Stripers

Stripers

I can’t say enough good things about Striped Bass.  I grew up near Narragansett Bay and Rhode Island’s "South County" beaches.  These are famed striper waters, but my youth corresponded to the one time in history (and post-glacial pre-history, too) when the stripers were absent from these waters.  And even if they weren’t totally physically absent (the sharpies who frequented Murat’s Tackle Shop and such still caught a few cows), they were in actuality totally absent from my youth.  I never caught one, touched one, or saw one.  I think my Dad died without ever having caught one, too, although the surf sticks in the basement and a couple of stories indicated that he would have liked to.

Stripers came to me later in life.  My wife’s from Maine; she grew up practically on the water.  Changes in circumstances allowed easy access to the family home starting in the late 1990’s; and we started vacationing there.  From the local paper, I could see that there were stripers to be caught; but I had images from my youth of long rods, heavy lures, waders, and fishing at night.  I didn’t have those tools or inclinations, and I didn’t think my slice of bay was “striper water.”  And so I missed another couple of years of this good friend’s company.

The local fishing I knew was for Atlantic Mackerel; and these were fun enough when they made their sporadic appearances.  They fought better than trout on light tackle with spoons, there was a frantic pace to their pursuit and capture, and they’re stunningly beautiful, vibrant fish.  The occasional horse would get pretty big, too, so I didn’t mind (and still don’t) fishing for them.   And then one morning in August, 2000, The Explosion took place.  I was reeling in a mackerel I’d just hooked, and it got obliterated at the surface by an unseen predator.  Somehow, the tiny treble on my Kastmaster found some flesh; and my gear (light spinning rod, borrowed reel, 6-pound test) and I were both tested to our limits.

The fish (still unidentified) should have gotten away, multiple times.  I was fishing from a fixed position; my bay is a mine field of moorings, anchor lines, lobster pots and pilings.  The drag was light enough, the line was old enough, this fish was big enough for the inevitable failure.  But each time the fish ran, I was able to stop it; each time it lunged for cover, I was somehow able to turn it.  I was hoping for just a glimpse of this fish.  I still wasn’t sure what I had, although I had my suspicions.  When I first saw it glimmering in the water, I was stunned; and now I needed to capture this fish.  Shortly there-after, I lipped my first striper;  a beautiful, unlikely 34- or 35-incher that is still in my Top 5 (size-wise) for the species; and quite possibly in my Top 2 for Best Fish Ever.  Local regulations protect such fish, and there were no thoughts of keeping and killing this fish.  I was alone and without a camera; there are no pictures of her.  I carefully revived her, felt her vitality return, she baptized me with a brush of her tail, and I watched her swim away.

And so began an obsession.  Fortunately, I can spend only limited time back East; otherwise, I’d probably be dirt broke and/or dead from the double-ended effort of trying to catch these fish dawn and dusk and with each change of tide.  They’re as close to being The Perfect Fish as I’ve encountered.  As it turns out, they’re numerous and generally available to east coast fishermen; they like to eat, and with pretty catholic tastes; they’re good to eat, should you so choose; but they’re eminently releasable with handle-like jaws, rubbery lips, and a calm demeanor once captured.  They come in a variety of sizes (up to giant) that can match their habitats, so it’s angler’s choice on tackle and tactics; they’re broad of shoulder and tail; and they just plain old pull like mad.  While they don’t seem to jump, they frequently feed on the surface and show themselves during a fight.  They’re migratory, so they’re seasonally here and gone; but when they’re “here”, they are enthusiastically here, and their presence is knowable.

Another Maine sunrise

Where’d they all come from?  Where had they gone?  I can’t answer these questions definitively, because most available evidence indicates that I must have had my head up my butt while I was in high school and college; but some combination of management protection as a regulated game fish, in conjunction with the environmental benefits of the Clean Water Act, Clean Air Act, and local efforts seem to be likely factors in their come-back.  On the other hand, under-regulation of commercial and recreational catches and the effects of rampant environmental degradation, especially within the Chesapeake Bay and Hudson River estuaries, doomed the striper populations of my youth.  As an environmental professional and ardent recreational angler, I’d like to think that these factors are all connected, and that the striper is back to stay.  More-over, I’d like to think the restoration of the striper is just one symbol of the benefits of these efforts.  Hopefully we’ll be quick to recognize current and future threats (threatened habitats, wetland loss, harvest of menhaden as fish meal, global climate issues) and act responsibly.

In the meantime, there are still plenty of stripers to pursue.  Just last month I got to “return” to Narragansett Bay.  I’d found a guide that looked to offer a quality experience on the upper bay (Captain Brian Patterson of Patterson Guide Service), and I spent a day with him and Katie chasing baitfish and stripers from Barrington to Tiverton.  The Bay showed well that day; great conditions, no signs of over-use or abuse, plentiful bait and lots of shots at stripers; even the capture and release of several nice stripers in the 35-36-inch range as well as a nice bluefish.  It was my original back yard but new water to me, yet still oddly familiar.  It was definitely a better version of the Rhode Island I left in 1985; and the stripers are a big part of that.

Katie's Narragansett Bay Bunkerhound

Steve's Striper of the Day

I’m fortunate to get back to Maine just about every summer, and the stripers are there for me when I arrive.  Every year’s a little different.  Tides, water temps, bait availability, fish size and numbers; all these are out of my control.  I show up when I can and I fish.  I fish simply, and quite often from a fixed position.  I can hedge my odds with fresh bait and by fishing in the dark, and I can strive to fish perfectly, by not missing a single strike.  But most of the important elements are out of my control.  I know that if I can stay long enough, slow fishing will improve.  Conversely, I also know that I need to appreciate the good outings, because my success and seeming mastery of the fishery can fall apart in one tide.

A better than average-sized Maine dock striper

My records show that I enjoy annual success; how many stripers must there be, for me to touch so many from my single spot?  I can’t imagine the magnitude of the movement of life across  the eastern sea-board, necessary just to deliver these fish to my feet annually.   I’m glad I’ve stumbled across this restored phenomenon.  It’s brought a lot to my fishing, my family vacations, and my appreciation of New England.  These unique fish are helping me to imagine a possible future built on the enjoyment and appreciation of them and their environs.