Angling Publications - Index

Angling Publications - Fly Fish America - September 2007 Issue - Index

48
No whiners on
the beach, please.
keep going as far as I can. The fi sh may be
up current from the bar, they may be at the
point of the bar, or they may be down current
from it. I never know until I fi sh them.
Once the tide turns, I'll work my way back
toward shore. I'm comforted knowing that
Land Ho isn't far away, but I always stay out
longer than I should . . . just because.
Bull-nose bars are rounded and look
like an upside-down letter U. I fi nd them
easy to fi sh, as they typically don't go very
far out into the ocean. Sometimes the fi sh
hold in the lee, other times they feast on
the windward side. I smile when I see the
trough where the rounded edge of the bar
connects with the beach. I always make my
fi rst cast onto the bar and let my fl y sweep
over the edge into the hole. I catch enough
Keer
fi sh there to make it worth a cast, but I really
like the sweep of the fl y over the sand
and into the deeper water. And when the
fi sh are tight to the beach, I don't have to
cast much further than my feet.
I fi nd it incredibly frustrating when a
large school of fi sh is a few hundred yards
offshore. I feel stranded on my beach.
I lose my mind when they are ten feet
beyond my furthest cast. On those days
the sparkling water or having the beach to
myself isn't much of a consolation prize.
All that is left for me to do is wait for the
wind to blow the fi sh closer or to look for
washed up lobster buoys and nail them to
a tree in my front yard.
With the bad comes the good, and some
anglers are fortunate enough to encounter
Yes, they did. Go Sox!
"When I see a school of blues or albies racing down a beach spraying silversides all around I feel like I'm in Vegas. And when I land a fi sh with my feet
pelagic species on the beach in the fall.
Anywhere the Gulf Stream pushes close to
shore, fast fi sh like bonito, false albacore,
bluefish and Spanish mackerel appear.
When I see a school of blues or albies racing
down a beach spraying silversides all around
I feel like I'm in Vegas. And when I land a
fi sh with my feet planted on terra fi rma, I
feel like I hit the jackpot.
An oddity happened on a Massachusetts
South Shore beach a few years ago
when the water was warm and there were
lots of school bluefi n tuna around. A fellow
was casting when he got a tug on his
line. A fi sh made a long-as in 300 yard
or more-run down the beach, past rocks,
kelp and mussel beds before it tired. After
the fi ght he rolled the fi sh on its side,
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