North Beach Sandy Hook Jigging Fluke in the Surf

Keeper fluke I took for dinner. I was careful about the reel, but I could have made a mistake.

Nice drive down, already 83 degrees shortly after 11:00. Sunshine, light traffic--not bad. I seemed to arrive on Sandy Hook sooner than I expected. 

I wanted to fish North Beach. Years ago, I tried that beach, impressed with how deeply it drops off. I rode all the way up to McFly's on the Hook, and bought some beef jerky there. Then I continued on my way. 

I soon found lot J, where nothing seemed to indicate North Beach, so I looked up on my mobile device how to get there. According to AI, I had to go to Lot I, which wasn't distant. And after I got there and unloaded, studying a publicly displayed map informed me that Lot J works, too.

Either way in, it's an arduous walk. I remembered something of that from before, but I didn't remember as much as it really amounts to. Still, it might have been only half a mile. 

You're walking in sand. I had taken my sneakers off and left them behind, and you know how dry sand is, if you've ever sunk feet into it. But even so, it was firmer than some dry sand is. 

Pretty hot, too. The temp was about 80 when I left my car. Cooler than back on the mainland, with the westerly coming across the bay, but not by much. 

I haven't done well for fluke in recent times. The best of the outings amounted to two fluke caught at Barnegat Inlet while fishing with Fred Matero last September, and I think I caught one little one each time I fished Island Beach. Those IBSP outings involved enjoying the beach with my wife and black Lab Loki. We didn't go there this summer, though. I left Bedminster confident, thinking I might catch a few, and that that would be enough. But when I started casting the surf, to the right of shallows with waves breaking on them, I felt as if I'd get skunked. I would have logged the trip in my handwritten log--I do every time I fish--but I was thinking it would be awful to post here about yet another skunker, especially when, all summer, I've been catching so few fish. Brenden Kuprel and I did well on that South Branch Raritan River float trip, though.

I walked a little further to the right and laid a cast down leftward. I think the fish struck on the initial descent, but in any case, I set the hook deftly and fought a 14-incher I didn't photograph, my camera in my backpack well above the waterline. But the next fluke came pretty quickly thereafter, hitting when my retrieve was almost done. That fish might have been a a half inch better. I decided to get a quick shot of that one.

Even further to the right of those shallows--they began to appear distant--I caught one about 12 inches long. All three of these fish hit the anchor jig, not the teaser. I was using a pink half-ouncer with a pink Berkley Gulp twister on it. My teaser--a Z-Man Elaztech straight tail.

I've often admitted that I get hunches that seem to put me on fish in a mysterious way. I'm sure many fishermen experience the same, but it's not talked about. The trip neared it's end with my upper back paining me. I had fished little more than two hours, but the pain I experienced concerned me less than what pain I might feel during the long trudge back. I was also getting feelings about the water right next to the shallows. 

Rather than ignore those feelings, I positioned myself and put a cast in the area that comprised the edge. I began jigging my rig back, felt a fish take it, set hard, and fought a pretty good-sized fluke, that head shake leaving me no doubt. When I saw it in the clear surf, I knew I probably had a keeper. This one hit the Elaztech teaser. It measured 18-1/16 inches.      

Maybe a half inch better than 14 inches.

Barnegat Inlet

 

Changing Color of Wacky Worm Made a Difference

Gen Wong and smallmouth bass.

I favor the big smallmouth bass of Lake Hopatcong. That's not to say I don't favor other species, like walleye and hybrid stripers, but it's to say in part that when I think of big smallmouths today, I wish I had caught some yesterday. By big, I mean 18 inches and better. 

Largemouths? I love them, too, but I have a long standing disagreement with the Lake Survey Maps Guide. On a scale of 1 to 4, 1 being abundant and 4 pretty much being absent, Largemouths get a 1 for their showing in the lake, smallmouths only a 3. I like to think smallmouths should get a 2.

Or at least that my catches should continue to make it seem that way.

What's the odds that we just happened to cast in all the wrong places yesterday? That the fish were there among the docks and willing to hit, but we just didn't get our lures to them? After all, we hadn't been fishing more than a half hour or 45 minutes when a guy in a bassboat approaching us and fishing the same row of docks--as we went around him--boated a largemouth of at least two-and-a-half pounds. 

I fished Wacky, a crayfish color with fleck, on the light side and quite visible in the relatively clear water, in the shade or in the sun, and Brian Cronk and Gen Wong tried various Chatterbaits, jerkbaits, and plastics. 

Other fishermen have been doing well with bait. That means live herring. Jimmy Welsh at Dow's told me he's catching them, and Eddie Mackin's Rippin' Lips Guide Service told Brian yesterday they got 20 hybrids. 

I've caught bass around the docks as late into the season as a late October day when temperatures didn't even rise to 50. Getting skunked--Brian and I caught nothing, though Gen's little bass meant the boat didn't get skunked--seems strange. The lake's water temperature was 70.5 in the morning when I took it, and the air rose well into the 70's by 1:30 when we got off the lake. 

But it happens, and part of being an angler is dealing with it. It can seem ridiculous when you stand outside yourself and observe the apparent folly of your struggle. Why's fishing worth feeling any qualm? Besides, it's over and done. But fishing is no ordinary pursuit. 

Even though only fishermen know that.

Yesterday was a Sunday, however, which might at least give the illusion of an explanation. Even when my son and I fished on a Saturday or Sunday during late October and fished docks after fishing live herring into the early afternoon--and caught largemouths as big as 18 inches during more than one occasion--fishing pressure had diminished by that late in the season...or at least it wasn't as heavy as it was yesterday. I even wondered if the pressure has increased since a decade and more ago. Besides, the lake was surely hit hard on Saturday, too, so all these dock spots we fished had been hit hard the day before. 

All of them, I'm sure. We had guys in bassboats meeting us from both sides. Pressure can really shut it down, but again, we did witness that nice largemouth get caught.

We wouldn't go without having a couple nice fish on ourselves. We just wouldn't get those fish in the boat! With time running out and my upper back beginning to pain me, we fished a little cove. Gen had switched out his Wacky worm of a color that resembled my crayfish color. The water there was stained. "I don't think the bass can see it," he said of the worm he removed. 

Since I'm as slow to take advice as I am to make a change, I didn't immediately switch out my own. 

He caught that little smallmouth. I felt delighted it was that, especially with the bottom being muddy. Not five casts later, he hooked a nice bass. I watched as he played it, and I was about to get the net and pull its handle into place. 

I began routing around in my bag for the same worm Gen had taken. He hadn't brought any along. I had packs upon packs of Yum Dingers and some Shim-E-Sticks, and it frustrated me that it took some doing before I found the right one. He said something again about the need for bass to see the worm, and I pointed out they can feel it. To that, he said, "If they can see, feel, and smell it, you're three times advantaged," and I knew I could only get that worm on the hook. I couldn't argue against what Gen had just said. 

I couldn't argue against the "intel" we got from Joe Santiago, either, Gen having keyed his number by mobile device. I won't tell where the spot is, but it's very interesting and convinced me Joe knows his stuff. I've fished the lake for more than two decades, and I didn't know about the spot. There's another one I do know about Joe spoke of in some detail, which I haven't tried yet. 

Before docking at Dow's, we tried a rocky spot Brian knows about, which I also hadn't known about. It's a really nice looking spot for smallmouths, and I felt chagrinned that in all my years fishing the lake, I had never taken notice of it. But that's how it is with coming and going. When you're near the dock you don't investigate. At least I don't, but it is a form of laziness. Or just plain comfort: When you're headed out, you've got a distant goal to satisfy. When you're headed in--you're done.

Not yesterday. We fished that spot thoroughly, and Brian got a fish on. I saw his rod bent and tip jerking. The fish hit a jerkbait.  

 

Brian Cronk fishes.

Nice Smallmouths