C.S.A. Fall Cuttyhunk Trip

Martha's Vineyard in the Distance

After my first trip, I would have to say that Cuttyhunk is a paradox of sorts. The island is beautiful, a small town tucked into the hill side where nearly every house has an ocean view. To go along with this same theme, this island is for fishermen, even the church has a Striped Bass on its roof. You tread lightly but are free to roam as you please, fishing anywhere you like. The paradox to this image of a fisherman's paradise is that when you step to the edge of the water it is literally the most rugged, slippery terrain you can imagine and worse. No two rocks fit together or the same size, they're uneven, some shaped like road cones, covered in grease & thick bubble weed, or the rocks just move from under your feet. That being said, it is this same difficulty that gives you a sense of accomplishment. It is now Friday (A week later) and my body still aches of over 20 hours of fishing in two days, Friday was the "easy" night with gentle surf and almost no wind, Saturday night the surf couldn't have been much bigger. Regardless, the experience that infects you is the time shared with good people. The men and women I fished with this weekend, roomed with, and talked/joked with; made for an experience I'll share with my children (when that happens).

Artwork by: Tricia Mansfield

 The Cuttyhunk rocks qualify as something different to everyone, but if you have seen them or have walked across them, it is unforgettable.  Here, in Tricia Mansfield's painting, you can see one of the large car-sized rocks.  This particular rock sits in front of the Cuttyhunk Fishing Club and was used for a bass-stand, since that time, the stand has been rebuilt and destroyed once again from Hurricane remnants.  Mansfield's incredible artwork is centered around New England themes and you can view work by following this link, Tricia Mansfield. 
In 1864 a group of 7 New York Businessmen (both millionaires & sportsmen in those days) sailed to Cutty on a ship named  the "Theresa" as they were looking for a location to establish a new fishing club that would replace their old club at Sakonnet Point in Rhode Island.  These business men obviously saw the potential of the island and purchased huge tracts, on which they first established the Cuttyhunk Fishing Association, later to be called the Cuttyhunk Fishing Club.  Since its opening, guests at the Cuttyhunk fishing club have included Presidents Grover Cleveland and William Taft, railroad tycoon Jay Gould, and Standard Oil President J.D. Archbold.  However in the early 1900's the club's allure and attendance dropped.  Today, you can go see or stay in the club which includes a museum, and literally walk where our past presidents walked.  The club and several other establishments on the island have been undergoing a facelift.  I believe a portion of this is due to a wonderful two-page spread in Surfcaster's Journal Online Magazine, which at the moment is still free.  If you have not read S.J. do so, it is an experience all in itself.  Follow the link for their free online magazine; or from the same link you can choose to view their blog (by Zeno Hromin).  Surfcaster's Journal

Wooden Lures Hang to Dry-Out

GETTING TO CUTTYHUNK, MA
If you are wondering "How Do I get to Cuttyhunk?"  I have an answer for you.  SWIM!  No, that would be crazy, do not do that, instead call the Cuttyhunk Ferry company or the MV-CH Water Taxi.  The ferry has a schedule which you can book ahead of time, either one-way or round trip tickets can be purchased via tele or online, luggage is extra at two dollars an item, parking is ten bucks a night & is at the ferry location (nice, very nice).  Parking is also a short walk to/from the water taxi as well. 
The water-taxi operates differently: you should secure at least 5 travelers to get your ticket price down to $35 for a one way ticket (bags free).  Otherwise the total cost to run the boat will be on you.  If you can do this with your travel party I suggest you take the opportunity as the boat's operator is a great guy, or call the water-taxi company and leave a message as they will call back and leave a message about who's going to be on it, what the sea's are like, and when the Pat's game starts (if you like the Pat's).

Ropes to Cleats:

After stepping off the 9am ferry, I walked alongside Mike (trip organizer) up towards Pete's place. I knew this Island was special from how everyone was describing it, and Mike's words further solidified these thoughts in my mind. He said you can catch a lot of fish here, or you can grind it out in spots and really catch a big fish. After a brief tour of the cottages, Mike departed. As I started to setup some rods Aram said hello as did Kevin, and they said you are fishing with us. We walked to the market to register and hashed out a game-plan to be geared up to begin our walk out at 4:30-5:00. To keep our minds calm before a certain long night of fishing we took a stroll over to the bass club and found ourselves sitting in some ADK chairs on top of the bluff overlooking clear blue water. Spirits were running high, and Aram said "I bet we could catch some fish right here, right now." Not 30 seconds later, right at the edge of the rocks a bass blew up the surface. So Aram and I ran back to the house, put on a bathing suit, cleats and grabbed a couple lures and went fishing. No such luck but it was nice to get a feel for the rocks and see how they were staggered in the daylight.

Gametime:

The Connecticut Surfcasters Association take on The Cuttyhunk Rod and Gun Club in the 16th Annual Cuttyhunk Open.

Kevin, Aram, Doug and I made our way out hoping to get in on the sunset bite. Aram told me to get on his rock from the night before, adding something to the effect of consider yourself lucky. After I put on my korker sandals I noticed another member of our group, Jim, was fishing right there and did not want to wade through his spot. So I took a rock behind Kevin. From 600 feet away Aram saw this, immediately came in from a rock he was already on and gave me a spread-arm what gives?  As he reclaimed his perch, I started casting subsurface to get a feel for the current, we had a decent right to left swing but it wasn't really cranking. I tossed a light spook at first but was not getting any response, and switched to a SS little neck popper. Two cranks missed a hit, next cast, small bass. Next cast I slowed my retrieve and set the hook on a good fish. The drag started screaming with line peeling off the spool. The fish ran hard to the left and I turned around and saw Rob, and gave him a look like I don't know what this is. As it got close it swam right in front of me and I saw its tail in the water and knew it was a bluefish, a good blue but still I thought I had a big bass. After the sunset we were into fish on roughly every third cast, at one point I watch Aram hook-up, Kevin hook up, myself hook up, turned and looked down the beach and saw nearly all rods bent over or lights on along the shoreline.
I can't remember if the bite died, slowed, or we were all just thinking that we needed a break, but we joined Jim on his custom log bench to regroup. I do know that my Darter was now hitting bottom as the tide had gone out considerably, and this was not a good thing. We all decided to make a move. On the walk, Aram had to make a phone call in one of the only spots with a signal and we continued ahead. Jim and Kevin took their places in the surf, then Aram caught up and beat me into the water as well while I was trying to get my gear back on after a bathroom break (slow when you have a wetsuit on). I could see all three guys from where I was on the beach and looked at how the waves were breaking, and to me what appeared to be the deepest water next to shallow water. Shin deep, I waded for about 100' and climbed up on a not-so-flat rock, clipped my SS darter back on and sent it out. My next ten casts were all hit, preschoolie, middleschoolie, highschoolie, keepah, then I got into a decent fish. Took me straight out, then I felt him smack his face into a rock and the line went limp. My heart sank, reeled down hard to try to get a feel again, as I caught up to something which felt like just the lure, the line went limp again and had to reel hard to catch up. I turned my spot light on because to my right was a barnacle boulder field with gaps of water in-between which flooded my mind with a new kind of nervous. As I followed my line with my headlamp, all I could think was there is no way I'll be able to "chase" this fish. The light stopped at the water where the line was and the fish was taking me behind a rock. I put the rod over my head to keep my line over the rock and literally that saved a break-off. Finally getting the fish in I pulled it up next to my rod and marked it's length before letting it go. Which was a good thing too, like Toby Lapinski of the Fisherman has said before if you have to go in to measure a fish, or weigh it, or keep it, you are probably missing the bite. On my next cast I landed another high teen bass. On shore I asked Jim for his tape and we measured 41" along my rod which would somehow stand up for the striped bass lure category for the tournament. The bluefish I caught did not stand up as the Cutty R&G club had a 36" blue. The remainder of the night we all fished the shoreline until 3a.m. with maybe a handful of hits or catches, Kevin and I fished live or rigged eels after my fish to attempt to get something in this category but I certainly did not even get a sniff. Saturday around two I took the fly-rod out to see if I could muster up a decent bass but only caught two snapper b's one of which clamped down on my thumb just to top off the pain the island can dish out. Overall friday night I landed 14 or 15 bass & 2 bluefish. Saturday I caught a 6" chicken scratch bomber (lure) during a cast in 7 or 8 hours of fishing, and no fish. My hat is off to Kevin, Aram, Doug, and Jim for their help and being my guides for my first CH trip & my first wetsuit experience.  I would have to say that even if you do not intend to go deep with the wetsuit, it is much safer, warm, and a comfort to know that you can't fill it up with water like waders.

Cuttyhunk Open Awards - Photo Credit: Essex Ed, link to gallery http://essexed.smugmug.com/

 The awards for the tournament kicked off with an oyster, clam, and shrimp pate raw bar.  Followed by amazing clam choder & cheese platter, burgers and dogs on the grill, oh yes and free beer.  After dinner, four categories would be awarded. Striped Bass for Lure, Striped Bass on Bait, & Striped Bass on Fly rod, and Bluefish (all tackle).  My 41" fish was not the biggest of the trip however it was the biggest during the tourney, taking the Striped Bass Lure prize.  I received a stainless beer mug engraved "16th Cuttyhunk Open Striped Bass Lure" with two plugs and a C.S.A. sticker!  The four winner's names were then placed back into a hat along with one name from the general audience for the grand-prize drawning of a guided boat charter from a Cuttyhunk guide.  My luck did not run out as my name was selected and I gladly took the prize and cannot wait to use it when I return to the island.

Unfortunately during my friday night fishing outting, my camera turned on in my bag and recorded enough darkness to run the battery dead, so I do not have any fish pictures.  I encourage you to take a look at Kierran's blog post on Cuttyhunk from a trip he took earlier in the year. Kierran is the author of The Connecticut Yankee : he has an excellent write-up on the island and some great shots of fish & the incredible scenery.

See you out there!

The Striped Bass Blues

I apologize for the tardy post, but I am glad to have waited for the feeling to come back into my arms after catching a good number of large fish and the technique of enticing them.

Wednesday, 8-17-2011: I had a lot to do at work both in the office and the field before I could get to the boat that I was told would be leaving at 4:01PM whether I was there or not.  My day started in Middletown finishing my office work at 11:00AM, then I sped down to Milford, CT to stakeout as much of a retaining wall as possible before I had to leave to make the boat.  I left at 2:45 from Milford to give myself a little elbow room since I95 is a crap-shoot on any given day, not to mention I had seen CT DOT patching potholes on I91 Northbound locking traffic up for miles.  I made it to Old Saybrook, CT at Between the Bridges marina by 3:40PM and grabbed my fishing pliers and some outerwear in case of rain or wind, but the day grew quite warm at 86F.  

The boat we were going out on was Art Scoville's, who owns a landscaping business in Cromwell, CT.  He fishes the sound often and knows exactly what he is doing and where to go for the best shot at big fish.  His fishing background is strong with first place and top ten finishes for the LIS bluefish derby held every year.  One year he won a boat worth around 25,000 dollars, which he promptly sold to buy the boat he uses now.

  

Phil O'Brien (Left), Art Scoville (right)

As I walked onto the dock there was a tall man maybe 6'6" tall, walking my way with a smile on his face, my boss Phil yelled to me, "Matt that is Marty, Art's friend."  Marty reached his hand out to shake mine and said, "Hi Matt!"  I shook his hand and said, "Marty, pleasure to meet you."  I continued to the boat which was nice, a 26' lobster style boat with a 300 John Deere diesel engine, the same style a lot of guide boat services use.  As I stepped into the boat, Art was prepping his Captain's chair, before sitting down and turning the key.  Art and I exchanged hellos as he moved to the back of the boat to unhook the rear dock lines.  Marty returned, and Art asked him to get the front line, no time wasted sitting around, we were off.  We motored across the CT river just south of I95 and north of the Amtrak or possibly Metro North railroad bridge to fuel up.  After fuel, we motored down river and noticed bait breaking the surface which were schools of peanut bunker, named this because they are adolescent.  By 4:30 we turned the corner at the end of the breakwall lighthouse which marks the end of the CT river and the beginning of LIS. 

Bucktail and Parachute Jigs

On our approach to the first spot, Art asked me if I had fished wire before, reffering to the type of lines on the reel.  I replied, "Not since last year," and Art returned, "Ok I'll let it out for you, or Marty will because it's tricky and once it gets messed up that's it."  I handed him one of the rods, as he powered down the boat to a fast troll, the speed helps get the lure out without it snagging bottom.  Art and Marty let Parachute Jigs with "Uncle Josh red pork rinds" out for the first "drop".  The setups where six and half to seven foot jigging rods, with Penn conventional reels, a staple reel for most saltwater fishermen.  The heavy jigs were attached to 80 to 100 lb test florocarbon leaders, with about six inches of wire just ahead of them in case bluefish are around so the line doesn't get cut.  The leader material was then attached by a Bimini Twist to the wire line which is wound onto the reel at a specific length to troll the lure at a specific depth, in this case we wanted to run around 20' depth.  Marty's line was out first, then Art handed the setup to me and said Marty will show you how to work it.  

Phil hooked into a Bluefish

Marty was holding the rod like a canoe paddle, his left hand placed on the butt of the rod, and using his right hand with an overhand grip of the line and the rod about eight inches ahead of the reel.  I fumbled for a minute because my grips had to be reversed as I was standing on the opposite side of the boat.  Marty said, "Hold the rod just like this," pointing the butt about shoulder height with the tip just above the water, "And jig it, if you feel the bottom, swing the rod tip up above your head so you don't snag."  This is a serious workout, it is exactly like paddling in a canoe race trying to make the jig dance at the end of your line.  Just as I got the technique down, Art yelled "I'm marking a lot of fish below the boat," and within 30 seconds Marty hooked up with the first fish.  As Marty worked the fish in and we watch the line rise to the surface, and Art said, "Bluefish, has to be," and we all watched a good sized blue break the surface.  Art netted and release the fish as fast as possible to get us on the next drop.  

Marty nets one for Phil

My boss Phil stepped up to the rod for the next drop, and as soon as the lines were out he hooked up with the next fish.  We boated a Striper just short of 28", the legal size for keepers.  As the fish flopped on the deck, Phil hooted, "Matt! When are you going to catch one!"  I laughed, and said, "I'm next."  The striper got a head first toss back into the drink and Art yelled, "OK drop 'em."  This time he did a circle in the opposite direction towards my side of the boat, and I changed my technique to short jigs and as soon as I did I got a solid hit.  "Fish On!" I yelled to Art, and he slowed up.  The fish took out about 80' of line and stayed deep, Art was getting excited and said, "Looks like a good striper," adding, "Matt, don't worry about how the line wraps onto the reel, just reel it in."  The fish stayed deep, with big head shakes, we were all expecting a good sized striper, but as the fish came into view it was another bluefish.  As I had the leader back onto the rod, I backed up and Phil put the net on a 15lb bluefish.  With the fish in the boat, Art came back and said, "Now, that is a beautiful blue fish, but that's not what we want."  I agreed, we were after stripers, and were stuck in a vortex of bluefish.  Three more drops produced three more fish, all blues.  Art said OK we know what's here, let's try a different spot.

We motored for a little while and Art brought up something I was expecting to hear at some point during the trip, "This is right around where that guy caught that 82lb bass."  Only a few weeks back, a local angler Greg Myerson hooked and landed an 81.88lb striped bass which if accepted by the IGFA (International Game Fish Association) will become the new world record striped bass.  "What would you do if you caught a fish that big?" Art asked as he looked across the horizon searching for signs of bait or bass welling near the surface.  Art continued before anyone could answer, "I mean that is a beautiful fish, and all these other fishermen just make up stories about it."  I said, "I can't stand that," Art interjected, "They're jealous," I continued, "That is one awesome fish, I'm happy for Greg, and best part is he's from Connecticut and a Sox fan!"  We all laughed, then Art powered down and said, "Get ready."  First drop, second spot.  Marty brought the first blue aboard, then I had the next two, then Phil brought one up, and I said to Art,  "We've got the Striper Blues."  "You are damn right we do!" Art replied.  OK, next spot.

First drop, third spot.  Long troll. Nothing. 

Back to the first spot, because there was one Striper in the mix, Art said we are approaching the "magic hour" referring to the best time of day to catch a striper.  Slack tide, sun setting on the horizon.  Phil asked if the bass were smarter than the blues.  Marty tilted his head disagreeably, "They are both opportunistic feeders, Bass, especially the big ones are lazy."  Art shouted from the front, "Gotta catch 'em in the mouth."  Marty agreed, "Yah the bait's got to be," and he dangled his hand in front of his face, "Right, Here."  Phil and I laughed, and I said, "Yep, lazy fish, and extra lazy today."  First drop, first spot on the second approach.  Bluefish.  Bluefish.  Bluefish.  Marty found another short bass.  Bluefish, and some more bluefish.  Harry Houdini must have turned off the magic for this hour.  Discouraged by all the blue fish, fifteen in all but good sized around 10-15lbs each, and just two stripers, Art asked if we should call it.  Phil agreed, I agreed for Phil's sake (he needs his sleep), Marty reluctantly agreed because we agreed, and Art said, "As long as we agree."

Twilight on Long Island Sound

On the way back in, Marty and Art talked in the cabin, and Phil and I sat in chairs watching the twilight sky and talked about how special it is to be able to do something like this.  Phil said, "It's all right here, in Connecticut, when you think of the ocean you think of Florida or the Caribbean, but it's all here."  I said, "When you have a chance to do something cool like this, always take it," Phil nodded, as I continued, "And tomorrow, we will have that burn in our arms ... a little reminder that we fought fish."