The Largest Fish I've Ever Caught

I was awoken on the morning of July 18th by a phone call. I answered groggily. "Got plans today?" my friend Joe Apanowitch ("Boots") asked.
"No" I replied.
"Want to go fishing?"
"Yes."
"Good. I'll be there in about an, hour we're going to Block."

That woke me up.

One of the last big biomasses of huge striped bass in the Northeast summers in the cold, dark waters off Block Island. There's no place else quite like it, and the giant bass draw anglers from all the surrounding states. It is, unquestionably, an abused fishery, and not really my style (if it can be said I even have a style). But I'd wanted to go for years for one reason. I wanted to see if it was possible to get one of those huge bass out of relatively deep water on the fly. I figured it probably was, but I also wasn't seeing 50 pound Block Island fly caught stripers getting posted on social media so maybe there was a reason for that. It would be a huge challenge, requiring well thought out strategy and lots of problem solving. That, to me, was as appealing as the prospect of huge striped bass.

Later that day, I watched Race Rock come into view. Joe Karnik was at the helm. Russ "Doc" Zivcovich was inside getting some rest (they'd been out already for tuna the day prior), and Boots, Erik Badger, Sammy and I were on the deck. I was the only one who'd never done this run before. It felt strange to watch Race Rock slide by without stopping to look for breaking fish, or cast to resident bass right against that monolith in turbulent waters.

It wasn't long before our view was devoid of landmarks familiar to me. Montauk was faintly visible, and soon I was looking at Block Island from the opposite side I was used to. When we got to the big bass promised land, we were greeted by a large ocean sunfish finning at the surface. That was quite the welcome. The last time I saw an ocean sunfish was, if I remember correctly, in October 2017, with my good friend Mark Alpert back in more familiar waters in Long Island Sound. Seeing one isn't that common an occurrence. They're strange creatures, very alien looking, and only vaguely capable of moving under their own power. They eat jellyfish, so they really don't need speed, not for feeding purposes. They do get chomped by sharks and hit by boats though.

We weren't expecting lights out action right away, the tide was a little weird. But I did catch a big male black seabass before too too long. I was actually pleased with how easily I was able to get a big fly to the bottom, even in relatively deep water, without resorting to the methods I had to in Maine to get cod and haddock on the fly. I was getting the odd seabass bump, and that allowed me to take note of one of the significant issues using a fly rod in this fishery... I could barely feel those hits. It was nearly impossible to prevent there being a big bow in the line. I didn't know yet how the bass would hit the fly in this situation, so though I was sure I'd register a strike I didn't know if it would happen with enough time to react and set hard.

A got my answer earlier than I was expecting. Joe gestured to me, indicating that we were about to drift over a big pile of bass, and right on cue I got absolutely slammed. I stripped like a madman, trying to compensate for the bow in the line, and I though momentarily that I had her, as my rod bucked hard with her huge head shakes. Then, slack.

That was my one chance on this trip to get it done with the fly rod. I never had another take from a striper. I got another big seabass, and some ambiguous takes, but I blew my one real chance. Now though the gears were turning. I know I can get this done, I just need to hone my gear and tactics a little more.

After dark the guys started to hook some fish on eels and soft plastics. It was hard to watch 30-40lb class bass getting boated and keep grinding with the fly rod without any takes.

So I switched started fishing eels. The last time I'd fished live eels had been in shallow water with Mike Roy, free lined. This was very different from that in many ways, but the first time I registered a hit it brought back memories... it felt very much the same. I got a couple fish, after getting a better feel for the fishing style, and barely even registered the fact that one of them was the largest fish I'd ever caught.

Photo courtesy Joe Karnik

Then, a bit after midnight, I hooked a fish that felt a little bit larger. Judging the size on unfamiliar tackle was difficult, but when the fish came into the light it became pretty obvious what we had.

My largest striped bass, my largest fish ever, measured just a half inch under 50 and weighed just a hair under 50 pounds.
I'd never caught a fish that weighed one pound per inch before.

The night then took on a surreal quality. Thick fog periodically engulfed us, completely hiding the rest of the fleet. It was as if we were the only ones in existence... just us and the boat. Like a gigantic sensory deprivation chamber.

To add to the unique feel, huge schools of squid swam in and out of the lights. Occasionally, they were quite nervous, likely being fed on by big stripers and bluefish. I've seen squid before, leaping to evade bass in the first wave of a rip, but I'd never seen this many. There were thousands of them out there. It was remarkable to see.

We kept catching fish at a steady pace through the night and into the morning, but to me what was impressive wasn't simply the size of the bass or how many we were catching, but how effective this crew was. Doc and Joe had been doing this together quite a while, and it showed. Boots as well has been fishing Block successfully for years, and has his own techniques he employs when on his own boat. Their experience was evident in the subtleties of presentation as well as the fact the Joe could sometimes accurately call hookups before they happened.

The fog remained thick most of the morning, and I switched back to the fly rod hoping to get a second chance at glory under the fog bow.

Frankly the rest was a blur of exhaustion. I was in and out of sleep on the way back in to Niantic, despite the relatively rough conditions and sitting upright, so it wasn't really until the next day that I got to think about what had happened.

I knew it the whole time though. That very nearly 50 pound striped bass, as well as every other fish I'd caught on eels that night, was not my accomplishment to flout. Not at all. I put no work into that... everyone else on the boat had exponentially more experience in this fishery than I did. I was just along for the ride. Though that was the largest fish I've ever caught and could easily remain my largest striper for a long time, every bit of the credit goes to Boots, Joe, Doc, and Badger. That fish was their accomplishment, a testament to their hard work and dedication, not mine. Thanks guys, that was really something. I won't soon forget that experience. Those fish are amazing animals, truly something to behold. Breathtaking. Jaw dropping. It almost feels wrong, bringing such an old majestic beast out of those dark waters, a place mostly hidden from our prying eyes. I only have one need to accomplish at those waters off Block now... I need to get a 50 pound class bass on the fly. And I may not accomplish that. But I'm going to try. And if and when I've accomplished that feat, the bass at Block Island won't have me to worry about anymore. I really only want that one fish.

Until next time,
Fish for the love of fish.
Fish for the love of places fish live.
Fish for you.
And stay safe and healthy.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, and Franky for supporting this blog on Patreon.