n New England's
,'m@ffi@m@ffi Big Bass On The StriPer Moon
.ii*.$,r; fu-".gry+*1s1t#;',.
Fall beach fishing is like a good short story you cant put down. There is the rising action, the climax, the falling action and the end. Some times it's fast, other times it's measured,but at all times it's a page-turner. \X/hen fall actually starts depends on who you ask. My calendar tells me that fall begins on thâ‚Ź Autumnal Equinox, the 22d of September.The significance ofthat day is that the day and the night photoperiods are nearly identical in length. Yet for most, Labor Day triggers the beginning of fall. During this pivotal weekend, summer beach shacks get boarded up, Tevas get traded in for textbooks, and vacationersreluctantly return home. Seasonalhotels and restaurants respond by shortening their work week and their hours. It gets progressively harder ro get a cup ofcoffee, but I take comfort in my quiet town without bumper-ro-bumpertraffic. I am a fishermanand for me fall beeins wirJrthe Striper Moon, rhe first full mion in September.Itt the first major push of the striped bassmigration. Some frontrunners trickle south sooner,but the first big body of bass moves on the Striper Moon. Some yearsit is early, some years it is late. Regardless,one thing is for sure: the biggestshore-caughtbassof the year are landed around the Strioer Moon. I used ro think that there were three phasesof fall: early, middle and late. I used to think that the early ohase was warm, the middle phasewas ctoler, and the late phasewas the coldest.I no longer think that way becausethere are too many nuancesto keeo track of. On some days the winds blow \7S\( '\finds from that direction are summer winds, warm and welcoming, a little Southern hospitality coming from far below the Mason-Dixon line. The cloud ceiling is high, and the eggshell-blueslry is dappled with puffy, white conon balls. Sometimeswhen the winds shift around you ll seemaret tails splashedaround the blue like a painter gone mad. On other days the wind blows \fN\?l \X/inds from that direction bring the Canadian chill. Theyre the winds thar move ducks and geeseand woodcock down the Eastern Flyway, and they are rhe culprits fhat changethe color of the seafrom green ro gray.On a few days, northerly winds make swellsand flotsam clutters the beaches.I neverknowwhat the daywill hold until it is upon me and I look out my window. Somewherein the middle of the everchanging winds is an oasisknown many centuries ago in Europe as Saint Luke's Summer.In our modern daywe call it Indian Summer, the time in October when the fali feelslike summer. History alleges that this two-week warm soell was the
time when American Indians harvested the bulk of their crops. The first person to coin the phrase Indian Summer was a Frenchman writing in 1778 in rural New York named St. John de Crevecoeur.As I walk around the beachesonce inhabited by\Wampanoags,I wonderwhen the tribe marked the beginning of fall? Fishing a beach in the fall is as much a part offishing as catching a fish itself, I like how hazy,hot and humid becomes clear, cool and dry. I like the sand under my feet. I like the solaceof the beach,my only companion being the birds. And I watch them; big flocks spread out for what seemsiike miles. I watch rhe terns repeatedly dive on small bait, the gulls shriek and pick up scraps,and the gannets plunge-dive 50 feet from the slqyto grab a herring. rVhen I learned that gannets have air sacksto cushion them from the impact with the surfaceI lost respectfor them. I regained it when I considered that they swim with their long wings to catch a meal. Theyie tough birds, even with air baes. Fall on a=beachmeanslots of bait that stagesand gatherson the various moons. Silversides,sandeels,glassminnows, her, ring, peanut bunker, anchovies, mullet and butterfish pack up their bags and start heading south for the winter. Their cycle predicts good fishing. I follow the advice of anglers who came before me: "Fish the points on full and new moons, and fish coveson the quarters."Bait stages in coves during half moons and moves on full moons. Bassand blues lie in wait to corral them against structure, on the surface,or whereverthey can. Everyliving thing needsto storefat for the wintet and the fish are no exceprion. Plus they need some gasfor the long swim home. A beachservesas a corridor for mieratory fish, and so I love fishing the bars"the best.My favorites arethe offshore barsthat run parallel to the beach. Offshore bars are not conneded to land, and havehard-running currents blowing through on both sides. They are like small islands, with fish on both sides.SometimesI find that the stretch benveenthe beachand the bar is chock-a-block full of bass.Other times the fish areon the outside edgeofthe bar. Regardless,there is something wild about standing on a bar with water all around and the promiseof big schoolsofstripersat my feet. On a calm day I'll paddle a kayak out to the bar and get out and wade. On a rough day I'11pass.Swimming back to shorein the fall isnt too appealing. I like onshore bars, but they are more civilized. Onshore bars connecr with the beachandwading out is easy.They rypicalIy run at an angle basedon the dominant current. I start to work my way out to the point an hour or two before low tide and
keep going as far as I can. The fish may be up current from the bar, they may be at the point of the bar, or they may be down current from it. I neverknow until I fish them. Once the tide turns, I'11work my way back toward shore.I'm comforted knowine that Land Ho isn'tFaraway,but I alwayst,"y ou, longer than I should . . . just because. Bull-nose bars are rounded and look like an upside-down letter U. I find them easyto fish, as they rypically dont go very far out into the ocean. Sometimes the fish hold in the lee, other times they feast on the windward side. I smile when I seethe trough where the rounded edge of the bar connectswith the beach.I alwaysmake my first cast onto the bar and let my fly sweep over the edgeinto the hole. I catch enough
fish there to make it worth a cast, but I really like the sweepof the fly over the sand and into the deeoer water. And when the fish are tight to the beach, I dont have to cast much further than my feet. I find it incredibly frustrating when a largeschool offish is a few hundred yards offshore. I feel stranded on my beach. I lose my mind when they are ten feet beyond my furthest cast. On those days rhe sparklingwater or having the beachto myself isn't much of a consolation prize. All that is left for me to do is wait for the wind to blow the fish closeror to look for washedup lobsterbuoys and nail them to a tree in my front yard. \fith the bad comesthe good, and some anglersare fortunate enough to encounter
pelagic specieson the beach in the fall. Anl.where the Gulf Stream pushescloseto shore,fast fish like bonito, falsealbacore, bluefish and Spanish mackerei appear. \When I seea school ofblues or albiesracing down a beachsprayingsilversidesall around I feel like I'm in Vegas.And when I land a fish with my feet planted on terra firma, I feei like I hit the jackpot. An oddity happened on a Massachusetts South Shore beach a few years ago when the water was warm and there were lots ofschool bluefin tuna around. A fellow was castingwhen he got a tug on his 1ine.A fish made a long-as in 300 yard or more-run down the beach,past rocks, kelo and musselbedsbeforeit tired. After t h e h s h t h e r o l l e dr h e h s h o n i r s s i d e ,
o o
:o o o a c
o a)
o
moved it into a cresringwave and walked backward up the beach. As he surfed it onto the sand, he saw a tuna laying at his feet.I'd havehoped it were an B0-pound basson steroids. In the fall it's easyto get caught up in the acdon as the fishing heats up. And then suddenly, like the good short story it ends.The ice that formed overnieht on my boatdeck no longermeltsin mlnutes after the sun clearsthe horizon, and the fish have moved on.
ToNr Kssn is a frequent contributor to FFA and lives in Massachusetts,where he enjoys chasing pelagicson VegasBeach.