Morning Bite on a New Beach

I've always loved the slight mania that comes with spring, something to do with the longer daylight and warming temperatures, although without many warming west winds this season it hasn't been very warm next to the water yet.  While dealing with a constant sea breeze that makes living near the water in the spring somewhat dissapointing and mania-reducing, I was still very excited to show and describe the new sand bars to Will.  For all the damage that was done, and I can't speak for that since I was in the eye of a hurricane so to speak, where the weather was calm, but from my perspective the absolutely beautiful beach structure is the reward for enduring a major storm.

A new break in the line of oceanfront homes- just behind one of the best sand bars in many years.  Just because every cloud has a silver lining, that's no reason to go around making clouds if the clouds are in your control.

I consider myself to be a scientist at times, and I am glad when my theories manifest as true.  Since writing the reading the water page of BeachfishingNJ.com during a time when there was a drought of storms, I had to remember how it is that storms change the beach and what happens in the months after one.  A big storm takes the sand out, creating a uni-bar and trough.  Then as the sand migrates back to shore, it often ends up configured in the most beautiful and useful structures for fishing and surfing.  Broad point bars, inside bars, outside bars, bars connected to the beach, some not, great edges, ledges and holes- it is really a bathymetric paradise right now.

So, I said to Will our best bet based on the preceding action (which was none really) would be to get up early, buy some fresh bunker, and chunk.  No driving around like crazy.  There's a time for that, but not when the water is chilly and above is a prevailing south wind and wet ocean fog.  I figured it'd be nice to put out some bait, while having another rod ready just in case the action happened to start.  It wasn't really bait fishing, it was double-tasking while lure fishing.  With military precision and with a goal of dominating the land, we arrived at the beach around 05:20 and set out some lines in the "right spot".

No that is not a dolphin.  It didn't take long for before Will was wrestling with a large smooth dogfish.  Just after that a giant sea robin went for my bunker tail.

The thing about not having any one else around is that you can do whatever it is that you want without anyone telling you that you can't because you are getting in thier way of them doing what they want.  Translated to mean we picked out the nicest spots and the lines were baited and went out.  The same looming fog was out there for yet another day, but the weather was mostly non-interupting.  It got pretty exciting when Will's rod got slammed, and the excitement was only somewhat tempered when we realized it was only a big dogfish.  Next up was me, bang, fish on!  Probably another dogfish- no it was a giant bunker chunk eating sea robin.  That's not exactly a one-two combo for hauling big bass in, but we continued fishing.  There were more hits and rod wiggles from the B team fish, which was at least some thrill.  I kooked it out and drove a circle hook home into a big dogfish that took drag.  I think it's a bass!  I think it's a bass!  So what if it wasn't, one of these days it will be.

Into May

Steven, Carl, and I commemorated the six month anniversary of Super Storm Sandy by having a lonely beach in the rain with a bucket of clams and hi-lo rigs.  It could have been sold to me as hey we're going to stand in the rain next to the sea and catch sand crabs with mouse traps- I'm usually not fond of clamming- but now no excuse is needed to be near the water.  And I won't even bring a sand spike, I thought, so I'll have to feel everything.  And it felt great casting out for the first time in six months.  We had some 'good water' nearby, to which I decided to try after no success in the 'not so good water'.

I'm getting them, I know it, right in there.  And it didn't take long for a hit.  Steve, hey, they're in here.  More bait, another hit, set the hook, no fish.  Another hit.  No fish.  If it wasn't for the ocean getting much needed oxygen to my brain, my response would have been anger.  On the next hit I tugged it just right and was finally on.  What the heck is this thing?  It was hardly perceptible on my 10ft conventional with 30lb mono.  No surprise as to why my shark outfit didn't move.  In came a mere 10 inch bass attached to the lower clam.  It was the cutest bass I have ever seen.  Steve dutifully photographed the little one.  I told you they are in here!  Isn't this great?  No one around and the fish are biting!  I got out two more, each one was bigger than the next, at 11 and 12 inches.  I'm proud to say I smoked Steve- kind of got him for when he out fished Donald and I three to one in the Columbus Day snapper blitz last year.

The surfing benefits from the endless spell of E winds, but the spring bunker blitzes usually don't

E wind, E wind, NE wind, chilly and damp, chilly and damp, weird wind swell, more E wind, E wind with sun, E wind with clouds, more strange wind swell, E wind with fog clouds, chilly, E wind and cool nights, E wind and clear skies, E wind today, E wind tomorrow.  Air in the 50s, the 50s, the 50s again, 50s, 50s, 50s.

As long as the E wind dominates, it's usually the swell that dominates, and the spring blitz fishing gets put on hold.  There are exceptions of course, but classic spring water is clean and green with smallish waves and a W or new SSW wind.  Things usually don't start happening in the middle of a spell of E wind and so long as the E weather continues, the water's edge should remain free of madmen casting treble hooks into frothing fish.  In a way, I don't even want that right now.  With the shore obviously still scarred, it has been nice to get acquainted with my new life near the water in a state of peace.  Surfing last night in the fog with only two other souls- and no one else for miles- is fine with me for now.