December Hardtails in Southern New England

 Now you might be thinking I'm nuts based on that title, but it's true. Long after the last little tunny has left and the hopes and prayers for those mythical late season bonito have come up empty, a well kept, small scale hardtail bite manifests as winter begins. Old timers may talk about mackerel fishing in Long Island sound in the good old days, and though there is nothing like that apparently was- nor much of the wild late season fishing that could be had back then -there are still some Atlantic mackerel to be caught. Spurred on by whispers and a long held desire to figure out this very infrequently discussed bite, I went out mostly blind with a 5wt and small flashy streamers. 

I've caught Atlantic mackerel many times in Maine, where they are present for most of the warm season in huge numbers. I'd also seen them in Massachusetts, but more as a baitfish than a target. I'd never seen one South of the Cape. Though these fish are pretty small compared to bonito or tunny, I welcomed the idea of catching a scombrid of any kind in a month when saltwater fishing is getting less and less diverse by the day. December signals the end of the fall abundance and species diversity as the water cools rapidly. But mackerel like this cold water, and that's exactly when they come around. Most of the time they are caught incidentally by folks fishing for herring. I couldn't be sure they were very targetable, but I liked the idea and was willing to risk skunking. 

On my first attempt, skunking was exactly what I did. I ruled out some tides and times though, at least for one spot that looked like it had potential, and in one location I did watch people catch some herring and mackerel. The very next day I came back much earlier. The first spot was basically a dud, though I had a fish swirl on my fly at the end of one retrieve and on other brief hookup. I remained hopeful on the short drive to stop number two. There, I found exactly what I was looking for.

I must say I was almost surprised to catch one at all, even though I'd combed through what little information was available and poured over the maps for days prior. It felt like a wild goose chase, but there I was holding the goose. Many more came over the next few hours, and I felt pretty good about myself, especially since I was far from the only one fishing that spot and I was doing much better than anyone else there at the time. It does feel good, being the only one in a lineup with a fly rod and putting more meat in the bucket than anyone else. 

And yes, I was putting meat in the bucket. Mackerel are wonderful table fare and plenty abundant, so I wanted to take advantage of this opportunity to try a new fish. When I was catching them sometimes two at a time, it was quite a good opportunity indeed. 

Small though Atlantic mackerel may be, they still have that hardtail spirit. They pull really well, doing nice little runs and circling once brought in close just like their larger cousins. They don't have the weight to put on a big screaming run, but they makeup for that with an unwillingness to quit. They're excellent light tackle fodder. 

I ended up with a pretty nice pile of them that day. When I got home and started processing them I found that the only baitfish they had in their stomach was juvenile menhaden. I'd expected small sand eels or even silversides, but there are indeed lots of peanuts still lingering around southern New England. The odds of encountering stripers chowing on them are still pretty good as I write this on December 12th. IF you know where to look...

I've been making regular trips for mackerel over the first weeks of December and will be continuing to as winter rolls along. It's become a short-term obsession. They're fun little fish, and I enjoy how obscure this bite is. Oh, and they were absolutely delicious. 

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, C, Franky, Geof, Luke, Streamer Swinger, and Noah for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version.

Maine Striped Bass on the Fly

In early evening, after saying goodbye to Geoff Klane and, shortly thereafter, Massachusetts, Noah and I crossed the bridge over the Piscataqua into the state that would be our home away from home for the next ten days.

(Photo edit by Malachi Lytle)

We headed towards a place we'd visited on our trip last year, where we'd encountered a ton of sand eels and a striper bite that we hadn't quite gotten a good grip on. Although this trip revolved around getting some new species, we also both wanted to fill in some other gaps in our knowledge. Maine provided an opportunity to learn more about striped bass. A lot of the shoreline is structurally different there than southern New England. The primary baitfish is different too. The massive tides, also different. I simply follow learning opportunities wherever they lead me. And they had lead me right back to this beach in southwestern Maine.

We got kind of lucky in regards to meeting the right people there. Surfcasters are a tight-lipped bunch, and rightly so. There is too much to lose by giving away information, especially these days. But the gentleman we met there was kind enough to share a bit. I wish I could remember his name. He suggested what fly I should use and pointed me towards a good spot. In the end I decided to keep away from them just out of respect, especially since there were a number of other surfcasters there. But what he told me will certainly be of use in the future, because I do want to fish this spot again. It has big fish potential. Noah and I want up into a creek to play with some smaller fish that were popping on sand eels. I swung small flatwings. Noah fished an SP Minnow. We got our Maine redemption. 

The next morning we headed further north and east toward Saco Bay and another place we'd encountered stripers but hadn't caught any. We launched the kayaks under hazy skies onto hazy water. Though clearer than many portions of Long Island Sound, and colder, the water here surprised me. It was more turbid and warmer than I'd expected. I wrongly assumed that this would have a negative impact on the fishing. I was wrong.

As far north as were there weren't really likely to be many big fish around this early. As such, though there were tons of massive schools of adult bunker around and the tide, wind, and lighting were more than good enough, there were no cow stripers or big bluefish molesting them. There undoubtedly are some serious bass in Maine in July, but not where we were and not enough that bunker gauruntees a big fish blitz.

What were there, though, were extremely feisty 20 inch class schoolies. The leeward side of every rock outcropping seemed to hold a handful of willing bass. And what they lacked in size they made up for in strength. Cold, clean, oxygenated water makes for very hard fighting stripers. I've caught a lot of small striped bass. I can easily and quickly get most of them to hand without an inch of line getting taken on the 10wt. These fish though, were kicking my butt. I'd really love to lock into a 25 pound bass in Maine.

The method was pretty simple. Floating line, seven foot level 20lb leader, #2 pink and white Half and Half. The erratic, jigging action of the fly when fished with short, quick strips closely imitated the actions of the young of the year Atlantic herring that these fish were feeding on.

After I got about a half dozen goodlooking stripers, we called it quits on familiar species and headed further northeast still, towards the remarkable place that is Mt. Desert Island.

If you enjoy what I'm doing here, please share and comment. It is increasingly difficult to maintain this blog under dwindling readership. What best keeps me going so is knowing that I am engaging people and getting them interested in different aspects of fly fishing, the natural world, and art. Follow, like on Facebook, share wherever, comment wherever. Also, consider supporting me on Patreon (link at the top of the bar to the right of your screen, on web version). Every little bit is appreciated! Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, john, and Christopher, for supporting this blog.

The Realities of My Pursuit

If you enjoy what I'm doing here, please share and comment. It is increasingly difficult to maintain this blog under dwindling readership. What best keeps me going so is knowing that I am engaging people and getting them interested in different aspects of fly fishing, the natural world, and art. Follow, like on Facebook, share wherever, comment wherever. Also, consider supporting me on Patreon (link at the top of the bar to the right of your screen, on web version). Every little bit is appreciated! 
Thanks for joining the adventure, and tight lines.

My constant pursuit of new fish species has been far more rewarding than I ever thought it would be when I started. There are too many fish species on this planet to catch in a lifetime, much less on a fly rod. The hunt is never really the same. Techniques, locations, gear... it may be close, even the same at surface value, from one species to another, but there is always something new to learn. Always. Sometimes I learn enough before catching a new species that I get it on the first try. Sometimes, as with my grass carp campaign, it takes a bunch of trips to same body of water to learn enough to succeed. And, sometimes, you drive more than 140 miles in a day only to fail to locate your query. Such was the case this Sunday for Noah and I.

We wanted to intercept the Northeast's second herring run. Every late fall and early winter Atlantic herring make grace us with their presence, starting up north and progressing south as waters cool. They often bring the last big striper bite out front before making themselves targets for shore bound anglers looking to extend their saltwater fishing just a little longer. Unlike the spring river herring run, Clupea harengus do not enter our inshore and nearshore water to spawn, not in December. Atlantic herring spawn in the summer, and are not anadromous. The early winter herring run here has more to do with changing water temperatures and food availability. Hoping to intercept some big schools of these silvery, slim bodied fish, Noah and I jumped in the van and drove into the urban jungle.

There are parts of this state that I have not thoroughly explored. And when that is the case it is a smart idea to enlist the assistance of someone local. Lucky for us, Noah and I were stepping onto the turf of my good friend John Huber. Before we went off on or herring mission, he gave us the tour of some of his trout, striper, and bluefish spots. We saw and fished some good water although the conditions were not ideal. And I found some sweet old glass coke bottles and some quartz crystals, so it isn't just the fish that will draw me back to these spots. 

After we parted ways with John, we fished or tried to fish a number of known herring spots. Nobody seemed to be out there targeting them, which was problematic. Typically if they are around there are folks out there in the cold loading up sabiki rigs with fish to take home. We saw signs of life, we were there for what should have been the right tide, fishing the right stuff, but we did not get so much as a bump. There is more to be learned here. 

I wanted to salvage the skunk, I've had a few this week trying to find safe ice (there was none). A wild trout stream on the way home gave up the goods. A pretty fish it was, but not what we did all that driving for. 

These are the realities of my pursuit. On any given day I could chose to go after something I've caught many times before, or a new species. If I got for what I've caught before I'm liable to have better success. I am also not as likely to learn as much. But when I've caught most (not all) of the species in close proximity to home, it becomes more costly and time consuming to go for something new. Is it worth it? Hell yes it is. 

Whether or not I will catch #101 before I go back to Florida remains to be seen, but I am going to try.