Unique Beauty of Meadowlands' DeKorte Park

 We began by fishing rising tide in the upper flat.

My family and I came to the New Jersey Meadowlands' DeKorte Park near Lyndhurst in 2009 or 2010, with New Jersey Audubon on a birding venture. I returned with two other New Jersey Audubon members in January 2010 or 201l, a frigid afternoon in the low 20's, photographing various species of wintering ducks, when the leader told me about striped bass arriving on the Sawmill Creek Flats here where we walked the trail dikes, in March. He told me they congregate around the pipes connecting the flats separated by these pathway dikes, where tidal flows concentrate and pass in strong currents. Soon my son and I were fishing a few outgoing tides and hooking up with a few schooley stripers.

Fred Matero first came with me five years ago in April, when we found the pathways fenced off after Hurricane Sandy. That afternoon and evening we wound up fishing the Hackensack River after tortuous attempts at finding access, though we found some. I find it really hard to believe that was five years ago. Seems a much shorter time, and yet it does feel, on the other hand, as if we've come here a long while, and that it has been.

Fred took a strong liking to the Meadowlands, and we came in 2014 and 2017. During the two off years, Fred got over there from Bernardsville by himself at least once. It's a long distance jaunt and we've always scheduled them around outgoing tide.

And all told, we have enjoyed action with few bass. Every time it seems we meet a regular and strike up conversation, getting more informed on the fishing. Today's confidant lives relatively nearby and has fished here a lot since March this year, as well as the Hackensack River nearby, although he's caught no stripers in the river itself, only on the flats at DeKorte where they arrive from that river, and he's caught them in significant numbers, but not size. He told us another regular said he's caught keeper-size bass (thrown back) through the summer, which surprised me. Someone years ago told me the action is done by June.

There's good reason to release all of the fish, as this is a park requirement, because the hills near water's edge, for one example of pollution source, are actually garbage dumps covered with soil and planted. If you look for them, you can find vent pipes that release gases. These hills look better than ever now, as bushes and trees have grown since I first saw them in 2009, and twice today I heard a ring-necked pheasant's throaty call from up there somewhere, sounding off like an outboard engine turning over.

Fred made the point that bass we catch here could be bass caught in the surf some other time, as they're migratory, but just the thought of eating a fish with pollutants deeply engrained in the area is plenty to remove want to take any home, not that bass we have caught haven't appeared fully healthy.

And the water seems fairly clean as does the bottom. When tide goes all the way out, besides rather minor channels (except for 30-foot depths near a bridge), the flats are mud featuring patches of Atlantic white cedar stumps. There's good reason they were logged during the 19th century. The wood is so durable they remain today.

Compared to what it was only 30, 40 years ago, DeKorte Park is beautiful. The view of Manhattan is world class. And jets, one after another taking off from Newark International only miles away, I never feel these as any distraction, but rather as adding to the unique aesthetic. One of them, a large airbus, I think, its four engines caught my eye and I felt its weight and majesty, becoming aware after it had passed, still feeling awe, that empathy is not limited to feelings we have for other people and animals. We feel it for objects, too, but objects as subtly personified, as things can inspire poetry.

Of course, that jet was filled with human passengers. So, in some respect, I felt empathy for people I knew were onboard.

The jet passed in the middle of spending at least on hour seated on a large rock, casting especially the edge of strong current. I covered that area thoroughly, lobbing the paddletail swimbait upstream and letting it sink and then swing like a fly-cast streamer across the current, then retrieving it back along that edge facing me. I tried casting it directly into current and letting it vibrate at length in place. Sometimes it very slowly sank when presented this way. On other casts when I tried this strategy the current carried it over to the edge and I reeled back at moderate speed. I let eddies so powerful they were like whirlpools turn and twist the lure. I probed bottom. I reeled quickly, keeping the lure near surface.

Not a hit. But after sunset, we walked about 3/4ths of a mile back to Fred's favorite spot. I got there ahead of him; he wasn't sure if he'd got a bump at the other pipe nearby.

I retrieved my swimbait quickly at the surface. "I don't want to hog your spot!" I called out as he approached. And just as my words finished, I felt a fish knock, and swung my look its way to see a large boil on the surface.

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