Here we are, in the teeth of a new season, fish all over the place, including the end of my line. And I haven't written a single fishing report. Not a word. O guess my excuse is, put simply, I've been busy. But that's not really an excuse. Stripers have been all over the back bays. Some nights better than others. It's been easy some nights, and a mystery waiting to be solved others. Some nights they'd hit anything you wanted to throw at them. Other nights it had to be a certain color, specific size, and a perfect cast and retrieve. But, that's what keeps up coming back again and again. It wouldn't be much fun if it was easy. I hit the surf a few times, but haven't figured it out just yet. Haven't even had a bump. You'd think a stray doggie or skate, but nothing. We'll, unless you count the bait stealing crabs. There have been stripers caught, along with blues, and drum. Just not when I've been around. I really need to get back in the game. I did have one charter trip already. A really nice grandpop, his son, and the grandson. We worked the back bays for tog, flounder, weakies, and anything else we hoped might bite. It was just one of those days. We had a screaming current and dirty water. Tog wouldn't bite around any structure. We did manage to land and release a nice flounder. Missed a few others. We had all sorts of marks on the sounder, but couldn't get them to bite. Despite the poor overall bite, we had a nice time. On a recent trip out to the wrecks and reefs we got into some solid tog action. Skel came along for comic relief and ball busting. Our first stop was very productive. Skel pulled up a nice keeper on the very first drop. The action continued from there, hot and heavy with many, many tog landed. Then, around noon, the tide slowed and the bite died. We moved around the structures, but it was no Bueno. We moved to a wreck, but there were no willing participant's. We moved to another big chunk, found fish, but they were all small bait stealers. So, we ran back to where we began. Found more fish, and better sized. We ended up with seven nice keepers, but couldn't land the final two man limit fish. As luck would have it, on my very last drop, with the last piece of crab, I hooked a really nice tog. It pulled like a dump truck back into the structure and broke me off. So, it remained seven. On our way in we tried to find a striper, as there were reports of solid action off the beaches. We found bunker schools, but no bass. But no complaints. We had a great time catching, missing, and tossing back tog all day. As far as my excuses, you know, my lack of reports. I've been busy putting our veterans fishing trip together, finding donors, filing to become a corporation and nonprofit. I've also been planning on my impending retirement. It's just time. I'll miss teaching, but I will love fishing full time. Bittersweet, but mostly sweet. And the wife is onboard, so it's all good. Then there was my father's passing. That was, and continues to be a tough one. I miss our conversations. The fishing banter, comparing of lures and plugs we both made, bickering about rigs, baits, and whatever. His sense of humor. His support in the things I do. Still working through it. Then, to add to the fun, a good friend d passed away the other day. Another loss to the fishing community. Big John, of Big John's bait and Tackle passed on. He was always fun to talk to. He always laughed and made light of his situation, regardless of how dark it might have been. That's a rare quality these days. One that I will miss. So, there you have it. My excuses for slacking off. I promise to do better as we move along I to the season. And the season is shaping up to be a pretty good one. Stripers, tog, flounder, blues, weakies, and drum so far. Lots of good fishing to be had. You just gotta get out after them. Tight Lines!

2023 went out fairly quietly. It was a decent year overall, well, as far as fishing. But that is for another post. Today is about the kick off to 2024. I had three good, hard fishing, friends lined up for a long day of chasing tog and stripers. Unfortunately, one of those friends got a bad case of Montezuma's revenge, the other had to pick up their kid and his bride to be after they parties a bit too hard last night. He was rewarded with a truck full of vomit. Suffice to say, both bailed out. So, I met Jesse at the boat ramp, we loaded up, and ran out of the inlet to see what the new year might bring. We ran to a lump that often holds stripers this time of the year. There were a few boats trolling around, and a few scattered gannetts cruising at altitude. There were a few scattered marks on the sounder that could have been stripers, but they were few and far between. So, we cruised on. We ran south in hopes of running into a school of stripers, or a big bird play, or just some other boats hooking up. Nothing to be found. Seemed everyone was doing what we were doing...searching. After about an hour we cruised out and found a little sneaky wreck, spot locked over it, and tried for tog. We got a few, lost a few, but it wasn't great. We ran back north and locked up on another wreck. Loads more action, but all short tog. We didn't land any keepers, but we're fairly certain we lost a few. Jesse was the high hook while togging. I started off with jigs to no avail. I kept losing fish, so I switched up to a rig. I started catching at least. Jesse continued his assault on the tog below. After about an hour of steady hits and misses, the tog shut down. We moved over different parts of the wreck, but it was a tough pick. Around this time I received a text that a friend of a friend had found some stripers while trolling just inside of where we were. We picked up and ran to see if we could find something worthwhile. Nope. With stripers not making an appearance we decided to go find more tog. And we did. We locked up over the structure and dropped down chunks of green and white legger crabs, which were almost immediately attacked and devoured by voracious tog below. Jesse hammered three nice, but short, tog right off the jump. I finally got my fish mojo going and started to catch as well. I was able to put the only two keepers of the day into the live well on back to back drops. I don't always catch a lot, but I catch keepers. Remember that Jesse! Jesse decided to scan the surroundings with the binoculars. He caught a glimps of white flashes inside of our position. Possibly gannetts diving on bait? We picked up and moved well inside, and sure enough, there were gannetts. And seagulls. And they were pounding the water! Death from above, and we hoped below. We dropped some jigs down and found stripers. Suddenly the sounder was lit up with hundreds of stripers, school after school swimming through chasing bunker. It was awesome! Jesse switched up to a flutter spoon. He came tight quick. After he landed a few, and my jig remained quiet, I switched up. Stripers like flutter spoons. We started to notice fish on top too. Stripers were chasing bunker right on the surface. I put on a Mag Darter, Jesse grabbed an SP Minnow. We both hooked up quickly. We had absolute striper madness for about two hours. I landed 21, Jesse landed 17. We each lost as many that somehow, unimaginably, spit the hooks. We hooked up from the surface to the bottom, and everywhere in between. It was an absolute blast! We finally called it quits as the sun began to dip below the horizon. It was really hard to leave the melee. But running g the back in the dark, with no spotlight, isn't much fun. And we were getting close to low tide which just adds to the fun. All in all, it was a killer way to ring in the new year. Loads of fun, ball busting, and laughs, with a good friend. 2024 is off to a great start. Hopefully the rest of the year goes this well...

Every now and again everything comes together just the way you hoped. Today was one of those days. Jesse and I ran out into the ocean in hopes of finding a striped bass, and if not, some tog. We came out of the inlet and found a small fleet of boats aimlessly circling, dragging Mojo's or spoons, or whatever. We cruised past and kept an eyeball on them for signs of fish. Not a single bent rod. So, we pressed on. Around this time my phone began to buzz. I received texts from my friends Justin and George. Both were telling me there were some stripers being caught further South. So, we headed South. We looked for signs of life along the way; a splash, boil, birds, whales, anything. There were sea ducks everywhere. Hundreds of them. They'd erupt from the water splashing as they took flight. Every flock caught our eye. Then we saw the fleet. There were boats scattered all around, close to shore, and further out. Some were trolling, others aimlessly casting. Every now and again we'd see a small fish come over a gunnel. We poked around still searching for a sign. Then we got one. A huge bird play in tight to the beach. There was one boat already there, another raced in, and we were closing in fast. We deployed jigs to the bottom and snapped them up in hopes they would be intercepted by a cruising striper. We got our wish. I hooked up first, Jesse was close behind. We each landed 32-33" stripers. We missed a few, or had the hooks spit, and landed a few more each. We found if we hung out and let everyone else leave and chase the birds we would have school after school of stripers swim beneath us. It played well in our favor throughout the day. Once the bite petered out we cruised around looking for the next bite. It didn't take long. A cloud of birds formed a short distance away with stripers erupting from the water below. Birds and stripers were devastating bunker schools. We glided up to the melee, I put on a bone Mag Darter, Jesse switched to a silver flutter spoon. Both worked. I hooked a good sized striper on the plug and fought it to the boat. Jesse had just released a nice one. He reached over to grab the plug, which I warned him not to do. Not being one to listen, Mr. Helpful was rewarded with a 4/0 treble buried in his finger. Now I had to carefully grab the thrashing striper, avoid the plug, and keep Jesse's finger from becoming a murder scene, while lifting everyone over the gunnel. Once in the boat, I had to keep the bass from thrashing and further damaging Jesse's impaled finger. I managed to grab the pliers and took hold of the hook. Jesse was able to pull his finger free of the hook. A bit sore, but it still worked. Of course I didn't get a picture of the event. Missed opportunity. We repeated the run and gun rampage throughout the day. The majority of the stripers we landed were 32" to 47". Jesse did manage to catch a 31" keeper. Luck played a role in our second keeper of the day. As we were jigging up another school of stripers, we had a striper splash next to the boat as it drifted past. It just lazily flopped on the surface. We grabbed the net and motored up next to it and scooped it. It was fresh and healthy, but must've been exhausted from a battle and unable to swim. Regardless, he became our second keeper of the day. After we scooped the bass we noticed a huge boil on the surface. We ran up and found a school of bunker being assaulted by stripers from below. We tossed plugs and picked off a few more. Around this time the wind was begining to pick up and white caps were becoming more prominent. With our arms starting to feel the brunt of our many battles today ( we landed well over thirty stripers), we decided to leave the action to go find some tog. We ran to the reef to try some rubble. Jesse picked a short. I fought with the trolling motor. Then we ran to a wreck. Again, a few hits, more motor issues. We ran to another wreck, and it was more of the same. Every time, I would set up over the tasty structure, hit spot lock, the boat would drift off. It was definitely chopper and winder than it had been, but the motor should have held without issue. After resetting ten times I called it quits. We'll just have to come out and chase the tog another day. The early striper action was epic, and more than made up for the trolling motor misery. With luck, the striper migration will continue through Christmas break and we'll get another shot at them before they cruise down South for the winter. Fingers crossed... Tight Lines!

It was one of those days. I tried to find someone to go fishing with me, but everyone had other plans, or had an ailment. Looking at the weather I started to figure fishing was probably not the greatest idea anyway. It was pretty dismal out. And besides, there were some good college football games scheduled throughout the day. I took Bubbalouie out front to check the mail. He kept looking over at the truck. So, we took a ride over to Avalon to check the inlet. The ocean looked quite inviting. There was a bit of fog, but entirely manageable. So, I hit the tackle shop and snagged a few dozen green crabs. Then ran home to prep the boat and gear. While wolfing down some left overs, I tried another fishing buddy. As luck would have it, George was available and wanted to go. So, I was no longer a solo trip. I met George at the ramp and we headed off for the reef. The fog that had been rather wispy earlier was getting thicker. We poked our way through the ICW and made it into the inlet and made our way to the reef. We looked for signs of stripers along the way, but the fog was a major impediment. We spot locked over some rubble and dropped green crabs down to their doom. It didn't take long for the tog to find their free snacks. They picked us clean the first few rounds, but then we got the hang of it. We pulled up shortie after shortie. It was nonstop action. Towards the last of our crab bits, George and I caught our only keepers of the day. His was 16", mine was just shy of 20". The fat bugger was five pounds. Around this time we noticed we could no longer see any of the other boats that were around us. The fog really socked in! And it was getting late. Time to bug out. I put the radar on and followed my track back from whence we came. Running in a heavy fog is just eerie. All sense of direction vanishes. Sounds are distorted. Thank God for electronics. We made it safely into the inlet and under the bridge. Once inside the ICW we felt constricted and disoriented. We thought about pulling into one of the other, closer boat ramps or just tying up at one other marinas for the sake of safety. Then we just figured stuff it. Let's take our chances. So we pressed on. Pretty sure the fog got even more dense as we approached the football field area. If you know it, you know it. The place is a long stretch of narrow channel flanked by mucky mud flats. The place eats boats on crystal clear days. We were running it blind. Slow and steady won the race. We made it through and picked our way back to the marina. We arrived in the dark. The fog never relented. I pulled the boat and made for home. George was good company and a solid navigator, picking the channel markers out of the pea soup. We didn't find any stripers, or any of the streaking bluefin tuna that have been rampaging through bunker schools. Maybe next time... Tight Lines!

First, Happy Veterans Day. Thank you to all who have, and still serve. Our Veterans Day trip, unfortunately, fell through. I'm hoping to make it up next summer with a bigger and better event to give a bit of thanks to those who have given so much for us. I still managed to get out today with Jesse and Scott. The morning started off a little bumpy, but it really settled out nicely by the afternoon. There were gannetts dive bombing from above, raining terror upon hapless bait fish. We cruised past the areas to see what we might find. No stripers, but loads of bait. Hopefully they show up soon. We ran out to the reef and spot locked over some rubble. We dropped down rigs loaded with green crab pieces and were rewarded with extremely willing tog. We had our three fish limit in short order. We could've had our five fish limit per man had it been the 16th. Tog are just so much fun to catch. We bounced around to different pieces and caught at each one. When our green crabs ran out we switched up to squid, clam, and Mole crabs. The sea bass were willing takers. We managed three keeper sea bass. We poked further out hoping to find bigger fish in deeper water. Didn't happen. We came back inside and worked over some wrecks. Jesse landed the biggest, slime covered, ugly, damn eel, I've ever seen. And the best part, Scott wanted it because they're good eats. Nope. Scott managed to find a stray triggerfish on one of the pieces of wreck. A few bergals, and far too many spiny dogs rounded out the days catch. We landed well over a hundred fish today. We had nonstop action. Lots of laughs, memories, and fun. A perfect day. Tight Lines!

Ran out to the rubble and wrecks with Keith. Our first pile was a barrage of constant tog bites. The rigs no sooner hit the bottom when they were assaulted by rapid fire tog bites. I managed to pull up five. Keith fed them. Nothing big, but all were fun. We decided to run out deeper. We didn't mark much on the pieces we were hovering over, but we built up a bite. All short sea bass, and a short flounder landed by Keith. Just before we left, we managed a keeper sea bass each. But the bite had slowed considerably. Onward we went. Our final destination had two boats already working it over. We found our own area to ply and dropped down our rigs. Mole crabs, squid, and clam all worked. The current was really heavy, pulling our sinkers out further than we wanted. I should have put on heavier leads, but we managed. The boat drifting behind us pulled in a beast of a sea bass, measuring in at 20 inches. The other boat to our left wasn't doing so well. We had consistent action. Our companions decided to leave, so we poked around. We spot locked on what looked to be a tasty piece with fish hovering above it. Around this time another boat decided to join us. Rather than simply drifting across the area, he decided to run a circle around us. He then stopped about twenty yards off our stern and held his position by back trolling. His exhaust fumes we just lovely. Then he'd let her go and drift by us. And repeat the process. Granted, he never interfered with our fishing, but it was annoying. Especially his exhaust. Courtesy is dead. They finally left, they weren't doing so well. We hung out enjoying the now quiet and fresh air. We ended up keeping thirteen out of the fifty sea bass we caught (yes, I keep score). We tossed plenty of keepers back. We could have had our two man limit, but decided we didn't need all of those fish. We had plenty. We finally called it a day. The conditions were incredible, except for the raging current. Not sure of it was the Moon or the tropical storm, either way, it made things interesting. The trolling motor got a work out. Can't wait for tog season to open back up, and the striper bite to get more consistent. Well, out front at least. They are chewing in the back... Tight Lines!