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One of the many things that fuels my passion for fishing is the anticipation of an upcoming trip. The mystique of what might happen. The planning. Watching the weather / wind charts. Checking the tides and lunar phases. Taking stock of my gear (and finding excuses for more...). Making travel plans with friends.
So it was that all these things came into play about 3 weeks ago when I discovered that I had somehow been granted a unrequested 3 day weekend from the retail grind. As soon as I saw the schedule, I had only one thought in mind - that of an early season Albie run to my favorite waters at the northeastern tip of Long Island.
I reached out to some buddies and planted the seed. My message was simple and clear. "I'm going for Albies. Want in?" To my surprise, both happily agreed and a road trip was born.
Neither had ever experienced the joyous (yet terrifying) squeal of screaming drag as a False Albacore heads for the distant shore, threatening to take all of your line with them. Both had listened to my repetitive attempts to put the experience into words and would nod along as they humored me while I gushed about the wonders of this fish. I knew that mere words could never do justice to the experience - much like trying to explain the wonders of becoming a first time father to someone who never had kids.
I knew that the weekend in question was right at the cusp of when these migratory monsters might arrive in the target area, but I was more than willing to gamble and make the 6+ hour drive to get my first crack at them this year. I worked the network that I had developed over recent years and got inconclusive feedback. Early reports of "They're here" evolved into "I heard someone caught one in Montauk, but I haven't seen any pictures..."
The weather and the winds were going to be perfect. Regardless of the lack of definitive intel, I was bound and determined to make the trip, whether the fish were there out not. Just the thought of a possible outside chance that I might get the possibility to maybe hook one was more than I needed to commit the time and money to a risky endeavor.
I spent hours retrofitting my roof rack on my tiny Subaru to be able to accommodate a second boat. My PA 14 takes up a tremendous amount of space so it was not a simple undertaking. I then invested a considerable amount of time rigging my spare Tarpon 120 with a rudder, rod holders, crate and anything else needed for the trip. I wasn't about the let equipment limitations (or failure) disrupt my attempts to cast to breaking fish. I felt like Ahab with laser beam focus on only one goal.
IMG_2318.jpg
When the day finally arrived to go, my excitement was palpable. We cranked the tunes and swilled large amounts of caffeine as the car pointed itself north. It already knew the way.
Our first launch was to flat calm 73 degree seas, gorgeous skies and a flooding tide. A quick stop at Wego Bait and Tackle confirmed that Albies might be somewhere but that it likely wasn't there.
IMG_2317.jpg
No matter. I was road tripping with my buddy (truly a brother from another mother. Sadly, we lost our third to a last minute "I'm out" text), the water was glorious and nothing could dull my anticipation of the opportunity. I was going to will the fish to come.
Nobody told the fish this, however. There were no signs of life beyond a few marks on the screen. Other than something almost yanking my jigging rod out of my hand and breaking me off in a moment of complacent inattention (and overly tightened drag), we were blanked for a couple of hours. I still wasn't worried. Life was good and I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else.
At one point, as we worked a rocky point, Tim got the skunk of with a fish he didn't recognize and thought to be an Albie. I disappointed him when I reveled it was "just a Porgey..." A small Sea Bass soon followed. I was still coming empty and getting out fished by my enthusiastic, but novice, buddy.
IMG_2304.jpg
I still didn't have a care in the world, however. The light was getting low and the shadows long as the sun was setting. It was the Magic Hour and almost on cue, my rod went down hard. I quickly reeled in a fat, if unhappy, 24" striper. As I looked up after releasing the fish, I discovered there were breaking fish all around us.
IMG_2305.jpg
I frantically reeled in my trolling rods and reached for my topwater rig. Over the next 20 minutes I hooked and landed 8 healthy, if not overly large, stripers between 18-24". Not the quarry I had been seeking (or the pullage I had been lusting) but more than enough to make the longish peddle back to the launch a happy one! After all, we were using the first day as the trial run for the pre-dawn launch the following morning.
After convincing my buddy that getting up at 4:40am really was needed to be in the right place when the sun come up, we climbed into the tent and crashed hard.
The alarm went off as scheduled and after a quick stop at the 24 hour 7-Eleven for coffee and a hard roll we hit the beach to follow the ebbing tide towards the eastern tip of the island. Other kayak adventurers set off with plans of the own, all seeking the same prey.
IMG_1884.jpgIMG_1880.jpg
Within 10 minutes I reported on the radio "the skunk is off. Cocktail Blue...". It was an excellent way to start the juices flowing for what I was convinced, was going to be a banner day chasing Albies. After a couple of hours (and a couple of random cocktails) we saw nothing to indicate that my visions of grandeur would be realized.
IMG_2322.jpg
That's when I saw them. BIRDS!! Working in the distance. I peddled faster than I ever had and felt that my hobie was getting on plane as I raced to them. Shockingly, they did not persist in staying just out of reach as they are wont to do when they sing their siren songs...
I reached them while the fish were still breaking. I quickly cast my favorite rod loaded with an Albie Crack colored Epoxy jig. I quickly hooked up and felt the drag start to go when the line went slack. All pretense of "Just happy to be out on the water" instantly evaporated as I reeled in a lure-less line. (insert expletive of choice here. I used them all!)
I quickly grabbed another rod and it went tight within a few cranks of the reel. Finally, I was going to enjoy the sensation I had been fantasizing about since my last hookup a year ago. While the fish fought well, it wasn't what I remembered. As I got her close to the boat, I realized why - Bluefish. I quickly boated it and it being a blue that was still too green, it spent the next 90 seconds thrashing around the deck of my boat, fouling lines and covering everything in scales and half digested anchovy puke.
After I got my world back in order, I looked up only to find what I feared most - the fish were gone...
Until they weren't! I raced to the next spot of breaking water and quickly hooked another blue...
And another.... And so forth and so on. Don't get me wrong. I was having a blast! But even after boating 14 hard fighting, voracious eating machines, I still longed for my Albie fix like a junkie suffering from the shakes because they could only score half a dose.
As the sun rose higher, the bite died and we headed back the 3 miles to the launch picking off Sea Bass along the way. Surely, the Albies would be in on the next tide that we planned to fish in the later afternoon.
IMG_2352.jpg
They weren't...We did find more Stripers, Sea Bass and Bluefish though. More than enough to make us smile and still love life in that time and place.
One more pre-dawn launch found us right back in the same spot we had been 24 hours prior, chasing the same school of 20" +/- Bluefish, greeting covered in shiny scales and peanut bunker puree...
IMG_1895.jpg
My final tally was 6 Sea Bass, 9 Stripers 18-24" and 25 Blues in the same size range.
As we drove home happy, but exhausted, I was inwardly singing the Albie Blues, but already planning my next adventure when I return in 3 weeks. Surely, they will have to be in by then and I will be able to dance the Epoxy Jig with my good friend Albie once again!!!
To be continued...
IMG_2319.jpg
So it was that all these things came into play about 3 weeks ago when I discovered that I had somehow been granted a unrequested 3 day weekend from the retail grind. As soon as I saw the schedule, I had only one thought in mind - that of an early season Albie run to my favorite waters at the northeastern tip of Long Island.
I reached out to some buddies and planted the seed. My message was simple and clear. "I'm going for Albies. Want in?" To my surprise, both happily agreed and a road trip was born.
Neither had ever experienced the joyous (yet terrifying) squeal of screaming drag as a False Albacore heads for the distant shore, threatening to take all of your line with them. Both had listened to my repetitive attempts to put the experience into words and would nod along as they humored me while I gushed about the wonders of this fish. I knew that mere words could never do justice to the experience - much like trying to explain the wonders of becoming a first time father to someone who never had kids.
I knew that the weekend in question was right at the cusp of when these migratory monsters might arrive in the target area, but I was more than willing to gamble and make the 6+ hour drive to get my first crack at them this year. I worked the network that I had developed over recent years and got inconclusive feedback. Early reports of "They're here" evolved into "I heard someone caught one in Montauk, but I haven't seen any pictures..."
The weather and the winds were going to be perfect. Regardless of the lack of definitive intel, I was bound and determined to make the trip, whether the fish were there out not. Just the thought of a possible outside chance that I might get the possibility to maybe hook one was more than I needed to commit the time and money to a risky endeavor.
I spent hours retrofitting my roof rack on my tiny Subaru to be able to accommodate a second boat. My PA 14 takes up a tremendous amount of space so it was not a simple undertaking. I then invested a considerable amount of time rigging my spare Tarpon 120 with a rudder, rod holders, crate and anything else needed for the trip. I wasn't about the let equipment limitations (or failure) disrupt my attempts to cast to breaking fish. I felt like Ahab with laser beam focus on only one goal.
IMG_2318.jpg
When the day finally arrived to go, my excitement was palpable. We cranked the tunes and swilled large amounts of caffeine as the car pointed itself north. It already knew the way.
Our first launch was to flat calm 73 degree seas, gorgeous skies and a flooding tide. A quick stop at Wego Bait and Tackle confirmed that Albies might be somewhere but that it likely wasn't there.
IMG_2317.jpg
No matter. I was road tripping with my buddy (truly a brother from another mother. Sadly, we lost our third to a last minute "I'm out" text), the water was glorious and nothing could dull my anticipation of the opportunity. I was going to will the fish to come.
Nobody told the fish this, however. There were no signs of life beyond a few marks on the screen. Other than something almost yanking my jigging rod out of my hand and breaking me off in a moment of complacent inattention (and overly tightened drag), we were blanked for a couple of hours. I still wasn't worried. Life was good and I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else.
At one point, as we worked a rocky point, Tim got the skunk of with a fish he didn't recognize and thought to be an Albie. I disappointed him when I reveled it was "just a Porgey..." A small Sea Bass soon followed. I was still coming empty and getting out fished by my enthusiastic, but novice, buddy.
IMG_2304.jpg
I still didn't have a care in the world, however. The light was getting low and the shadows long as the sun was setting. It was the Magic Hour and almost on cue, my rod went down hard. I quickly reeled in a fat, if unhappy, 24" striper. As I looked up after releasing the fish, I discovered there were breaking fish all around us.
IMG_2305.jpg
I frantically reeled in my trolling rods and reached for my topwater rig. Over the next 20 minutes I hooked and landed 8 healthy, if not overly large, stripers between 18-24". Not the quarry I had been seeking (or the pullage I had been lusting) but more than enough to make the longish peddle back to the launch a happy one! After all, we were using the first day as the trial run for the pre-dawn launch the following morning.
After convincing my buddy that getting up at 4:40am really was needed to be in the right place when the sun come up, we climbed into the tent and crashed hard.
The alarm went off as scheduled and after a quick stop at the 24 hour 7-Eleven for coffee and a hard roll we hit the beach to follow the ebbing tide towards the eastern tip of the island. Other kayak adventurers set off with plans of the own, all seeking the same prey.
IMG_1884.jpgIMG_1880.jpg
Within 10 minutes I reported on the radio "the skunk is off. Cocktail Blue...". It was an excellent way to start the juices flowing for what I was convinced, was going to be a banner day chasing Albies. After a couple of hours (and a couple of random cocktails) we saw nothing to indicate that my visions of grandeur would be realized.
IMG_2322.jpg
That's when I saw them. BIRDS!! Working in the distance. I peddled faster than I ever had and felt that my hobie was getting on plane as I raced to them. Shockingly, they did not persist in staying just out of reach as they are wont to do when they sing their siren songs...
I reached them while the fish were still breaking. I quickly cast my favorite rod loaded with an Albie Crack colored Epoxy jig. I quickly hooked up and felt the drag start to go when the line went slack. All pretense of "Just happy to be out on the water" instantly evaporated as I reeled in a lure-less line. (insert expletive of choice here. I used them all!)
I quickly grabbed another rod and it went tight within a few cranks of the reel. Finally, I was going to enjoy the sensation I had been fantasizing about since my last hookup a year ago. While the fish fought well, it wasn't what I remembered. As I got her close to the boat, I realized why - Bluefish. I quickly boated it and it being a blue that was still too green, it spent the next 90 seconds thrashing around the deck of my boat, fouling lines and covering everything in scales and half digested anchovy puke.
After I got my world back in order, I looked up only to find what I feared most - the fish were gone...
Until they weren't! I raced to the next spot of breaking water and quickly hooked another blue...
And another.... And so forth and so on. Don't get me wrong. I was having a blast! But even after boating 14 hard fighting, voracious eating machines, I still longed for my Albie fix like a junkie suffering from the shakes because they could only score half a dose.
As the sun rose higher, the bite died and we headed back the 3 miles to the launch picking off Sea Bass along the way. Surely, the Albies would be in on the next tide that we planned to fish in the later afternoon.
IMG_2352.jpg
They weren't...We did find more Stripers, Sea Bass and Bluefish though. More than enough to make us smile and still love life in that time and place.
One more pre-dawn launch found us right back in the same spot we had been 24 hours prior, chasing the same school of 20" +/- Bluefish, greeting covered in shiny scales and peanut bunker puree...
IMG_1895.jpg
My final tally was 6 Sea Bass, 9 Stripers 18-24" and 25 Blues in the same size range.
As we drove home happy, but exhausted, I was inwardly singing the Albie Blues, but already planning my next adventure when I return in 3 weeks. Surely, they will have to be in by then and I will be able to dance the Epoxy Jig with my good friend Albie once again!!!
To be continued...
IMG_2319.jpg
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