A Few Striped Bass in Sandy Hook Wash

Got the phone call just before five this morning. Oliver Round was in a Quick Check lot, where his car wouldn't start. We arranged the situation so he would arrive at my house by Uber after he got the car towed through AAA. While we fished later, a new battery got delivered to his house. 

In the meantime, Brenden Kuprel texted me minutes after the call. He was on his way to Sandy Hook. When Oliver and I got there, he had been fishing the Lot A area for going on two hours, having lost one bass and seen some caught. Oliver and I proceeded to Lot B, because Oliver knew it has a bathroom. 

We got to surf's edge to find one of the guys among two or three others had just caught a small bass that must have barely broken the 28-inch size limit. An hour or two later, we saw another caught of about the same size, maybe a little better, and had got word of one getting caught before we had arrived. 

We fished for some four hours. Obviously there were some bass in the surf, all of them having hit in the wash. A strong northeast breeze blew cold, 40-degree air onshore. Low tide I believe was 5:53, which means we did get an hour of fishing rising tide, but for the most part, water was shallow and the waves persistent. Even casting a heavy Krocodile spoon, I couldn't get it over the outer breakers until about halfway through the session, when I cast and cast to fish five or six yards behind those big breakers. I hoped I'd intercept a pod going by and one of the bass would take my offering. 

I also fished a Deadly Dick. I tried a Binsky bladebait on my lighter rod. And I cast an Ava 17 rigged with a teaser.

Oliver gave up throwing lures and tried clam. 

I used to surf fish all the time during the fall with my son. We brought foldout chairs and sort of broke camp by water's edge, holding our rods in surf-spike tubes, watching them intently, usually grabbing hold before one of them got pulled over and dragged towards the wash. 

We did catch a lot of bass. So no interest in the clam Oliver put out dismayed me a little. 

Brenden Kuprel showed up, having walked all the way from Area A. He told me he witnessed six caught, all on the Ava. He was here a week ago. With kids off for the teacher's convention, the lot was full, he told me, fishermen lined up on the beach, catching nothing at all. So at least there were some fish in the surf today. Or had been. By the time I really got involved in casts and retrieves, having had to deal with my black Lab Loki before that, it felt like nothing was there at all.

After I spoke about those years with my son, Oliver said, "Yeah. And if you didn't catch stripers, at least you caught skates." The surf felt all the more dead for none of them being around. The water is still plenty warm. 

On the way over the bridge, Oliver said, "Have you ever been up to Twin Lights?" I saw the lighthouses up on the ridge in front of us. 

"Never have."

"I'm surprised. You're into this kind of thing."

"I just never thought of it, so preoccupied with all else."

We continued driving across the bridge, and I don't remember what was said, but as we neared the other side, I said, "Do you want to go up there?"

Today I climbed to the top of one of the Twin Lights, snapping the two photos from above. 

Redfish on a Killie

 

The Kind of Guy Who Imagines Things

First photo done on my new laptop.

Had intended to work all day at setting this thing up, but after I ran into trouble with Microsoft Office, I didn't want to try Lightroom until my wife is here. Not that I'll depend on her help with Lightroom, but just her being here will make the exercise more comfortable for me. She thinks I'm kind of techy, but I am terrified of these machines. 

She'll help--I hope!--with Office.

She's actually good at it. I'm the kind of guy who imagines things. That's great for art, but it makes technical stuff a nightmare. 

So I texted her, saying I'd go fishing, 

which is what I did, but I could have been tripping on some mushrooms on the way there. Alien experience. The bodily life of things hollowed out. It was Monday night I picked the laptop up from the Geek Squad at Best Buy, after they transferred all the files and did a minimal--stress on minimal--setup. Regardless, I didn't want to transfer files through Carbonite, as I'm sure there'd be a lot coming across the threshold I had already deleted. They keep files for 30 days. That would have been a mess and would have taken a lot of time, too. Tuesday night Trish and I saw Macbeth on stage after eating seafood at Rod's in Morristown, and last night I worked on this machine. 

I recall--early in 2020--that I paid Staples $79.99 for file transfer, and that after it took a week or two, I checked the Geek Squad price. It's the same price today, $99.99. Set up is an additional $39.99. Programs you're left doing. They set up the order of the files & check that the hard drive works.

Fished a spot new to me

on the South Branch Raritan. I gave it at least an hour, probably a little more. A large pool down below the shallows near and under the bridge photographed, that pool not very deep but deep enough. I worked the jig shallow and deep, never getting hit, trying to come down to reality from all the stress. 

Loki was with me and loved it. The black Lab. 

As I drove off, I felt that I used to have higher standards. I never left a fishing trip without feeling truly rejuvenated. Actually, I judged too quick, because when I got home, I felt that familiar glow of having let the garbage go. 

So it was a good outing after all. I do remember, though, having pulled onto 22 with the intention of buying inexpensive gas and feeling a strange identity with the boxy architecture of a business warehouse. I also marveled at vehicles on the road, as if it's amazing they work. But I'll get this machine up & going.

With today's weather, it would have been nice to have got out in the squareback. Lots of time for that next year.   

Last Year Going the Extra Distance Resulted in a Trout

 

River Smallmouth on the Black Maribou Jig

Mark thinks with the low water fish got caught and taken home. Seems a possibility to me, too, but maybe we just didn't see fish through the water's tannic tone, nor hook many. 

Mark caught a couple rainbows. I had a fish on for a moment that probably was another one, lost a small fish that could have been a sunny, and caught the smallmouth bass photographed below. 

Mark uses a centerpin outfit and usually does pretty well with it. On a springtime occasion, he told me his river stints are practice for Pulaski. Recently, he was up there for steelhead. The news he has today is that fish have pushed upstream in numbers since the four days that yielded him one. (He also caught three resident rainbows, each about a foot long.) One of the guys he fishes with is fantastic at using plastic beads for the steelhead and caught only four. Mark said of his fish, "It made the whole time up there worthwhile."

My sympathies exactly. The last I fished steelhead, my son, Matt, and I went up there with fly rods in November 2015. I remember fishing only three days. On the first we kind of messed around after getting up there in the afternoon. The second we fly-fished with a guide, and Matt caught the only steelhead reported on the Douglaston Salmon Run the entire morning, a fish of about six pounds on some buggy-looking blue fly. The third day, I caught one about four pounds on an Estaz Egg imitation, Matt fought one that took off downstream, and I almost hooked another. Enough to make me want to go back.

Beautiful warm day today. It's hard to believe it's over already as I write, but as I drove away from the river, the day felt full. I had given the fishing the sensible effort it required. I know these maribou jigs work. I've caught a lot of fall & winter trout on them. Mark with his egg sac under a float that positions so precisely in a pool is a little intimidating, because he seems to always catch more that way. But instead of succumbing to suckedness, I fished that damn jig as if it has the dignity it's proven to have. I was looking at pocket water that did have depth to it, for example. Instead of passing it up or fishing it half-assed, I fished every pocket thoroughly, as if a rainbow might be there that would hit. Or even a wild brown.

Instead, one of the pockets resulted in a smallmouth bass that had taken station, probably feeding. Had I not fished as confidently and thoroughly as I did, I never would have come across that fish. The mystery, though, is why am I not catching the rainbows? Last year, I caught them every outing this time of year. Water was pretty low then, too. At least I had that hit today, surely a rainbow, though I don't really know. 

Before today with Mark, I fished the Flatbrook, where I really did not see many fish, and the North Branch yesterday, where I also saw relatively few fish compared to last year. Both places trout took interest in the jig. They followed. But none lurched ahead and struck as they did last year.

North Branch Raritan flowing low

Last Year

 

Miles of Stream to Wade for Wild Fish

The Big Flatbrook is such a special place you forgive it when you get skunked. I think in all these years, I've caught one trout. Maybe two. Never have caught one in the fall. 

Today I found some. Not many, but at least half a dozen held in a pool about four feet deep. I also tried a couple of other spots where I didn't see any. The stream was almost tap water clear. Even so, if anyone remembers the situation last year, rivers were low and clear then, also. Trout stocked in the North Branch hit my maribou jig despite that condition of very clear, low water. 

That same type of jig tempted some interest, at least. A number of my retrieves had a trout follow behind, a few times two or three, but no hits.

Annually, my wife and I go up there to eat at Walpack Inn. It's not chiefly a fishing trip, and last year I didn't even give it a try. 

I don't know the status of wild browns in the brook, or brook trout for that matter. How plentiful or uncommon. The Little Flatbrook is said to have brookies, and I've read about brookies caught in the Big Flatbrook in the Blewett Tract. What I observe when I'm up there, though, is that many miles of flow exist between access points, so anyone young and full of lust to explore can have a field day.

When, I believe, I was 17, I fished the Dunnfield Creek from the parking lot at I-80 all the way up to the plateau on top of Kittatiny Ridge. Had to do some serious bushwhacking. I caught only five or six native brook trout, but most of them were nine inches, and five or six felt like plenty to me. It was a deeply absorbing, even mystical effort.

 

Low-head dam down near the defunct bridge to Mine Road. Water is shallow above and below.

Roy Bridge

Dunnfield

 

Late October Chatterbaits for Largemouths and Pickerel

One last go at it before cold comes. Late October and the weather is turning. We got on the lake before sun got on the water, temperature 56 degrees, water temperature 58 degrees. The water temp quickly rose to 59 and then 60 at about the time we got off the water at 11:54.

I wanted to feel a big bass absolutely slam my Chatterbait. I've felt it before, and of course Brian has. I never forget him saying, "They hit like they want to kill it." 

Kill it right there and then.

A Chatterbait is a vibrating jig. 

That's the key concept, vibration, which provokes those savage attacks. I have no trouble feeling the bait chatter while using an IM6 rod, because the braid I also use transmits the vibration tightly. I distinctly feel each motion back and forth. Chat-ter, chat-ter, chat-ter and so on. The rod tip bounces just enough, the tip light enough to sway with each chat and ter, but strong enough to resist any sagging.   

I caught a pickerel of 22 inches or so that gave two big thuds when it took the lure, and I thought that was a bass. But never mind, catching a pickerel is fine with me, and when I did end up with a bass, it gave a hard pull, though it hadn't slammed the lure. No matter really. The morning is what it was, and both of us appreciated it. Leave that killer impulse for another day to come. 

I measured the bass. Or tried to. Definitely over 18 inches, it might be 18 1/2 or even 18 3/4. Whatever it is exactly, it's back in the lake. Chunky fish over three pounds. 

I did try a Yum Dinger around algae matts and shoreline brush, but I got hit only once, 

from either a small pickerel or a perch, I believe. Two decisive jabs. Not the tittle sunfish transmit, but no grab when I yanked back. It was a morning for Chatterbaits. In depths of four feet and as much as seven or eight. Maximum depth in the lake is nine feet, but there's a lot of eight-foot water, though more of it is four. Using the portable sonar graph was a really good idea, and I won't forget it next time, either.

Brian's good at Chatterbaits. His favorite. He's good with jerk baits, too, but he models himself as a Chatterbait bassman. He caught a nice largemouth of at least 17 inches, I believe, three pickerel, and three or four yellow perch. He also lost a bass on the leap that was a lot bigger. Bassman regardless, he enjoys pickerel and perch. One of the perch is 13 1/2 inches, the biggest pickerel 24 3/4. I measured those fish, too, and Brian wanted a photograph of the tape measure against the pickerel, also, which hadn't been difficult for the perch, except that it's rusty. For a NJ Skillful Angler Award. If you commit to that program, buy a bump board and always carry it with you. To compromise the slime on a pickerel just for an award is no bargain. I gave up trying to arrange a photo before I would have been certain that pickerel wouldn't survive.

I had hoped to get the post you're reading finished by mid-afternoon, but I got tired, even though I had slept nine hours last night. 

Never got tired on the lake. Tomorrow I have another day of work, and then I have a week off. I groan at facing the job tomorrow but soon I'll retire. I make the best of the work anyhow. It is physical, though, and I'm happy to report that fishing Chatterbaits all morning didn't pain my upper back as the job does. Besides, Brian has invested in Trika rods made of a carbon fiber that results in rods so light I need to look into how they balance with reels. I use a Lew's Speed Stick, and the rod is heavy by comparison, so if I make some money selling photographs online, a Trika will be a treat I can't refuse, even though I managed just fine with the Speed Stick today. So long as Trika makes a medium-heavy power rod. 

I'll try to get out and fish next week. At least once. The Fisherman magazine's editor, Jim Hutchinson, told me he'll let me know if the stripers are in the surf, and if so and all else lines up, we'll fish together. An invitation from someone I've deeply respected for years working with him. If it doesn't work out this year, it might next. I'll be available for more than a week next year. 

Otherwise, I have to transfer data from my current laptop to a new one, so I won't be fishing as much as might have. Regardless, Trish and I plan on dinner at the Walpack Inn inside Delaware Watergap National Recreation Area. I'll bring a rod. 

Red Evo Chatterbait with a big paddletail trailer.

20 Inches

 

Couple Last Shots at Big Ones Before Cold Comes

With the warm weather, I didn't want to pass up on giving the river near work a shot. I fished only half an hour, and got hit only by some panfish or other. Decided that with the water temperature up, I'd use a floating Rapala rather than a Husky Jerk. Amazes me how fast that #9 Floater rises to the surface with a wire leader attached. 

Water level is very low, of course. I did manage to get the plug next to a lot of wood in the water, but apparently no pike or pickerel were on the stuff. 

Water color was a little off as usual. Not clear as Brenden and I found it far downstream closer to Little Falls. Plenty of carp seem to swim in the area. I remember Kevin Murphy, who worked as seafood manager at Stirling Shop Rite for years, telling me that during a great flood when water covered the parking lot, he stood at one of the doors, watching a big carp hugging the asphalt. 

Getting up at 5:30 a.m. tomorrow to fish bass with Brian Cronk. One last shot at a big one before cold weather descends. 

River Trout Soon

 

Vegetation on the Bottom Decomposes Quickly

At least that's as it seems. I was at the reservoir Thursday for a photography session, and I saw a lot of it that sticks above the surface is dead, dried out, and about to disintegrate. I also noticed clean bottom where I'd expect to see vegetation lingering from when the low-water exposure was a field of the stuff. 

In any event, catching trout from shore is quite possible. I spoke to someone three weeks ago who had caught two rainbows. They usually reach the shoreline shallows in mid-September, when the surface temp falls to 70. 

I haven't actually heard of trout caught since, but it's a reasonable assumption to think that if a couple got caught, more have followed and probably preceded. 

I have no plans to fish for them until late December, when I hope Fred Matero joins my son and me again. I just don't have time otherwise. I'm still busy with the photography, because I'm just doing my best to capture changes in the reservoir landscape. My hope is that I can glean a hundred or more photos from my collection of thousands for a book of Round Valley photography. And if that's too much to ask, the collection certainly exists. 

We've just seen the lowest reservoir levels in its history. We may never again see such low water. I was there, week after week, photographing results. In all those years, I never once met anyone else with a tripod, let alone rarely anyone with a DSLR. 

For your own reference, if you're interested in giving shoreline trout a shot, the reservoir level has dropped a couple feet, which means a few yards or more of space for easy casting. We just haven't got rain, and New Jersey Water Supply Authority probably pumped some water out so Somerville gets some water from the Raritan. 

Big Brown