MOLDY CHUM: Good Chowdah Bobby!

Good Chowdah Bobby!

The first night of Patagonia Striper Camp we were treated to a slide show by Boston-based fly tier, photographer and writer Dave Skok. Dave is a two-time winner of the Martha's Vineyard Striped Bass & Bluefish Derby, the only fly fisherman in the sixty year history of the Derby to win the Grand Prize. The pre-camp primer written by Dave is reprinted below for your reading pleasure, click on any of the pics to enlarge.

If an uninitiated angler were to ask me to summarize fly rod striper fishing, I’m not sure I’d know where to start. The striped bass may be the single most versatile gamefish on the planet and pursuing them is an experience that, as Fox Mulder was famous for saying, “cannot be programmed, categorized or easily referenced”. You could as well expect to catch a striper within the dinge of the Gotham skyline as on a roaring, desolate Cape Cod beachfront as in a meandering tidal creek of chicken poop in the far upper reaches of the Chesapeake Bay. You can fish for stripers when it’s freezing-ass cold or goddamn hot, covered in darkness or bluebird sunny. Everything from mackerel chunks to chicken feathers will fool them. In fact, it would be easier to come up with a time, place or method you couldn’t catch a bass than to list all the ways you could! In my mind though, there are certain places and ways to pursue stripers that are superior, or at least more enjoyable and exciting, than others; and there is no better place to wrangle with Roccus than coastal Maine.

What’s up with Maine? The magazines will tell you about Montauk and Martha’s Vineyard and Monomoy and those are all great places to fish. They’re undoubtedly beautiful and wild and wealthy with stripes. They’re also all “hot spots” in the truest sense – lots of fish with the customary bevy of anglers hot on their proverbial heels. And, save the Vineyard, these spots are generally lacking much in the way of structural variety; one big bustling rocky point at The End and sand, sand and more sand in Chatham. From the New Hampshire border north to well above Portland an angler can expect to encounter nearly the entire gamut of potential striper habitats: hard-running rivers and rips, craggy cliffs and scattered boulderfields, long, pale sandy beaches and sweeping bays lined with towering spruce, lichen-covered granite and faded cedar shingles. There are very few anglers and more quality striper water than you could cover in two lifetimes. It’s a good place to be when you feel the need to peer down the shore to spy only your fishing partner, the dimpling of nervous sand eels and splashily tailing bass.

As the dog days of summer slide into autumn, striper fishing north of Cape Cod usually means three things: baby bunker blitzes, sight-casting the skinny or hunting for Momma with flies the size of your average Battenkill brook trout. Stripers crave Omega-3 fatty acids in a way the Omega Protein Corporation could only imagine! Come mid-August it’s common to see large schools of stripers (and blues, and occasional bluefin tuna) pinning nervous mossy-brown balls of immature menhaden against the shoreline or up to the top offshore, wedged by a crowd of cormorants. Wildly wheeling terns and gulls add to the carnage to the point where the whole scene is so dense it’s more likely you’ll hook a bird than a bass. Small (two to four inch) wide-bodied streamers, as well as surface offerings like a stubby Gurgler, are usually best here. Letting the fly sink beneath the baitfish can sometimes be the ticket if bites are scarce on or near the surface.

Plying the shallows on a sunny day is another game entirely. This is as close as you’ll get to bonefishing north of Biscayne Bay and a big bruiser-cruiser can be just as tough to fool as any double-digit downtown Islamorada bone. These fish may be interested in a replica of a hopelessly lost baby bunker, but they’re typically on the hunt for other, more unusual fodder. These fish are stalking the flats in search of crabs, baby flounders and sand shrimp and the ‘ole white and chartreuse Clouser Minnow approach usually doesn’t cut it. A stealthy approach, a long lead with a drab, nondescript “I could be a delicious crab or flounder or shrimp” pattern and the ability to read and feed the fish will result in a tight line. This isn’t a numbers game, and for me this could be the pinnacle of the striper fishing experience, with every fish caught sight-casting worth ten taken on the blind.

Sometimes though, the sun just don’t shine, and those days are perfect for swinging a big streamer or lobster pattern through the stones. Big cow bass aren’t quite as interested in chasing mini-bunkers around as their schoolie brethren and will hang tight to structure, looking for a big ticket meal. Which structure is better on any given day is entirely subjective, but river mouths, boulders, deep rips and the pluming whitewater found at the base of steep cliffs are good places to look. Throwing a fast-sinking line with an eight to twelve-inch mackerel, pollack or lobster imitation can yield a bass best measured in pounds rather than inches. Cliff fishing holds a special place in my heart as it offers a dual mountain climbing / fly fishing experience that is not for those with a faint heart or wobbly knees. Good footwear (preferably Korkers) and a light load make this style of fishing truly enjoyable, constantly interesting and oftentimes highly exciting. Selecting a secure perch for casting and an easy spot to safely negotiate the sometimes awkward act of landing a fish are paramount to successful cliff fishing. Always keep one hand free when climbing and never, ever turn your back to the surf.

This isn’t the Great Barrier Reef with its zillion-and-a-half available species yet the diversity of structure, landscapes and styles of striper fishing make the Gulf of Maine anything but boring. Take a minute to slow down, suck in a big gulp of crisp fall air and admire the handsome wild striper, mercilessly mean bluefish or torpedoing tuna you’re releasing, all outlined by the magnificent greens and blues of the Pine Tree State.

October 06, 2006 in Fly Fishing Destinations | Permalink