Originally appeared in Tail 34 – March/April 2018

By Joseph Albanese

This habitat can provide some of the best angling you are likely to encounter in the northeast, but there are some stars that need to align for that to happen. As the water is shallower, everything is magnified. The tidal stage, position and intensity of the sun, and even the color and composition of the bottoms’ importance is exaggerated. Typically, cordgrass is found in the low-lying areas and salt hay in the high marsh, providing cover for the young-of-the-year to grow. The exposed grasses offer overhead cover from terns, gulls, and wading birds. The emergent stalks afford crevices in which to hide from finned predators. But this protection is far from perfect, with certain conditions conspiring to leave these hapless creatures exposed. When this happens, the combination of bait and predators leads to a feeding frenzy of epic proportions. When these variables all line up, there is lights out fishing for hungry migratory striped bass.

I have found the magic number to be 64 degrees. The fishing has broken wide open when the water temperature hits that number, according to my logs. It seems to be just warm enough to stimulate their metabolism, but not warm enough to make them sluggish. The action seems to be white hot until the temperature hits 70 or so, although you can continue to catch fish in the back when periods of high tide coincide with dawn and dusk. There are usually a few days a month that can be productive even in the warmest months. You want to take advantage of the tail of the flood tide in the height of summer; those ocean currents bring in cooler water with gamefish floating in along with them. Fortunately, bluefish don’t mind these warmer temps, and can keep rods doubled over when the stripers are on a heat-induced hiatus.

Light is also important. In the dog days of summer, the noonday sun is almost sure to chase predatory fish to the sanctuary of deep water. The early season is an entirely different animal though, as water temperatures haven’t reached their seasonal peaks. Referring back to the magnifying effect of the shallow early season waters, temperature can change as much as ten degrees in a day, depending on the timing of the colder ocean waters rushing in. And no matter the month, nighttime is the right time. Gamefish, and stripers especially, take advantage of the light-gathering potential of their larger eyes and feed nocturnally. This feeding occurs at all phases of the moon, but I have had the best luck on the new and full. The new moon always seems to outperform the full, even though both have an equal effect on tidal heights. I can only hypothesize that the darkness afforded by the absence of the moon makes predators more reliant on other senses and they strike more often as a result.

Earlier I mentioned the substrate—that wasn’t for effect. As oyster and other mollusk shells decompose, they turn into a fine, dark sediment that combines with the existing bottom. This creates a dark mud that absorbs light energy more effectively than a sand bottom, or even a lighter colored mud bottom. These areas will heat up faster than the surrounding earth, and can be the first hotbed of activity in the early season. This knowledge can be used to the angler’s advantage when prospecting for areas of ideal temperature. Early in the spring, before the turbidity caused by boat propellers and the algae blooms of summer, visibility and therefore light penetration is good. Noting these areas is important, as early in the season a few yards can mean all the difference.

In stark contrast to the deeper waters of the Atlantic proper, most salt marshes are shallow; averaging four to six feet on all but the steepest of tides. As such, stealth is the key. You may be able to get away with a blaring radio in 90 feet of water, but that has no place in the marsh. Even the simple act of dropping something on deck can be enough to put the fish down. Your approach should be as cautious as possible, coming off plane well in advance of the area you plan to fish. If possible, turn your motor off without shifting out of gear and drift into place, as the clunking of your boat’s transmission is a proven way to scare fish. If you have a trolling motor or push pole, this is definitely the time to use it. Likewise, wading anglers will also benefit from a healthy dose of creep. While you don’t need the same surreptitious approach that is required by wary trout in chalk streams, you will benefit from some sneak, trying not to crush shells underfoot or dislodge clumps of dirt. Just be careful, as the mud seems bottomless in spots.

Tide stage is of the utmost importance. Someone once said there are two good times to go fishing: when it’s raining and when it’s not. This is true to a degree; you can’t catch them on the couch and you have to make the most of your opportunities. But to put up big numbers in the marsh, you need to time the tide almost perfectly. I have found that under most circumstances, the best time to fish the salt meadows is an hour before the peak of high, staying until you run out of water. The exception to this rule is a moon tide, when the water rises far enough above the grass that the stripers are no longer confined by the channel edges and can fan on top of usually dry grass in pursuit of baitfish. This is not to say you won’t pick up a fish here and there, you just won’t connect like you will when the high marsh starts to drain, concentrating food sources in the deeper channels as the creeks empty.

While most of these fish will be in the 22- to 32-inch class, there are opportunities to tangle with some truly outsized bruisers in single-digit depths. You should match your tackle to the size of the fish you’ll likely encounter, with a little extra backbone in case you do battle with a heavyweight. While you’re not dealing with rocks or bridge abutments, there are plenty of structures for fish to break you off on: old pilings, pieces of scuttled vessels, and any number of manmade objects conspiring to break your line. A nine or 10-weight will serve you well, as they can punch bulky poppers into a headwind and have enough oomph if you do happen to find yourself connected to a larger specimen. This is an instance where you will want a reel with a solid drag. I used a Pflueger Medalist for years, applying pressure to the spool to stop extended runs, but the abundance of sealed-drag reels on the market negates the need for such practices. As the water is shallow here, a floating line is best, but a slow-sinking intermediate will work. I used to bother with tapered leaders, but no longer. I run six to 10 feet of 15-pound fluorocarbon. If the fish are finicky, I’ll tie my own leader with a six-foot butt of 15-pound and a three-foot tippet of eight or 10 pounds.

As far as flies go, I prefer top water stuff. Nothing is more exciting than watching a 30-inch fish smash a hunk of feathers being pulled across the surface. The Gartside Gurgler is a fantastic choice, as it moves a ton of water and is very easy to cast. Hard-body poppers are a close second, with deer hair divers also in the mix. I don’t often use subsurface flies, but I will throw a crab pattern every now and then. These are particularly useful dead-drifted in the earliest part of the season, as the naturals are lethargically emerging from the mud and other bait types haven’t arrived yet. Clouser minnows and deceivers are also good choices, but I only resort to them when I know fish are around but I can’t coax them to the surface. Toss Clousers when thin-profile baits such as sand eels and spearing are present, turning to Deceivers when wider species such as menhaden dominate the forage base. As far as retrieves go, I always start gentle. If finesse doesn’t produce, I’ll ratchet it up a bit, creating louder pops. Don’t be afraid to cast to the same spot a few times, sometimes you can get an aggravated strike from a fish that may not like your fly.

The shoulder seasons of the spring and the fall are ideal for cashing in some explosive fishing in these exciting expanses of water interspersed with grassy shoals. Most of the pleasure boaters haven’t put their boats in yet, or have already taken them out, so you’ll have some solitude. There may be some additional challenges posed by the shallow depths, but the rewards are made just that much sweeter. Sixty fish tides are well within the realm of possibility with a little bit of planning and forethought. Take care to note the conditions, and make your fishing plans accordingly. You may have to use a sick day; time and tide wait for no man, as the old truism notes. If you can line up all of these variables, you can take part in some of the best fishing you’ll likely experience—or at least some of the most exciting. Fair winds and tight lines.

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The post Salt Marsh Secrets first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Salt Marsh Secrets appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

(originally published in Tail #30 – July/August 2017)

Humans, like fish, are fickle creatures. We have certain proclivities and idiosyncrasies, both defined and obtuse. There are some things we can take, and some things that we just can’t.

I love to fish, but a banana in my boat will ruin the day – regardless of my client’s protests or potassium deficiency. “Hop in that guy’s boat, then,” I say, not willing to give the banana a chance. Why do I have such a vendetta against water-borne bananas? If I knew, I’d tell you. It’s just one of my ‘things’.

Bonefish and tarpon have their ‘things’. Rockfish and other cold salt species have a few. Permit are the very definition of ‘picky’, but you already knew that. When it comes to fish handling and sensitivities specific to particular species, it pays to do your homework. Many proactive fishing handling practices can be applied across species to great effect; others are only impactful to a handful of taxa. Below are guide-tested guidelines for minimizing angling’s impact on caught fish in various marine environments. The more suggestions you’re able to employ, the better poised we’ll be to support sportfishing’s longevity.

Tarpon (Megalops genus)

This big-eyed denizen of the flats is numero uno on most anglers’ bucket list. Capable of incredible runs, tarpon are famed for long fights and breaking hearts. If you have to ask yourself whether you spooled up enough backing before a tarpon trip, the answer is going to be ‘not even close’. Despite tarpons’ size and power, the IGFA maintains records for fish caught on tippet down to the #2 class. That record? 106 pounds, zero ounces. That fish? Not in good shape after landing. While there isn’t any credible record of the fight time, landing a fish of that magnitude (in any sort of real ‘sporting’ manner) on #2 tippet would require total exhaustion on the fish’s part. Total exhaustion opens the door for now-incentivized predators, including bulls and hammerheads waiting for an easy meal. Considering the state of many of our fisheries, fishing adequately-rated tippet is the least we can do as anglers. It’s important to learn to gauge a tarpon’s exhaustion during the fight. It takes practice, but it’s worth the effort. If you’re able to approximate how tired the fish is (an inexact science, certainly), you can know when it’s time to put the wood to ‘em without breaking off or ending up with a damaged fish on the line.

Bonefish (Albula genus)

Bonefish reside in temperate waters worldwide, though most are found near the tropics. The species most often targeted by North American anglers, Albula vulpes, is the quintessential flats fish: smart, spooky, and built for speed. For those who have brought bonefish to hand, their defining characteristic is something less romantic. A thick coating of mucus covers the fish from stem to stern, making them exceedingly hard to hold onto, a helpful trait in predator-filled waters. This slime layer also plays a similar role to the mucus found on most fish, acting as a protective barrier against parasites and pathogens. The slime contains antibodies, antimicrobial peptides, and enzymes that actively break down pathogens that would otherwise attack the fish, though the exact composition varies from species-to-species. When a bonefish’s slime is removed by rough handling or other abrasion, it’s less able to repel these ne’er-do-wells. Keeping hands wet and fish away from clothing is the best way to prevent slime loss when releasing bonefish. Gunnel rails don’t do much for slime, either. Bonefish that don’t calm down after being brought to hand can be charmed into submission by turning them over onto their backs as the hook is being removed, ideally leaving the fish’s gills below the waterline during the process.

Anecdotal evidence suggests that predators cue in on fish whose slime barrier has been damaged. The guides that I spoke with in the Keys suggested that removing a bonefish’s slime releases a scent that sharks interpret as that of a wounded fish. Wounded fish make an easy meal, and you can actually see sharks change direction as they pick up on the smell. While important for all species, preventing slime loss is of special importance for bonefish.

Rockfish (Sebastes genus)

With such ‘A list’ species being tackled in this article, rockfish seem strange to include. The fact of the matter is that rockfish are a blast to catch and can be found in both the Pacific and Atlantic. Rockfish typically dwell at greater depths around rocky outcroppings and subsurface structure. Anglers targeting rockfish are often fishing at depths greater than 30 feet, and sometimes much deeper. Bringing rockfish up from these depths too quickly creates an extreme pressure differential on the fish’s organs, causing distended bowels and bulging eyeballs. Acute barotrauma, as this is known, is often lethal. While rockfish sportfisheries are typically catch-and-keep, bag and slot limits mean that anglers should still be treating caught fish with enough care that they survive the event. If a fish is exhibiting signs of acute barotrauma upon landing, it’s possible to reverse the effects by using a descending device. The descending device lowers the fish back down to depths with greater atmospheric pressure, allowing organs to revert to their normal state. Descending devices can be made with milk crates or inverted, weighted jig hooks. They can also be bought from many fly and tackle shops, but that’s not nearly as fun. ‘Fizzing’ is still en vogue in some bass fisheries, though the practice has been found to do more harm than good. A misplaced fizzing needle can easily cause organ damage, and the residual wound offers an entrance point for pathogens.

Striped Bass (Morone saxatilis)

“Lipping” bass is an age-old pastime, and it’s easy to see why. Bass are feisty, and the mouth seems like the most appropriate place to hold onto the fish’s business end while removing the hook. And, in reality, it probably is. In order to hold the fish still enough for hook removal (and to prevent self-injury), lipping the fish is often best bet if you don’t have access to a fish cradle, with one express caveat: you need to use your other hand to support the fish’s weight. Stripers are objectively big, and even larger when compared to some of their warmwater cousins. They’re built for life underwater and can’t support their own mass above the surface. Held by the lip exclusively, the fish’s organs are oriented vertically and gravity takes over. Lacking the internal support of land animals, the bass’ organs are ‘squished’ and can be irreparably damaged. The (much) better option is to use your other hand to support the fish’s weight, being sure to avoid squeezing too tightly. Milt and eggs are both delicate and can be affected by overzealous hands. If you have access to a cradle, use it. Pike cradles have the size needed to handle larger stripers and, when used properly, allow for hook removal while the fish’s gills are still in the water. The bigger the striper, the more imperative it becomes to help avoid organ damage by applying these alternative techniques.

Different strokes for different folks. With such variation in the species we catch, it’s only natural that there is variation in the ways caught fish should be landed and handled. Tarpon are not rockfish. Hell, tarpon aren’t bonefish, either. Recognize each of your target species’ needs and proclivities; it’ll make you a better angler and a better steward, guaranteed.

The post Playing Proclivities first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Playing Proclivities appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

(originally published in Tail #30 – July/August 2017)

Chasing yellowtail kingfish is as challenging as it gets. They are apex predators, and at a special time of year they roam the flats of New Zealand tearing ferociously through baitfish schools like nothing you’ve ever seen, offering ample opportunities to catch them on a fly rod.

For years, I had been talking to Alex Waller about heading to New Zealand to experience the mayhem and see firsthand what Alex and his crew had going on with their tag-and-release kingfish program. I talked my good friend Ben into tagging along and we packed our gear and jumped on the big metal bird for a short three hour flight.

After landing and packing the car full of gear, we hit the road for the next six hours. The drive was remarkable: the New Zealand countryside is breathtaking, with huge rolling mountains and crystal clear rivers. We felt like we had stepped off the plane and straight into Jurassic Park, thankfully minus the dinosaurs.

Once we had crossed the mountain range and had the flats in our sights in the distance, we were like fat kids in a cake shop. We made it to the cabin just as dusk approached, and it was time to go through the usual ritual, pulling all the gear out and spending the night rigging up for the week’s adventures. After catching up over a few Sailor Jerrys and getting everything ready to go, it was lights out. The next morning couldn’t come fast enough and we were all up after less than five hours of sleep. After a few cups of strong coffee and some cigarettes, we jumped in Alex’s whip and headed to the flats as light came over the long sandy straits of Golden Bay, the anticipation building with the rising sun.

We were armed with 9 and 10-weight rods loaded with floating lines, and Alex was nice enough to bring us to one of his favorite spots first thing in the morning. As the tide started to roll out, we made our way into the water and onto the flat, looking for stingrays flapping their broad wings over the sand, leaving muddy trails behind them. The kingfish are known to follow the stingrays as they feed, because the stingrays stir up extra baitfish and crabs, providing a potentially easy meal. Upon spotting a ray, we had to move quickly across the flat and make as long of a cast as possible. Sometimes with the wind you have to make the shot really fast; once the rays see you, they are off like a light and you can say goodbye to any kingfish behind them. When it all comes together and you see three or four green backs swimming aggressively towards you in a meter of water while hunting down your fly, you know it’s going to be fish on. The fastest fish hits the fly hard and fast, and the next 25 to 40 minutes are pure mayhem.

Upon getting a fish to hand, it was time to tag and release it. Alex and his friend Paul Mills from Revolution Fly Fishing New Zealand established a great tagging program, wanting more information about where these fish went, what they were doing once they left the flats, and how far they were traveling before being recaptured (or whether they stayed in the same general location). This was a truly valuable part of our experience on the trip. With over 150 kingfish tagged and released (at the time of writing) and 10 fish recaptured and released to fight another day, the project is a great way to learn more about these bruisers and assist in conservation efforts.

After spending a few days roaming the flats in search of these predators, it was clear that the guys had stumbled across something that would keep anglers coming back year after year. The fishing is amazing, but the backdrop that surrounds it–from green mountain ranges to the vast flats–makes this place a small piece of heaven, and provides an experience that will stick with you. After a few crazy encounters with these “hoods,” it was clear to me how much angling ability and fitness plays into it. Running through waist deep water just to get close enough to the rays and get your shot at a fish is very physically challenging, but provides for some insane fishing moments that won’t be forgotten.

After a few days of great conditions and even better fishing, the weather gods decided to rain down on our party. The temperature dropped over 10 degrees and it rained non-stop for three straight days. We had few other options, so it was off to the local pub to take over the pool tables and pass the time. The next day, we awoke to 25-plus mile per hour winds and strong rains. With relatively low expectations, we packed up the gear and headed out to the flats, just to see how bad the conditions really were. Sleeping in could have been a better option. The water had turned over and it was muddy as hell. Since we were already out, we headed over the range to a remote little bay with some sheltered flats and bays that looked fishy.

We pulled up to some cool looking water, and as the tide turned and the water started to move, we could see schools of baitfish getting harassed by kingfish. We couldn’t believe our luck as we pulled the gear out. We put some flies in the water, and within a few minutes had raised a few fish and felt better about our chances. Ben got lucky and got the first eat to break the skunk, and we managed a few more fish in some pretty poor conditions. We spent the last hours of the tide casting at the local kahawai, all while enjoying a few beers and some laughs about the ups and downs of the week.

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The post Tag, You’re It! first appeared on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.

The post Tag, You’re It! appeared first on Tail Fly Fishing Magazine.