Montauk weather big fish fishing, but for us in New Jersey it could be a good start. Today is the professor's day off so when I rolled over at 315 am I knew it was time to go. It was 30 minutes before I had my alarm set for but I never sleep well the night before a fishing trip.
By 445 am I was walking away from the Jeep after deciding which set up I was going to try. I had the long rod with me if the waves were huge and breaking at the beach. I had a 10 wt with a 300 gr line if it wasn't too bad.
But the set up I went with was the 11wt with the Bank Shot line. That's a sink tip with a floater behind it. I have used it well in the Delaware, even when using a popper. Through the darkness I could make out the outline of the groin so I knew, at least for a bit, I could perch myself on the rocks and fish down into the water. That's how a popper works with a sinking line. To increase my odds I tied in a Black
Deceiver-ish fly and went to work. I was there a few hours into the incoming and was surprised to find the water on the low side and not as big as I thought it would be. I hit the rocks and then moved to the beach. For about an hour I tossed the two-fly set up without a touch. It wasn't easy keeping up with the
incoming tide and a few times I caught it just wrong and the flies would wind up behind me. What was great was the beat I was on had a bar out front, so the waves would break out, and then roll in, but not like cut you down in, just a nice rolling surf. I looked up and down the beach and it wasn't the same in
other stretches as the waves rolled in and collapsed with a bit of a thunderous roar. So I stayed put.
I made my way onto the rocks and went as east as I safely could. Most times the waves would break and then water would just find it's way between the rocks. Other times it would cover completely. There was a swell, but it wasn't bad. But you know it's a swell when after the waves roll in and then the water just empties out like someone pulled a drain on a bathtub.
I had one fish jump the popper and then swipe on the trailer as light arrived. A bit later it was the same action just this time with out a follow up swipe. I stayed on it, for like another hour, really, like really, wanting to catch a fish today.
It just felt like it was dying a bit as the top of the tide approached so I went underneath. Again a two fly set-up this time with a pair of Squimpish Deceivers, one in chartreuse and white and the other school
bus yellow. It didn't take long to get some attention and I hooked a bass that I saw, maybe 24 inches, that came unbuttoned as it was a rock climber and I didn't have my fingers on the trigger. Towards the
top of the tide the water did push in a bit and since it was a while since I had any love I backed out and went to walk the beach. That lasted about 200 feet before I called this stretch a morning and headed out.
It's funny when you get a new or new-to-you car, no evertyhing bagels inside, no McDonalds or those french fries that always find a way in between the seats, and then, of course no waders. I also kept my waders on when I made the jump between beaches, but so far I haven't. I headed south to larger groin and watched as a few guys spin fished, without much for technique or effort.
It's going to get sporty out front over the next few days into the weekend so if you're going tomorrow might be your day. Be careful as the water and waves can spin you around or cut your feet out from under you. I didn't see any fish leave the water and the only bait I saw was a few mullet swimming into the pocket without any fish on them.
While a fall blow can shut down a run temporarily, maybe this timing is good and we'll see more bait and fish next week. Get out there and make some reports.
