I plan my fishing trips.  I use satellite imagery, NOAA nautical charts, and lake maps.  I read guide books and articles that cover the areas I fish.  I review my on-the-ground photos and videos.  I take time of year, time of day, moon phase, tide, and current into consideration.  But!  Today I had the unexpected opportunity to fish for two hours.  No time to plan ahead of time.  I packed my surf fly gear and developed a plan en route.

I arrived at “spot x” at dead low tide.  The sun was starting to set.  The wind was “castable”.  I fished the first hour of the incoming tide with Lefty Deceivers that I tied on Owner Aki hooks: pink/white, blue/white, and yellow/white.  After sunset, I switched to a blurple Clouser Minnow with chartreuse eyes.  OMG.  After casting Lefty Deceivers for an hour, the Clouser Minnow felt so different.  The night was dark.  I could not see my line on my forward cast or my back cast.  I could not see my fly land on the water.  I was casting blind. Literally! I had to “feel” my cast.  So, I switched back to one of my Left Deceivers and fished for another hour of the incoming tide.

I forgot my bug repellent.  The Maine mosquitoes love my Azorean skin.  They literately bit me off the sand.  🙁  When I return to “spot x” (which is a wicked fishy fly spot), I will have some day time Clouser Minnows!  And bug repellent!!  Fish and mosquitoes beware!!!

I had the opportunity today to fish a new section of the Nashua River. Without the aid of electronics, I exploited old school techniques to read the water, identify structure, and measure the varying depths of this section. As the sun was rising, the trees on the East bank kept part of the water dark with their shadows. The “light transition” was quite pronounced. I started my trip by trolling a Surf Asylum blunt nose swimming plug along the light transition. BANG! Something hit the plug hard that my rod nearly came out of my Yak Attack rod holder!!!

A lip gripper, a de-hooker, and a pair of pliers were all required to release the aggressive chain pickerel. The Nashua River monster swam away. I paddled away without injury. 🙂

I made my way upstream and found some froggy water. I explored this area thoroughly with an array of frogs. Nothing. 🙁

I shifted gears to fishing the light transition with a my fish finding spinner bait. Nothing. 🙁 I switched over to a Mags Lures 3/8 oz swim jig dressed with a Gary Yamamotto grub. Fish on!!!

The chain pickerel weighed 2 oz less than the largemouth bass; but, it hit like a freight train and pulled three times harder than the bass! Two different species on the same trip and on the same pattern— now that’s something worth writing about! 😉

My go-to surf spots for chunking have not been producing as they once were. Instead of complaining and blaming things like poaching and global warming, I started to search for new fishy spots. Using NOAA nautical charts, satellite imagery, and my fishing network, I found three wicked fishy spots! I took my friend, Brad Dillman, a member of the Plum Island Surfcasters, out surf chunking for the first time to one of these spots during the incoming tide of the August new moon.

We started chunking at sunset. The first two hours was dead slow. I only got a short strike from an aggressive bluefish that swam away with the tail end of the eel that I harvested. I took this as a sign and switched from dead eels to mackerel.

While sitting on my bucket, I felt a subtle bite. I lowered the tip of my rod and reeled slowly to set the Owner 10/0 SSW inline circle hook. I felt a subtle head shake. I reeled in the fish. OMG! A monster scup attacked my tasty mackerel chunk. Good thing I had 18″ of double stranded 90 lb wire leader connected to a 200 lb Ande monofilament leader!! 😉

After the epic landing my monster scup, Brad switched over to mackerel. Fifteen minutes later, he felt a subtle bite. He lowered the rod I lent him and reeled in slowly to set the Owner 10/0 SSW inline circle hook. Fish on! The 10′ St. Croix Mojo Surf rod was fully arched. The drag of my ZeeBass ZX2-27 reel spooled with 400 yards of 50 lb braid slowed down the monster fish as it steadily swam with determination to line-cutting rocks. While keeping full pressure on the fish, Brad walked backwards. He was able to turn the fish. As he slowly walked back to water’s edge, he reeled in line with each step. At times, he literally could not move the fish; he could only hold on to the rod with all his might. This went on for fifteen minutes. When the fish was close, I pointed my light to the water to see what it was. Surprisingly, I could not see anything. Without warning, the fish turned it’s head and started to swim steadily off shore. All the line that Brad had gained was lost, and then some. Brad’s arms were exhausted. He handed me the rod.

When I felt the full weight of the fish, I yelled over to Brad “OMG! What did you hook?” I never felt anything like it before. I heard sounds of strain as the line was pulled off the spool and traveled through the guides. I fully expected the rod to snap at any time! When the fish finally stopped to take a respite, I walked backwards while keeping full pressure on the fish. I then walked forwards and reeled in line with each step. The fish was so big and powerful, I could not crank the reel by the knob on the handle; I had to palm the whole handle. The large gear in the ZeeBaas reel turned and put line back on the spool. Fifteen minutes later, I finally got the fish in close again. I pointed my light to the water to see what it was. Surprisingly, I could not see anything. No fin. No thrashing. Nothing. Without warning, the fish turned it’s head and started to swim steadily off shore. I held the rod firmly with exhausted arms while all the line that I gained was lost to a determined fish. This epic battle ended when the line went slack.

My ZeeBaas reel did not fail. The large gear put 39.5 inches of line on the spool with each crank. The smooth 40 lb drag kept the fish from swimming to the Azores. My St. Croix Mojo Surf rod, which was arched to it’s maximum, did not break. My bait rig did not fail. The Owner hook did not bend or break. So what failed? The main line: 50 lb braid. 🙁

During this epic mano-a-fish battle, the fish never surfaced. The runs were slow, steady, and determined. There was not even a single head shake! Based on this behavior, Andy Nabreski from On The Water and Roy Leyva from Shimano‘s Pro Staff, believe that this was a rough tail sting ray.

Photo Credit: NOAA

When I return to this spot, which I shall hence forth call “spot 50”, my main line will be 80 lb braid. Scup, bluefish, stripers, sharks, and rays beware! 😉