Here is a rather long post about an experience I had early last fall fishing the New Jersey coast in Monmouth County. I wrote it as a kind of winter therapy. It won't win any writing awards, but perhaps you can get a small taste of what flyfishing the salt is all about.
Dennis feel free to move or remove this if you feel its too lengthy.
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Driving east along Rt. 36, the sun was shining in my eyes so on go the glasses. Hmmm, took a little too long getting out this morning, but I heard good things were happening down at the surf. So ok, Fall is when the blitzing starts, right? Well, up to this point I had never seen a blitz in the surf. Not really. I’d seen folks reeling in little cocktail bluefish one after another right at sunset. I’d been out in a boat in a mile wide school of blues running 3 to 5 pounds, reeling them in for hours until my arms ached. But never with stripers. Stripers!
Apparently everyone except for me knows about how stripers declined for years and have been making a steady comeback since the various regulations have been in place. But being a Johnny-come-lately to the fishing scene, and fly fishing in the salt specifically, this is good news. There are so many stripers around nowadays, that virtually anybody can catch one. So they say. Well, admittedly I had caught a couple, but not “on my own”. I caught my first (and to date largest) striper with my brother-in-law on his boat live-lining bait. That fish was the largest fish I had ever caught to that point in my life… coming in at around 15 lbs. 35”. But when you’re fishing on a boat, using bait supplied by the boat, using tackle supplied by the boat, it hardly qualifies as your “own”, ya know? Anyhow, anybody can catch a striper nowadays. So they say.
So my coworker Greg harangues me about getting into saltwater fly fishing. He knows I fish for trout, but I’ve “got” to try fly fishing in the salt, he says. Well, my trout season was doing well, however now we were getting into the days when trout should pretty much be left alone around here. You know 80F+ weather, warmer water temps. Ok, I go with him to gear up, getting a starter rig that still leaves $300 or so in the fly shop… actually not bad for a soup to nuts setup… a few casting lessons, and then an on water lesson with him. A few clunks in the head with jiggies and clousers, some corrected casting practice, some experience with intermediate sink lines and how to roll-cast them to the surface before going into the full back cast, and I’m officially launched into the world of fly fishing in saltwater.
But where are the fish? Greg seems to disappear into his own busy schedule, but I’ve got this gear and I want to get a fish. Hmmm what to do? I purchased Ed Mitchell’s book “Fly Rodding The Coast” and he certainly gives some great instruction. But what about locally, where do I go? I find another book “Fishing the New Jersey Coast” by local guide Jim Freda and finally get some good tips. So I start hitting spots in the “bayshore” area of Monmouth county. These are older communities along the Northern Monmouth County coast with various beaches allowing access to the waters. I hit various estuaries throughout the few weeks remaining in the summer. But I never did find any fish. Oh well, I'm thinking I probably have to get a guide and get out on a boat to find out how to do this...
But going down to the ocean beaches Sunday evenings with the wife and daughter, I brought along my gear just in case one of those alleged blitzes happened. Nothing doing. However there was one monumental event that changed how I view the ocean once and for all. It was now the last Sunday in August and I had read about these runs of baitfish called Mullet. Around these parts the Mullet are usually about the sizes of small ears of corn and are sometimes called corn cob mullet (duh!) or a bit smaller…the size of large fingers and hence called, uh, finger mullet. While sitting on the sand, scanning the water near a very small outcropping of rocks we call a jetty (technically a groin, but in its present state a small shadow of the long jetties extending out from Monmouth county’s shoreline after the Army Corp of Engineer’s last attempt at solving the erosion problems) there was a small set of riffles, or nervous water, that would move, grow and shrink. Definitely worth investigating, so the gear gets assembled and down to the water I go. Confident? No way. But tying on a 3 inch blue and white deceiver I had tied up, casting (if what I do is to be called casting) and strip retrieves. Repeat. Now mind you, up to this point I have not hooked a fish from the surf in over 20 years. Back then it was flounder using squid. Here I am with my fancy fly rod (humble entry level stuff though it may be) and my daughter and wife thinking that I’m just in phase X of my mid-life crisis.
Cast, strip, strip, strip. Cast, strip, strip, strip. Not sure if anything will happen, but by golly, when I cast, I see these mullet dancing out of the way of my fly line. The bait is here all right. Cast, strip, strip, I watch my line tumble to shore with each incoming wave. I try to time (as I’ve been told) my casts to reach the sloughs in between each wave, but the waves eventually catch up anyway. Strip, strip, strip, my line is in the shallows, my fly maybe 20 feet away when I see a body, then tail flip over my fly and TUG! Aghhhh, fish on! The ensuing battle lasted for about 10 minutes, with line being stripped out, retrieved, and a fish some 25” or longer rolling in 4” of water, ready to come to hand when, with one more powerful roll of the body and flip of the tail, it was off, free, and gone! Ah, but the feeling of a fish on in the surf…nothing like it.
It was actually quite a while before I would hook another striper with my fly rod. In fact it was almost an entire year after that first hookup before I had a striper to hand. Oh, not that I didn't try. I managed to hook into something very solid the next week, but the 15lb tippet broke. I also managed a couple of small blues, which were exciting enough, even on a 9 wt. fly rod! But not another striper. Then winter rolled in and out and the pursuit of trout and a very hectic work life picked up the slack.
So, here I am a year later on a crisp September morning,
heading to check out the water again.
Are the mullet still around? The do come in at around this time, but I was not sure as I hadn’t read anything on the local boards, and hadn’t seen anything like that nervous water from that Sunday evening. It was a morning with a truly glorious sunrise. The sunrises on the East Coast of the United States are breathtaking. Even if you miss those first few rays, the sun glistening and sparkling on every ripple, every roll of the water is just gorgeous. Just don’t look behind you as Long Branch still has a way to go in its “redevelopment”. I still expect this to be like other mornings, where I go down to my favorite drive-up spot, take a look at nothing happening, rig up, cast for a bit, and head to work. All in all not a bad way to get the day started.
When I pull up, I see anglers' vehicles parked around, rig up, head down to the same rocks as that time in late August a year before. This time anglers are down beach, clearly agitated about something. Birds are working, fish are breaking. I go up beach to a spot by myself and tie on a peanut bunker pattern. The surf was very calm as the wind was strong out of the west for a few days already. As I’m looking at the gentle waves rolling up, the sun glinting off the surface ripples and through the curling water, I saw the most amazing thing of my angling life. Clouds of fish about the size of my thumb rolled up and down, in and out with each wave. Openings between these clouds were filled by fish the size of my leg, silhouetted against the deep azure green of the ocean water within the wave with beams of sunlight streaming all around.
I began casting, each cast laid out on the water, stripped in, until the pile of coils filled my stripping basket, and I cast and repeat. I didn’t notice when they arrived, but after a while I realized I was surrounded by other anglers, all with spinning gear. Thankfully they were giving me just enough room to cast. The wind and waves also cooperated to allow all to reach the fish hitting the surf up and down this stretch of beach. I also realized that no one around me was catching anything. An acquaintance of mine, who was already fishing when I arrived, was using storm shads, others were using poppers, some were using small swimmers, others big swimmers, and I with my streamers.
Waves of peanut bunker up and down, fish splashing out in the surf, huge bodies coming in and out with the waves. It was piscatorial bedlam. I then heard an angler to my right yell ‘Fish on!” and looked and saw one gentleman (and so he acted) with a fish on, noticing his red and white swimming lure, he released that fish, having already landed one for his limit. He was the only one who caught anything around me. I saw other anglers reeling in red and white poppers as fast as they could. Everytime they popped and reeled, a fish would break the surface right behind their popper. Hmmm, perhaps they should slow down? (answer – yes… noted that for another day).
I changed my fly to a wider profile fly with a nice red tag, and full doll-eyes… sort of a mullet pattern. Next cast: fish on! The fight, though exciting, was brief. It turned out it was a thin 20”-er, also known as a ‘Rat’. But hey, first striper to hand on a fly rod! I held it up to my friend and said ‘This is unbelievable!’ and meant it! I quickly released the little guy (or gal?) and cast some more, but noticed the bait fish moving off shore and less visible in the surf. The sun was rising, and this was still early in the fall.
The fish decided to move on a short time after that. It was the first of many experiences to be had this particular fall at the Jersey shore. My friend reminded me that this was only a “mini-blitz”, and he was right. But all in all this was the most amazing thing I had seen or experienced while angling. Perhaps I had a similar feeling the first and only time I was fishing Penns Creek near Coburn, PA and browns started rising all around me. That was great but I had already experienced rising trout for years. This was new and though I didn’t land a monster, these fish have a beauty and strength in them no matter their size.
I went on into work that day, late, but no matter. I was able to just stay longer and finish up what needed to get done. But I did have a glow surrounding me for the next few days.
I was blitzed!
-- Rob
Dennis feel free to move or remove this if you feel its too lengthy.
---
Driving east along Rt. 36, the sun was shining in my eyes so on go the glasses. Hmmm, took a little too long getting out this morning, but I heard good things were happening down at the surf. So ok, Fall is when the blitzing starts, right? Well, up to this point I had never seen a blitz in the surf. Not really. I’d seen folks reeling in little cocktail bluefish one after another right at sunset. I’d been out in a boat in a mile wide school of blues running 3 to 5 pounds, reeling them in for hours until my arms ached. But never with stripers. Stripers!
Apparently everyone except for me knows about how stripers declined for years and have been making a steady comeback since the various regulations have been in place. But being a Johnny-come-lately to the fishing scene, and fly fishing in the salt specifically, this is good news. There are so many stripers around nowadays, that virtually anybody can catch one. So they say. Well, admittedly I had caught a couple, but not “on my own”. I caught my first (and to date largest) striper with my brother-in-law on his boat live-lining bait. That fish was the largest fish I had ever caught to that point in my life… coming in at around 15 lbs. 35”. But when you’re fishing on a boat, using bait supplied by the boat, using tackle supplied by the boat, it hardly qualifies as your “own”, ya know? Anyhow, anybody can catch a striper nowadays. So they say.
So my coworker Greg harangues me about getting into saltwater fly fishing. He knows I fish for trout, but I’ve “got” to try fly fishing in the salt, he says. Well, my trout season was doing well, however now we were getting into the days when trout should pretty much be left alone around here. You know 80F+ weather, warmer water temps. Ok, I go with him to gear up, getting a starter rig that still leaves $300 or so in the fly shop… actually not bad for a soup to nuts setup… a few casting lessons, and then an on water lesson with him. A few clunks in the head with jiggies and clousers, some corrected casting practice, some experience with intermediate sink lines and how to roll-cast them to the surface before going into the full back cast, and I’m officially launched into the world of fly fishing in saltwater.
But where are the fish? Greg seems to disappear into his own busy schedule, but I’ve got this gear and I want to get a fish. Hmmm what to do? I purchased Ed Mitchell’s book “Fly Rodding The Coast” and he certainly gives some great instruction. But what about locally, where do I go? I find another book “Fishing the New Jersey Coast” by local guide Jim Freda and finally get some good tips. So I start hitting spots in the “bayshore” area of Monmouth county. These are older communities along the Northern Monmouth County coast with various beaches allowing access to the waters. I hit various estuaries throughout the few weeks remaining in the summer. But I never did find any fish. Oh well, I'm thinking I probably have to get a guide and get out on a boat to find out how to do this...
But going down to the ocean beaches Sunday evenings with the wife and daughter, I brought along my gear just in case one of those alleged blitzes happened. Nothing doing. However there was one monumental event that changed how I view the ocean once and for all. It was now the last Sunday in August and I had read about these runs of baitfish called Mullet. Around these parts the Mullet are usually about the sizes of small ears of corn and are sometimes called corn cob mullet (duh!) or a bit smaller…the size of large fingers and hence called, uh, finger mullet. While sitting on the sand, scanning the water near a very small outcropping of rocks we call a jetty (technically a groin, but in its present state a small shadow of the long jetties extending out from Monmouth county’s shoreline after the Army Corp of Engineer’s last attempt at solving the erosion problems) there was a small set of riffles, or nervous water, that would move, grow and shrink. Definitely worth investigating, so the gear gets assembled and down to the water I go. Confident? No way. But tying on a 3 inch blue and white deceiver I had tied up, casting (if what I do is to be called casting) and strip retrieves. Repeat. Now mind you, up to this point I have not hooked a fish from the surf in over 20 years. Back then it was flounder using squid. Here I am with my fancy fly rod (humble entry level stuff though it may be) and my daughter and wife thinking that I’m just in phase X of my mid-life crisis.
Cast, strip, strip, strip. Cast, strip, strip, strip. Not sure if anything will happen, but by golly, when I cast, I see these mullet dancing out of the way of my fly line. The bait is here all right. Cast, strip, strip, I watch my line tumble to shore with each incoming wave. I try to time (as I’ve been told) my casts to reach the sloughs in between each wave, but the waves eventually catch up anyway. Strip, strip, strip, my line is in the shallows, my fly maybe 20 feet away when I see a body, then tail flip over my fly and TUG! Aghhhh, fish on! The ensuing battle lasted for about 10 minutes, with line being stripped out, retrieved, and a fish some 25” or longer rolling in 4” of water, ready to come to hand when, with one more powerful roll of the body and flip of the tail, it was off, free, and gone! Ah, but the feeling of a fish on in the surf…nothing like it.
It was actually quite a while before I would hook another striper with my fly rod. In fact it was almost an entire year after that first hookup before I had a striper to hand. Oh, not that I didn't try. I managed to hook into something very solid the next week, but the 15lb tippet broke. I also managed a couple of small blues, which were exciting enough, even on a 9 wt. fly rod! But not another striper. Then winter rolled in and out and the pursuit of trout and a very hectic work life picked up the slack.
So, here I am a year later on a crisp September morning,
heading to check out the water again.
Are the mullet still around? The do come in at around this time, but I was not sure as I hadn’t read anything on the local boards, and hadn’t seen anything like that nervous water from that Sunday evening. It was a morning with a truly glorious sunrise. The sunrises on the East Coast of the United States are breathtaking. Even if you miss those first few rays, the sun glistening and sparkling on every ripple, every roll of the water is just gorgeous. Just don’t look behind you as Long Branch still has a way to go in its “redevelopment”. I still expect this to be like other mornings, where I go down to my favorite drive-up spot, take a look at nothing happening, rig up, cast for a bit, and head to work. All in all not a bad way to get the day started.
When I pull up, I see anglers' vehicles parked around, rig up, head down to the same rocks as that time in late August a year before. This time anglers are down beach, clearly agitated about something. Birds are working, fish are breaking. I go up beach to a spot by myself and tie on a peanut bunker pattern. The surf was very calm as the wind was strong out of the west for a few days already. As I’m looking at the gentle waves rolling up, the sun glinting off the surface ripples and through the curling water, I saw the most amazing thing of my angling life. Clouds of fish about the size of my thumb rolled up and down, in and out with each wave. Openings between these clouds were filled by fish the size of my leg, silhouetted against the deep azure green of the ocean water within the wave with beams of sunlight streaming all around.
I began casting, each cast laid out on the water, stripped in, until the pile of coils filled my stripping basket, and I cast and repeat. I didn’t notice when they arrived, but after a while I realized I was surrounded by other anglers, all with spinning gear. Thankfully they were giving me just enough room to cast. The wind and waves also cooperated to allow all to reach the fish hitting the surf up and down this stretch of beach. I also realized that no one around me was catching anything. An acquaintance of mine, who was already fishing when I arrived, was using storm shads, others were using poppers, some were using small swimmers, others big swimmers, and I with my streamers.
Waves of peanut bunker up and down, fish splashing out in the surf, huge bodies coming in and out with the waves. It was piscatorial bedlam. I then heard an angler to my right yell ‘Fish on!” and looked and saw one gentleman (and so he acted) with a fish on, noticing his red and white swimming lure, he released that fish, having already landed one for his limit. He was the only one who caught anything around me. I saw other anglers reeling in red and white poppers as fast as they could. Everytime they popped and reeled, a fish would break the surface right behind their popper. Hmmm, perhaps they should slow down? (answer – yes… noted that for another day).
I changed my fly to a wider profile fly with a nice red tag, and full doll-eyes… sort of a mullet pattern. Next cast: fish on! The fight, though exciting, was brief. It turned out it was a thin 20”-er, also known as a ‘Rat’. But hey, first striper to hand on a fly rod! I held it up to my friend and said ‘This is unbelievable!’ and meant it! I quickly released the little guy (or gal?) and cast some more, but noticed the bait fish moving off shore and less visible in the surf. The sun was rising, and this was still early in the fall.
The fish decided to move on a short time after that. It was the first of many experiences to be had this particular fall at the Jersey shore. My friend reminded me that this was only a “mini-blitz”, and he was right. But all in all this was the most amazing thing I had seen or experienced while angling. Perhaps I had a similar feeling the first and only time I was fishing Penns Creek near Coburn, PA and browns started rising all around me. That was great but I had already experienced rising trout for years. This was new and though I didn’t land a monster, these fish have a beauty and strength in them no matter their size.
I went on into work that day, late, but no matter. I was able to just stay longer and finish up what needed to get done. But I did have a glow surrounding me for the next few days.
I was blitzed!
-- Rob
Guaranteed if they don't put their time in, and by that I mean fishing the surf every day for years, they won't catch anything. Unless they throw a gob of clam 200yds out, then they can have all the stripers they want... I really need to go fishing..... 
