11.06.23 Holy Batman....I caught a few fish

     First off, let me thank Leif for this nice picture that he took of me up on the rocks. We had a plan for this morning and like all plans they can possibly change. The plan was to start at first light and spend the day fishing somewhere, anywhere, maybe even multiple anywheres trying to find some fish. The 

change of the clocks always has me messed up until I can adjust. I went to bed early and of course woke up early as well. 2 am is too early. But I got up and tinkered around and left the house at 320 am. I was still tired. When I got to the beach I took a peek and then just put the seat back and caught an hour of 

sleep. Before I did I took a look at the wind forecast. It was honking this morning and the 12 mph was surely off because I would say it was over 20 until it sat down later in the morning. It was windy enough to put my rod holding magnet into work and it is really a valuable tool. It gives you peace of mind when 

tying up some leaders or flies in windy conditions. No more sliding down the side of my truck. I went with the Pulse Disc-Brad Buzzi sand eel fly combination behind a black Deceiver but after swimming it I just wasn't getting the action I wanted so I went to a Flatwing that I thought could mimic a sand eel

as I have heard they are around. It was an hour or two before dead low and between the tide, the NNE wind, and the north to south sweep it wasn't easy finding and getting the fly into a potential zone. I went over to a popper/dropper which I worked hard for a bit before the wind left my sails. Leif was 

picking pockets on the south sides of the groins and Richie worked another beach where he would get one to hand. The water looked great and felt great and I was really surprised we didn't get one between 

us. So then it was time to make a decision. I didn't want to donate the entire day of more of the same that has been since the start of this fall run. Driving, watching, and waiting with some casting mixed in. So I told Leif my plan, head north with stops in the usual spots, and then circle back before heading for home. He thought about it for a second and deferred a day off to a better vibe of a day. So I was off. 

     Heading north I thought about my options. Hit The Bagel Guys, that sell no small milks, a lame 7-11 in Long Branch or Sea Bright, or just wait for the quick turn around to hit Bagel Talk. That's what I was thinking of. This has become such a routine. But one thing I liked about today was limited number of people fishing and the limited number of boats out there. I guess some wind will do that to them. When

I arrived at the above spot there a few guys fishing, older and just soaking some bait, and weren't really interested in the bird fest going on around them. It was good bird life. Like real good. And it wasn't too far out. And best, there were fish under them. 

     Their distance and the wind had me thinking I needed to come up with a plan to intercept them if they pushed in. The bird life increased and looking south there were even more. So I got into my truck and calculated where I should go. When I got to the beach the birds had moved way south, at least the big flock of them, although there were a few out front and more had retreated to wait it out on the beach. I was bummed. I was alone. And then out of the corner of my eye there were a couple of birds hovering

right off the beach and over a trough. There was really no bait showing and no signs of bass but it piqued my interest to give it a try. So I made my way to them, put my camera and binoculars down on a plastic tote, and started to make some casts. It didn't take long for this 26 inch fish to hit the lead of 

the two fly set-up. I continued to fish always looking over my shoulder wanting to see if anyone saw me hook up. As I made casts and looked into the water there were probably 12-20 bass swimming 

feverishly along the lip where the trough met the beach scarp. On just about every cast one or two bass would give chase, at times I would stop the retrieve and the bass behind it would freeze, and then 

turn away. My timing was a tad late because it was just about dead low and the trough was easy to see and fish, in fact, I had to lay back a bit as you could have nearly sight casted to them. In between the 

three that I landed I had three on and off, and several swipes and inhales. When the tide started rolling it there were plenty of swings and misses as the fish would come out of the trough through the top of the waves to smack at it. The next fish was 29 inches, a long and slender version, who must have missed the 

dinner bell a few times. So now a guy arrived and started to walk my way. I had to hold my cast for about 5-7 minutes as he passed. I knew if I made a cast in his presence I would have went tight, guaranteed. He must have been done fishing because he didn't fish he just kept walking. When his back was to me I started to fish again. The fish hadn't left. It was more of the same before the best fish of the 

day hit it hard. I caught two on the lead yellow Squimpish fly and had one of the trailing fly. This one was a great fish that made my skunk worth it. Once hooked it dove into the trough and then it played up and down trying to get back down deep as I lifted, or try to coax, him onto the beach. This one 

didn't miss a meal and if you look you can see the full stomach on it. This one went 32 inches, on the tape measure, and I thought when it hit it was much bigger. Another guy arrived an started to fish working his way towards me. It was Billy Hoblitzell. He had seen me land that fish and wondered how big it was because from a distance it "looked like a good fish". I'm glad I had the tape measure with me because I could have, well would have, easily called this a 35 inch fish. Tape measures keep you, well me, honest. 

     Conditions started to change and it was now a tad bigger in front of us. Billy picked up a fish but I was starting to tire so I, and then he, called it an outing. That didn't mean we were done. We both checked some spots on the way south and each time I thought I was done I would say to myself, "Let me just 

take a look". I was done. I was hungry. But I had to check out Long Branch. I pulled onto Ocean Avenue and paralleled the boardwalk driving for a few blocks before seeing the below scene. No one of the beach. Birds working in tight over bait. Bass busting underneath. I quickly got my stuff and while double timing it 

there I stopped a fired off a few pics. By the time I got there they were gone. Alright, I can't do this all day. I thought to myself as I pulled myself up the stairs "Thank God I'm working the next two days". So I made yet another quick stop to look and there was nothing going on. By now I was starving and was only a few minutes from my place. I even called it in to hurry the process of getting it down my gullet. 

I was so happy to have broke the skunk that I didn't care that all of the small milks had been sold out. By the time I was out of the parking lot the bagel was gone. I swallowed it too fast. Kind of like a bass eating a whole bunker. Done but really not I wanted to see if anything was going on a little south so I 

took a look, like what I saw, and fished. The waste along the south side of the groin was clean and green and moving out strong even on the incoming tide. The boats were stacked up over what I guess was a line of bunker but today I didn't see a lot of bait. It was a great day, yes, because I got a few. I had been on a 50 day dry spell so I was due. 

     While on the beach I saw the Big Mohawk heading into the yard. I took a peek on their Facebook page to check their report from yesterday. It was Sunday when I had them in front of me on Brick beach

 and then down into IBSP. Looks like they got a few but had a tough day and a long ride in their search for fish. 

     Okay, here's my thoughts. And not because I caught a fish. And not because I know anything. What I will say is I think we are going to settle into a "normal" fall run. That is something I like and enjoy fishing. The big fish have done their thing, came hard, and kinda wentish, but they're still here but out a bit and heading south. We have yet to lose our minds over blitzing nice sized bass where the crowds just ruin the whole vibe. What you maybe have now, since the participation is down and the cell phone network isn't in full effect, is the chance to go and fish fishy water and just maybe catch a fish or two, or three. 

     The winds look like they'll continue to be all over the place this week so we'll see. 

11.05.23 Great 18 hours down in O.C....

      I wasn't fishing this weekend. Why go? I've been just what the striped bass need in these times, an angler that is no threat to the stock. I even told Theresa, "If I go fishing this weekend divorce me". I knew this weekend was the Atlantic Saltwater Flyrodder's "Fall Classic" but it didn't fit into my plans. It's been a thing each fall for years. An event held by the club to get members out for some 

fishing and good times. Brad Buzzi, who's club president, works tirelessly, and has for years, to keep the club moving forward, if not alive. He has a small circle of dedicated members who help with the heavy lifting from monthly meetings to get togethers to the fly fishing shows. Kudos and thanks to each of them who keep this going. 

     I had seen some pics of the guys down in Seaside Park where two rooms had been reserved for the weekend. One room was the gathering place where the food and drink were at the ready. About 230 in the afternoon Theresa said she was going for reflexology.......that was after we spent a lovely morning together doing fall and weekend things, like hitting the Columbus and Trenton Farmers Market. I slightly-ever-so-gently mentioned the Fall Classic, and Brad, and Scott, and ....."You should go". Funny thing is she really meant it. And I believed her. In 10 minutes I was gone. 

     I got the lowdown from Scott Stryker. Friday was the first night...nothing going on. Saturday morning was the largest collection of floating vehicles he, and confirmed by Tommy Lynch, has ever seen. There was bunker out of casting range and bass busting through them. Not like last week in Monmouth County busting through them but enough to keep you hopeful. They boys said they saw a few fish caught, but nothing really happening as far as bait and bass inside the bar. The tides are low this weekend at first and last light, so the middays seem to be when it was better. The room at the hotel had been full with about 15 members who stropped by for a visit or a bite, they were gone before I got there. 

     I met the guys at 3rd Avenue and I jumped in Scotty's truck and followed Rick, Paul, and PJ onto the beach. It was perfect conditions and there were hardly any boats, trucks on the beach, or fishermen. 

     We jumped out after looking for a fishy section where cuts and bowls were obvious on the dropping tide. Rich and I are fly only and the other three threw the spinning rods. Scott swam and road tested some of his gliders before switching over to the long rod and tossing out his Beast Fleye which

swims beautifully in the water. Only problem is if there was a bass in the trough it most likely would have been scared out of the water. There just wasn't any bait inside the bars. Paul and his son PJ kept

the fish on the outer bar honest and it was good to have a few spin fishermen around as it's a good gauge to see if there are fish out a ways and out of the range of the fly rod fisherman. I was throwing the two

bunker pattern fly set up blind casting into really sexy water. Compared to Monmouth County the water and structure down here seems so untouched, even though Ocean County has seen it's fill of beach replenishment over the years. But now the beaches are cut up good. No one hooked up and as 

the sun started to set over the bay to our backs it was time to pack up and head to the hotel. Now I had to make a decision. Stay or go. The club had the rooms for the weekend, there seemed to be more fishy stuff showing during the morning, and I never get to spend a lot of time in O.C. or with the boys. 

     Scott dropped me off at my truck and I hit a liquor store in Seaside Heights before getting to the motel. I thought a few Guiness would go down nicely during the evening hang. Well the beers went down easy, the food was good, and the hang was the best part. I had to pull the trigger and make a decision. I stepped outside and into the offcie and called Theresa and she said, "You should stay", and 

so I did. But if I was staying I wanted to fish. The boys were beat from the two-a-day sessions so I was on my own if I wanted to fish. Rich, Paul and PJ headed home so it was Scott, Brad and I holding court. It was mainly talks about fly fishing and fly tying in todays world. We talked of the legends and the current players and where this is all heading to, and who is going to lead it. 

     By 1130 Scott and Brad were ready to call it a night. A few hours later the clocks would be turned back an hour so there would be bonus time on the beach. I made my way outside before heading over the dunes to the beach. It was about 2 hours before high tide and I could hear the surf as I finished up getting ready at my truck. As I did I heard several voices a few trucks away. It was posse of young 

surfcasters who were voicing their displeasure with the lack of a bite for two hours, where they were going next, and where would they get something to eat and drink. It was refreshing to hear. They fish hard and fish alot. I just loved speding time with them and listening to their stories. They know each other but are a mix of Jersey, Pennsy, and Delaware boys. So we parted ways not knowing what the

night would hold. It was the last quarter of the moon and there was plenty to keep the surf lit up. I had to walk a bit reading the water to find where it emptied out and where the troughs were. There were a few spin fishermen out there but most of the guys I ran into, almost literally, were soaking bunker. 

     By 2 am I was back in the room and ready to hit the couch. Luckily there was a spare pillow and blanket and I fell asleep quickly before setting the alarm for 5 am. Around 4 am Brad's bladder must have been calling and I heard him so I got up, it was as good a time as any. But I needed some coffee. I knew the shittiest 7-11 ever opened was up in the Park so I made the quick trip. To my surprise Betty and Nicks was opened, and it was a little after 4, and there were customers stocking up on fresh 

bunker from the big white cooler. The coffee I got there never tasted so good. I hit the beach and found the conditions a little more manageable and easier to read. I was confident I would get bit. I had 

changed over to my black two-fly set up and walked deep into IBSP to find a bowl not occupied by guys and was to my liking. One guy had a bigger fish on a bunker chunk that flipped off in the wash, that just ruined his day, but it gave me hope. As first light arrived more anglers started to show and I could see 

the tail lights of the beach buggy brigade start to make their way onto the beach. Then Scott called and asked me, "What the F are you doing?", as it was go time. So I double timed it back to the motel and jumped in Scott's truck. Rich had already headed up for the early scout and we would find him easily. 

     As soon as we pulled onto the beach we saw a pod of bait and a bluefin, like no doubt, or it was the biggest albie in the ocean, breach the water next to a boat that was moving in. Tom Lynch was just ahead of us and after a quick scout he made a move into IBSP as that's where most of the boats seemed to be heading. We had some near us 

and you know how that goes. One boat stops, then another, and then there's twenty. If you look below by clicking on the image you can see the flotilla right outside the Manasquan Inlet, and to the south the fleet was building off Barnegat Inlet as well. We fished for a bit and watched a guy who was steps away

from Route 35 hook and land an over-slot bass that got the full sand breading and photo shoot before being released back in. That fish was also on a fresh bunker chunk. So we stayed a bit after and watched 

the economy-is-bad selection of some of the finest fishing boats out there. My favorite are the ones with trips or quads in the back that like to cut in between the fleet and the beach surfing the bar heading south on the gas. Our new plan was to hit IBSP and ride it for a while looking for signs of life. It was more 

boats on bait from what we could see from the beach. We saw the Big Mohawk, a Belmar head boat, down deep into IBSP so I wondered was going on, or not, up north. We just drove and then stopped and 

got out and watched for a bit. We saw one center console get a little too close to the bar and go up and sideways when the swell carried him in. It looked real sketchy there for a second but he motored out and was safe, tucking his tail and retreating into the middle of the boat crowd. 

      We had had just enough of fly fishing this epic Jersey fall run so we made for the exit to get back to the motel to help Brad break it all down and cleaned loaded up in his truck. He had to wrap all this classic stuff up because it's bucktail processing season and the International Fly Tying Symposium is next weekend so he needs to have plenty of stock for the show. And Brad, if you read here, remember my black!