Figments

 The wall seems all that much longer on hot summer days. The sun beats down, making me sweat, and the wind dries that sweat right away. The two conspire to suck the moisture clean out of the weary anglers very skin. Guzzling water is the only thing that staves off possible disaster. When the tide is down the best move is often to go all the way to the end. That's almost a mile- completely exposed, no shade, no cover at all. Going halfway sucks. Going all the way feels stupid; especially in this early season when the fish might not even be there. 

The fish are bonito. Atlantic bonito arrive earlier in the summer, often August but sometimes July. More ethereal than little tunny are these days, there's even less assurance that there will be good numbers of bonito any given year. There could easily be very few, there could be hundreds. The good news in my experience is that they will eat pretty readily most of the time if they are there. It may take minor presentation adjustments, but bonito will take bigger flies, often a little more impressionistic ones, sometimes the feeds are a bit more sustained. I've seen a small bonito eat a 6 inch long Deceiver. They have substantial teeth, which they seem to use to chop up somewhat larger baitfish. Well, they seem easy when they're around. But if they aren't around....

Some days the chop on the water serves to conceal signs of life. That chop also often makes the fish stupid easy. That's always been true of tunny for me, and I think bonito as well. It makes it hard to see them though, and when there's big question as to their presence or absence that causes a lack of confidence. This day the chop and swell are significant, I really can't tell if fish are breaking at all. Maybe they are, maybe they're hiding behind the swell. Maybe some of those white caps are actually bonito cresting over the waves. Probably not though. Could I effectively fish I'd be able to answer that question, but there's a thick line of weeds that prevents me from getting a fly through the water clean. Bits of reddish brown gunk cling to it after each cast. This may just be a waste of time. 

Bored yet stubborn, I wait for some sign of life. I sit on the rocks, scanning. Birds cruise by, also scanning. I always wonder how the chop and breakers effect their ability to find fish. I'm sure less so than it does me, but I've watched them lose track of the fish plenty of times. They have an especially hard time with hardtails. Out of the corner of my eye I catch something. A break maybe? I can't be sure. My mind plays tricks on me when it's like this and I've been out for hours, just waiting. 

It does get better when I can actively fish. I don't have a heavy sink tip with me this time which negates the possibility of dredging g deep and picking up some seabass, scup or fluke. I try to let my intermediate get deep but that just isn't what it's made for. All there is to pass the time is watching boats. I observe how they're fishing. Everyone today seems to be drifting and jigging. Nobody is chasing birds. I don't think any of the boats are targeting the fish I'm after. I still watch, seeing if some devote significant time to drifts I've not fished. I don't know what they're after, fluke or scup probably. I take note regardless. Maybe some know something I don't. It's always worth paying attention to those things. 

Suddenly, there, near the fish trap... that was a fish, it had to be. I train my eyes on the area, watching intensely and squinting through the glare. I'm sure that was a fish, but will it show again? After some time passes I scan further from where I spotted the break. It can't be that close to where it was by now. Is there the slightest but of hope that I'll see it again? Not a prayer. It has vanished into the sea, a mere figment of my imagination. I don't think it even was a bonito after all. 

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, Franky, Geof, Luke, Noah, Justin, Sean, Tom, Mark, and Jake 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.

False Albacore Fly Woes: Lizardfish

 My third day targeting tunny I had limited time. I had a short window to fish before I needed to go to work. Fish were present- both bonito and tunny -right upon my arrival. The were feeding in very slick water, often a recipe for picky eaters. I felt I got a few shots the should have been seen but I'm not sure. 

I was fishing with a gartside gurgler. This often isn't pegged as a tunny or bonito fly but these fish love lures that skitter on the surface, so a fly that skitters on top is a logical choice. I've had days where a gurgler really saved me from skunking. Notably, back in 2017 when the tunny were actually numerous and widespread, one of my best days saw numerous tunny in slicked out conditions very willing to eat gurglers but not much else. 

Unfortunately this time my tricks didn't work, at leas not for tunny. What I did get, interestingly enough, was a new species. On one retrieve my fly came in with what initially seemed like weeds on it. Upon closer inspection it was actually a fish! Specifically, and inshore lizardfish. This is a species I've expected in Florida for years now, where they are abundant and at times considered a pest. Instead I'd caught my lifer on a gurgler in 10 feet of water in Connecticut... very strange. 

Lifelist fish #184, Inshore lizardfish, Synodus foetens. Rank: Species

Lizardfish aren't completely unfamiliar fish in the Northeast. They're known to occur in the same are I was fishing most years, though 2021 has certainly seen a relative abundance. Though aggressive lizardfish hunt from the bottom of the water column, as evidenced by their head structure and eye position. They are ambush predators that attack prey from below, concealed against a mud or sand bottom. Adults reach lengths over a foot, with females generally being larger than males. A lizardfish's mouth is full of small teeth, and I imagine being bitten by one would be a little unpleasant. They are  very cool little fish honestly and I wouldn't mind catching more of them.

I've ended up encountering lizardfish repeatedly this season, and that has been quite interesting. But for the third day I had to be content with a couple of them and simply watching the tunny and bonito slip by, unwilling to eat what I was presenting. It was starting to feel like I'd forgotten how to catch these fish, though it was still only the beginning. 

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.

The Blitz Is On

 The cold north wind really got things going. The bait is flushing out of the estuaries, the bass and tunny are on the move, and there a few bonito and bluefish around too. This is the season of chaos, fast action and visually spectacular feeds. I you'd like to fish the fall run with me, book soon! I'm running trips along the Rhode Island beaches until the end of November. Day and night, weekdays and weekends. Email me at brwntroutangler@gmail.com if you're interested!

A Surprise Visit by The Big Bass

This year in CT has provided precious few opportunities to get into good sized striped bass with the fly rod. With the biomass of big female bass at the lowest it has been since even I started to fish for this species not all that many years ago, big fish are concentrated in isolated pockets, and Long Island Sound has not been a hot spot this season. But with the water cooling gradually and big stripers leaving their northern summer haunts, as well as coming inshore to feed on the bait leaving the estuaries, the odds improve a little. A few days ago Mark Alpert and I set out looking for anything that would eat our flies. We found schoolies and bonito fairly quickly, and hung out waiting for shots. Other boats came and went without hooking up, but our patience payed off when the bonito popped up within range. I missed mine but Mark hooked up. This little bonito ate a pretty big fly, one about 4 inches in length... just some food for thought.

After a while our bonito stopped showing as much and we'd pretty much put the bass down over repeated drifts, so we decided to move. The sun was high, the tide was slack, and there were no birds and breaking fish around. But we aren't one trick ponies and we don't just run and gun blitzing fish... the fish everybody can catch. We slid up into an area I knew was likely to hold some bass and I sent a hookless topwater plug as far as I could. Four feet into the retrieve there was a massive explosion. Then another, and another, and another. Three or four giant stripers mouthed, tail slapped, and t-boned the plug repeatedly, growing more and more frustrated in there inability to kill it. As they got closer I could see them clearly in the water and said "Holy shit Mark, these are giant bass". Things got frantic then. I got the plug out of the water and we both made casts with the fly rods, which resulted in takes from smaller and bigger fish but no hookups. Speaking for myself, I was far too excited to get things right and needed to take a moment to calm down. We drifted out of the area, regrouped, re-set another drift, and I picked up the plug rod again. I made  few casts on one side of the boat without pulling up a fish. I turned and made a cast in the other direction and a 40lb fish blew up on the plug almost as soon as it hit the water. I kept it coming, drawing the fish into casting range. Mark made the cast and I yanked the plug out of the water. I immediately saw all five or six of the fish that were following it, each 40 inches or larger, frantically start looking for something to kill. All that was left was Mark's fly, and one fish accelerated and inhaled it. I didn't know it yet, but it was actually the smallest of that group, though still a very big fish by both of our standards. The fight was typical and perfect. Nothing went wrong. I lipped the fish after we'd drifted well out of the area where these big bass were holding, looked around to make sure there wasn't anyone to see me lift the fish, and hoisted her into the boat. She was a beauty. She was everything she needed to be, really.

It was mine turn next, and the fish did exactly what I was worried in the back of my mind they would do. They left! We didn't find that school or any other big school of large bass before the sun set. I caught a smaller fish and lost one that was probably pretty big, but not enough so to be upset about for an extended period of time. But, in the end, one is enough, and I was very happy to have taken part in the capture of that fish. Big bass are just different. I love schoolies for their willing nature and aggressive nature, sometimes goofy behavior, and beautiful coloration. But big bass... they are more like a proper big animal. I tend to use low grunting noises in association with gestures to describe the size of a large striper instead of just words. Because they are big, lumbering, hulking animals. The biggest bass are almost scary, like being in the water with a hungry one might be a bad idea somehow. And yet they are so picky, and so hard to find, and so skittish. I love getting to see them slam a hookless topwater plug with reckless abandon, and yet I also love to see them refuse a fly and spook too. I want them to be around for as long as I am and much longer. 

So please submit comments on Draft Addendum VI, and demand that more be done than what it proposes. The clock is ticking. 

Until next time.

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

 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, Elizabeth, and Christopher, for supporting this blog.

CT Bonito and Spanish Mackerel

The albies are taking their sweet time getting into Long Island Sound this year. They've been around the Cape for a while now, and in Rhode Island for at least a week. I know a few pods have wandered into CT waters but not enough to reliably go out and find them. For me, the lack of albies hasn't been a disappointment. They typically out-compete the other pelagic species and push them out of the sound, though in years past there'd often be another shot at bonito right at the end of the hardtail season. So for at least a little while longer, there are bonito around. But of greater interest to me is the even less frequent visitor to CT waters that has showed in force this early fall: Atlantic Spanish mackerel. In three trips to Florida I'd never really gotten a shot at Spanish, despite having been in a lot of places they'd be likely to show up. This year they started appearing along New Jersey in late June. Then on Long Island, Cape Cod, the islands, Rhode Island in August. At the start of September some had made their way into Long Island Sound. I kept missing the bite though or just not making it to the shore on good days. I was worried that Dorian would push the albies in had and I'd miss my chance. Turns out, it actually pushed more Spanish mackerel in instead. Two days after the storm passed Noah and I set out in search of scombrids not really knowing exactly what we'd find. Before we even launched though we could see bonito and Spanish leaping and breaking. Between staring at the water and rushing to get out there, I'm not sure how much time we wasted. But I do know that we both got bonito on pretty much our first casts. Mine absolutely ripped off, putting up the hardest fight I've had from a bonito, almost making me think it might be an albie or at least a much bigger bone. It ended up just being the same small size fish that we've had around.

These fish were actually in quite shallow water, ambushing a school of silversides that as holding over a patch of eel grass. We could see the grass patch, which was excellent because it afforded us the opportunity to stick to that spot and just wait for the hardtails to come blasting into the bait again. Noah hooked up next, and it was a Spanish mackerel. Of course the guy who has already caught the species is the one that gets the first one of the day!

I wasn't too worried  though as the short chaotic blitzes kept erupting over our little grass patch. Often, these fish were less than five feet from us. It was wild and beautiful. 

I hooked up next and of course it was another bonito. I was starting to worry. Little did I know, by day's end I'd have more of that species than I'd ever have thought I'd get a shot at in CT waters.

Our grass patch bite kind of fizzled out eventually, and we moved out into deeper water where we'd seen fish before. As we did so I glanced southwest and saw a cloud of birds. We hurried in that direction and in a short time I could see the fish breaking. We got there just in time for the action to fizzle out, of course. I decided to hang around there for a bit though as I'd encountered clouds of bait in the same area every year, seemingly for no reason at all but always in the same small patch of deep water. Noah decided he wanted to go check out another spot. I decided to stay. It wasn't that long after we'd parted ways when the fish came back up again. I got into them fairly quickly and hooked up to the third bonito of the day. As I fought that fish the school basically followed me, blowing up at arms reach all around my kayak. I boated and released that bonito as quick as I could and was hooked up again on the very next cast. 

Noah got back over just in time for one brief shot at the bonito, and then they didn't come up heavy again for a while though there were stray boils and leaps. We blind cast, and both got takes from what were almost certainly Spanish, then again I looked Southwest and saw birds. Again Noah and I headed different directions, but by this time things didn't really get going hard until he caught back up to me and now it was all Spanish. I finally added this wacky, beautiful species to my lifelist. 

Lifelist fish #141, Atlantic Spanish mackerel, Scomberomorus maculatus, Rank: Species

After that fish the floodgates opened. Noah and I hammered Spanish for the rest of the evening. It was incredible hardtail fishing. This ended up being far and away the best day targeting scombrids I'd ever had. We both caught tons of Spanish. I very quickly learned that, unlike bonito which have rounded teeth, Spanish mackerel have quite sharp teeth. They destroyed my flies and damaged my leader.

Fortunately these buggers weren't super abundant, they do more damage than the mackerel.

These were only little ones unfortunately so they weren't really that good a fight on a 10wt, frankly the bonito kicked their butts and they aren't that impressive either. We pretty much left them chewing in that spot for our own safety as the sun set. I got one striper and a couple bluefish on the way back in, and we shark fished after dark, but it wasn't anything to write home about. It did mean I didn't get much sleep though, so I was pretty tired when Rick and I headed out to fish the same area the next morning. The conditions were different, and though they were behaving a bit differently the fish were still there. The fly rod proved to be the winning tool this time, far out performing spinning. 

This time, a few went in the cooler. I botched the 2nd fillets a bit on the first and second fish. The fist fish especially. But the meat was remarkably white for a hardtail. These fish have got Bonito beat in terms of food quality, at least by my tastes. Broiled they were delicious. I might try some pan seared next time.

There's about two more weeks during which encounters with crazy exotic fish are possible. I'm hoping to run into at least a few more new species in the coming month. 

Until next time.

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

 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, Elizabeth, and Christopher, for supporting this blog.

Bonito and a BIG Black Sea Bass on the Fly

A couple weekends ago I wanted to show my friend Brandon some good bonito fishing either in CT or Rhode Island. We ended up going about as far east as I was willing, because that's where the party was. Under cloudy skies and with a east-northeast wind blowing, we launched and set out into waters where, unbeknownst to either of us, a great white had been seen just days before. Actually, Ian Devlin and I had been there while that tagged shark was there. I would have loved to have seen it then, but I'm pleased it didn't show up with Brandon and I out there in our kayaks. 

Initially, we waited around in close for fish to show. There wasn't much sign of life though, and there was a cluster of boats about a mile out, so we meandered over to check it out. Again we saw no breaks and not much bait, so we both turned to fishing deep.  That bite was going strong, with porgies and smaller black sea bass being the major players. I kept hoping a grey triggerfish or some kind of snapper would come up.

Stenotomus chrysops

Towards the end of one drift I felt a very subtle take and set into what felt like another tiny sea bass. I began reeling up the fish when suddenly, ten cranks in, it woke up and revealed that it wasn't tiny at all. My five weight doubled over as the fish ran back down towards the bottom, taking 30 feet of line. It dogged be for a little while, making me wonder just what I'd hooked into. Then I got it topside, and it was the biggest black sea bass I'd ever seen in person. An elephant had, once again, found my peanut.

Centropristis striata (photo courtesy Brandon Hakulin)

(photo courtesy Brandon Hakulin) 

Not long after I released that monster the fog bank I'd been watching to the east started closing the gap and I made the executive decision to go back in. I don't mess around with fog in kayaks a mile from shore. We made it into the inlet before the fog rolled by and right around the time some bonito showed up. Our timing could not have been more perfect.

I hooked up in after a bit of chasing the school around. They had thinned out a bit and weren't breaking, but I could see flashes deeper in the water column. In all likelihood these fish were working cleanup, taking stunned or dead silversides, missed casualties of the initial blitz. Eventually one of those flashes was on my fly.

Sarda sarda

We chased the bonito up and down the channel for a bit before Brandon decided he was better off on the rocks. He landed and walked out the Jetty, I stayed in my kayak. I was in perfect position to photograph and fish the next school that erupted in the eddy. 

As that blitz dissipated I hooked up again. It was the same scenario as the first, after the bait spread out and the surface breaks ceased cleanup crew took the leftovers. 

That action continued for a solid hour after that. I missed three more takes on the fall (a big albie taking a fly on the fall almost always hooks itself, but these little bonito... not so much) and didn't catch another, but I'd doubled my total lifetime bonito count so I was happy. Unfortunately for Brandon, beginners luck didn't kick in. He had one swipe and no hookups. I think it's likely that my full sinking line helped substantially, as well as my relatively slow retrieve. I only saw to other hookups and there were easily 50 people casting to those fish.

Then, Brandon fell in. Thank God he didn't capsize, but falling in at all in the middle of a channel is not a good situation. Luckily no trawlers or ferries were coming through and we were off to the side of the channel, but that did pretty much put an end to our kayaking there. The bonito had left anyway, and it was going to start to rain.

The day was still young though, and we soon found ourselves on the boat with Phil Sheffield, watching some of the best schoolie striper blitzes of August in a heavy rain squall. But that was legitimately too much to talk about any more than that... 

Until next time.

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

 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, Elizabeth, and Christopher, for supporting this blog.

Connecticut Bonito

Before I'd even heard any rumors of bonito in CT this year I was already out hoping I'd get shots at them. I'm not one to follow reports, so I'm sure somewhere somebody had reported in one of the local publications that there were a few around, but I didn't look for that information and didn't even want to see it  if it did exist. I'll chase a really good report, but I'd also rather find my own bite. Often, its just on a whim. In 2017, Noah and I were among the first catch little tunny from shore in CT on September 11th. I saw the conditions line up, we went, and they were there. I hadn't heard a single report yet and nobody else was there targeting them at a quite popular location. Well, on the 4th of August I went to likely water with plans to target other species, but fully prepared for shots at the elusive and beautiful Sarda sarda. Nothing showed, as I expected. There was bait but it wasn't the right tide. I fished for bottom dwelling species, catching some bergals and the first fluke I've brought to hand on the fly in a long while.

A move was made that provided futile, and with very little time left to fish I decided I wanted to go back to the first location. The tide was right, and as if on command, there they were. Nothing locally feeds quite like bones. Superficially, blues or albies could be mistaken for them, but if you have been chasing these fish for a while, there can be no doubt. I was seeing my first definitive bonito blitz in CT waters. I got one shot, a few boils behind my fly, then I had to leave. But you know I was going back the very next day! 

On August 5th, Noah and I got out before I thought the fish would show, always a good policy when tunoids, bass, or bluefish are involved, especially in the days of phone chain bite finding, when a good blitz gets pounced on faster than ever. Before the bonito showed, we sight fished sea robins and drifted for scup and fluke. 

Then, around the top of the tide, I saw some big splashes to my west. I shouted to Noah and we paddled like hell towards the chaos being wrought on a school of silversides. I was the first to get a take, and it was a good one. But I had also just stopped paddling, so the fish and I were both traveling straight towards each other. Lots of slack, no way to really catch up, no hookup. Noah took first blood on a small plug we are inclined to keep a secret for now. Suffice to say, it's going to be a serious game changer for bonito and albies and NOBODY up here is using it right now but him.

Noah's lifer Atlantic bonito.

The fish stayed on a predictable course and I missed another take before hooking up. My first tunoid of the year in the first week of August, and my first bonito in CT! A small chartreuse and white clouser did the job. I managed to keep some amount of tension through the fish's rapid direction changes. These little bonito don't make the long initial run larger member of their species of their cousins the little tunny do, so they end up turning sooner and more and can really make things, uh, exciting for one using a reel with a one to one gear ratio. Keeping tension can be tricky, especially in a kayak and without current. Don't use barbless if you like getting to touch your fish.

We didn't really get another shot that day, though we did bottom fish a bit more. Suffice to say, tunoids were around, we were on them, and I could now think of very little else. It was time to hammer down on the salt.

Until next time.

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

 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, Elizabeth, and Christopher, for supporting this blog.