The call came in on Thursday afternoon while I was in a meeting at work. It was from Captain Greg Cudnik of Fishhead Charters. I had originally booked a trip with him for the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, then canceled it and rescheduled it for the following Monday because of Friday’s forecast, which I had been watching all week. The winds were forecast to be 15 – 25 knots with gusts up to 40 knots for that day. That would make fly fishing difficult, if not impossible depending on wind direction.
Greg’s call was a courtesy call of sorts. He reported that the fishing was really good on Thursday in the inlet and he felt like it was worth a shot, despite the forecast. He left it up to me but wanted to make sure I didn’t come down Friday night, only to hear, “you should have been here yesterday!” He felt we could deal with the wind.
The reports of good fishing excited me. I had wanted to get into big “yellow-eyed demons” (a commonly used term for bluefish) on the fly. Ideally, it would have been on the flats of Barnegat Bay – where spring “racers” often invade in their search for food. These fish look emaciated early in the year, with their big heads and sunken stomachs. They seek out the warm waters of bays to gorge on the abundant young of the year baitfish. The fishing for these starved demons can be very exciting (read, “topwater”) as it takes place in the shallows of the bay in 2 to 4 feet of water.
And so I made the call – I sped home after work, packed up for a 4 day weekend, and drove the 4.5 hours to the Jersey shore, with thoughts of stripers, blues, bite guards, big flies, and fast strips, on my mind…
Day One – fishing with Captain Greg
Bright and early I crested the causeway to Long Beach Island, the sun not yet risen but lighting up the eastern horizon. The bay did not look half as bad as I feared. The wind was up but not howling at least. I drove the long island boulevard to the high sandy end of the island known as Barnegat Light. I made a left past Ella’s Hotel – a tiny hotel that I can remember back when I rode and fished the party boat fleet. Soon I was at the marina. I dressed up in foul weather bibs, pulled out my gear, and met Greg at the dock.
Greg’s boat ready for a dawn patrol. Note the specialized fly rod holders Greg built off the rear seat. The boat can carry 4 rods off the seat, another 4 up top, and 4 under the gunwales.
We rode out to the north jetty in Greg’s 21 foot Parker and the tide was ripping like a whitewater river, racing by the rocks. Greg decided we’d be better off fishing from the north side, out of the inlet, where the water was calmer. He positioned the boat’s bow on to the jetty – it’s green teeth protruding, the sea washing the rocks like the spit of a dragon over its jagged teeth. There was a lot of foamy wash due to the tide and wave action. And so it began – a 10 weight with type 9 sink tip, short leader, and a big jig fly.
I cast the my fly into the rocks and wash, stripping it out, then letting it sink, then varying my retrieve back to the boat. We drifted down the face of the submerged jetty this way, Greg holding the boat as close to the rocks as possible. The wind was out of the northwest and though it did not impede my casting, we knew it would continue to build, possibly ending the fishing early. Time was of the essence!
An angler was positioned on the end of the north jetty, tight to a fish. We watched him land a nice bluefish, release it, and cast a large white surface plug into the wash. It was a good sign to start the morning. After a few more casts I felt a solid deep thump and was soon also hooked up with a blue. The fish fought hard and deep, my rod tip arcing to the water. Give and take ensued until finally the fish was diving around the boat. Greg showed the net and off he went. After a few more runs he tired.
A yellow-eyed demon on the fly. Picture courtesy of Captain Greg Cudnik of Fishhead Charters.
The bluefish was nicely hooked in the corner of the mouth, the wire bite guard untouched. The hook was removed and the fish quickly released. The morning bite went on like that for nearly two hours. We lost track of the count but they were all good fish in the 4 – 8 lb range. Every one of them would clamp shut on Greg’s pliers with the speed and force of a steel trap. Every one brought smiles to our faces.
Bluefish, fly fishing tackle, and smiles go hand in hand… (Pic courtesy of Captain Greg Cudnik)
We worked over the very tip of the submerged jetty where the wash and foam was thickest and caught a nice striper and then a gator blue. The gator stopped the fly abruptly as I stripped it through the wash, then jumped clear of the water like bluefish sometimes do. The power of this fish was a new test for my fly reel’s drag. It jumped again, then dove deep, sending me scrambling around the boat following its maniacal runs.
Big blue dog! Note the wire bite guard. For this fish, that wire saved the day.
This fish had taken the fly well. The black nylon coating of the bite guard was stripped off near the snap swivel, the wire permanently crimped. And the fly was a twisted mess…
This clouser jig fly served well after being chomped and mangled by over a dozen blues. I retired it when the biggest of the bunch bent the hook and shank in a twisted mangle.
We fished a bit more but the wind really started to blow. Not only did this make for challenging casting, but Greg was starting to have a hard time holding the boat in position along the jetty. After over 2 hours on the water, we decided to call it a day and went back to the dock and on to a big breakfast at Mustache Bill’s Diner in Barnegat Light.
Day Two – fishing the dike on my own
I was up bright and early on the second day of my Memorial Day weekend at the New Jersey shore. I left the house at 0530, and headed to the dike near Barnegat Light. I had one rod with me this time – my 9 weight TFO BVK that I built myself.
TFO BVK 9 weight – custom built by yours truly…
I walked the eastern face of the dike and started by fishing the sod banks towards the tip of the dike. I had success here last year but with the wind blowing out of the east, casting was troublesome. As I rounded the tip, two anglers came crashing through a thicket on to the bank. They had been spin-fishing the bay side of the dike and had found some stripers there. I watched where they came out of the sedge island woods – a well-trod fisherman’s path led through the narrow wood, opening up on the beautiful bay.
I wandered the back, western side of the dike – a maze of tributaries, pools, sand, seagrass, and sod. Double Creek channel ran across its edge, creating a steep drop-off in places and sand shoals in others. I continued fishing an intermediate line but the current was flowing to fast for me to get the fly down. I soon changed to a fast sink-tip and missed a fish as my fly swung in the current. A little while later I got a solid hookset on a cocktail blue that fought 10 times larger than its size.
I continued to fish down the edge with the current and off a small cut in the sod bank, picked up my first striper, a schoolie full of piss and vinegar.
I fished the entire length of the dike’s back bay shoreline. At the end of it was a point where there was a nice rip and a good seam of slower water. I cast into the current and let my fly swing around into the slower water, then stripped it back. On my second cast I got a solid thump…
Beautiful schoolie…
I fought this fish out of the current and into the slack water behind the point. It was beautifully marked with close to perfect stripes. I removed the fly easily, then watched it disappear into the bay with a strong swipe of its tail, the perfect way to end the morning.
Day Three – fishing the dike with John
John and I drove out to High Bar Harbor and the entrance to the park, commonly referred to as “the dike”. It was daybreak and the wind was coming up from the west. We walked the inlet-side beach out to the sod banks at the tip of the dike. We were sheltered there – Meyer’s Hole was flat except for a breeze-rippled surface.
We hiked through a cut in the sedge island. Emerging from the dense scrub, we broke out onto the open salt marsh. There before us lay the salt marsh and beyond it, the inner bay, wide and blue. The marsh was a maze of tidal cuts, like river braids, where the bay’s flood and ebb had found weakness. We continued on to the edge of the salt marsh – to sod and sand. Double Creek channel swept by us as we cast from its edge, the wind blowing in our faces and freshening with the morning.
Looking east from the bay-side of the dike, with Old Barney and the inlet in the distance…
It was tough fishing early on. The strong ebb tide swept even John’s full sink line up and out of the current like it was gossamer thread. Despite our best efforts – shortened leaders, heavy sparse flies, casting up-current and mending – we could not get our flies deep. We walked down Double Creek channel until we came to a point in the sod bank where the channel tailed out. There was a nice rip at the point and a seam of slower water. I had scored a nice bass here the day before and told John we should focus our efforts there where the bass could hold in the softer water and intercept bait washed down the channel. Casting was also easier as the wind was now somewhat behind us. We watched a guide in a flats boat and his fly fishing client fish this area, validating that the spot was productive. Soon I picked up a small schoolie bass and then John too was fast to a fish, his rod bucking as he howled with delight. It was John’s first striper, a nice schoolie at that, and it truly made the day after such tough fishing early on.
John with a grin and his first striper…
Day 4 – fishing with Captain Greg
I had originally booked Monday, Memorial Day for a trip with Greg, cancelling the Friday before. I wound up keeping Monday’s booking based on the fishing over the weekend and hoping for more of the same.
Greg fired up the Fishhead early Monday morning and we motored through the grass-edged channel that led from the docks to the main channel. From there it was a quick run to the inlet and the north jetty. It was a different day, with lower winds predicted from the north. The inlet was again rough so we started fishing the north side of the north jetty.
The fishing started off slow. And from what could be seen, we weren’t the only ones with the skunk haunting us. On one drift I tried casting a Bob’s Banger popper over the wash while Greg took my sink-tip 10 weight outfit and cast a bit on his own. We fished, watched, and talked as we drifted and then Greg grunted as he hooked up to a good fish. The blue fought deep, the 10 weight’s deep bend – rod tip to the water, a testament to its size and strength.
Captain Greg with a gator…
We fished another hour along the rocks with nothing more to show. A friend of Greg’s had reported the day before that good fishing came later in the tide, so we went on the hunt to other places. The south jetty looked promising but again we had no luck. From there we fished the bay – a spot along sod banks where the tide ran strong. We cast smaller clousers now and the fishing reminded me of so many floats down rivers throwing streamers to the bank for browns.
I fished from the bow and laid out casts that kissed the sod bank. I’d pause and let my clouser sink deep off my sink tip line. Casting ahead as we drifted and mending allowed the fly to get deep and after a second drift my line came tight. The fish fought well and used the current for leverage. It was a nice schoolie striper – one of several we caught repeating the drift.
One of several schoolies caught drifting the sod banks… (Pic courtesy of Captain Greg Cudnik)
We checked out some other areas of the bay without results and then sped out to the inlet to see if the bite was on there. We worked the rocks for about an hour and noticed one angler in a boat in the inlet hooking up on conventional gear. He was casting a jigheaded swimbait, letting it sink and then jigging it deep. I did everything possible to get my fly as deep as possible to mimic what he was doing but the current was making it difficult. I switched to a sparsely tied heavy clouser hoping it might solve the problem and shortened the leader but none of these actions seemed to help. Finally, I removed the bite guard thinking just maybe the normally ferocious blues were leader-shy.
By 11 AM it was starting to look like nothing would happen despite a somewhat steady pick by some of the conventional fishermen around us. My trip with Greg would soon end, but I kept casting. Greg, ever the optimist, was sure we’d get into fish. He held the boat around the end of the jetty where the wash was best. A few strips in from a cast and suddenly I was into a gator. We watched him as he cleared the wash, fighting the fly. He went deep after that and a good battle ensued.
My 10 weight bows to a blue… (Pic courtesy of Captain Greg Cudnik)
Unfortunately, my earlier move to remove a bite guard came with some risk – a risk I came to face as the big blue broke off close to the boat, with only bitten-off tippet to show for it. I added a wire bite guard and we were soon back at it.
Greg kept positioning the boat along the rocks, and I got more follows and takes. I watched one nice blue swim aggressively out of the wash to my fly with another close by. Then another cast into the wash was rewarded with, as Greg refers to them, a “blue dog.”
Another big blue dog… (Pic courtesy of Captain Greg Cudnik)
The bite continued another 30 minutes or so with a mix of fish from gator down to cocktail blue size range. The day ended as Greg predicted, on a very strong note. We were all smiles as we made our way back to the dock.
In the past, I’ve fished Memorial Day at a favorite spot on the West Branch of the Delaware. But for the last two years, high water forced me to look elsewhere. Life has a way of playing us, where at first take, we’re disappointed that things have not gone our way, i.e., weather, water flows, “life”… On looking back, the early disappointment of high water turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Had it not been for high water, I may have never experienced and explored the great saltwater fly fishing we are fortunate to have so close to home. So I am ever grateful now to have two solid places to count on each Memorial Day for good fishing, reflection, and remembrance – the lovely West Branch of the Delaware and beautiful Barnegat Bay.