I love catching bass on the swing. So much so that I recently found myself stubbornly seeking to catch fish this way, even when it was not working. To catch fish on the swing they need to be feeding (pretty obviously) on the surface. They also need to be feeding on station near an area with a swift and definitive current, such as the outflow of a salt pond, estuary, or tidal river. I have a few spots that lend themselves to swinging flies, and by this time last year they were alive with silversides. Heck, just a few weeks ago, one of these spots was alive with herring. After spotting menhaden in one of such estuaries, I had high hopes of big fish chasing big bait in shallow water. With the full moon shining bright, bringing with it strong tides and strong currents, I had every reason to be optimistic.
However, the striper gods did not make it so easy. On two consecutive nights I witnessed menhaden exiting into the bay, and on two consecutive nights I saw them swim off without a single bass in sight. I couldn't believe it. The outgoing tide was practically forming a conveyor belt of big, juicy baitfish, and yet, no bass were interested.
After the second night of many a bait and ne'er a bass, I went to the internet seeking answers. Water temperature? Barometric pressure? Time of day? Has morone saxatillis suddenly gone extinct? I found plenty of information that I could use to explain my lack of success, but only one key piece of info that could help me catch a fish. As I scoured online forums for reports, I found that I was not the only one struggling to bring fish to hand. However, of the fish people were getting into, it was all occurring in the hour before and after dusk. So I traded my headlamp for some polarized sunglasses, abandoned the outflow for the rocks and tied on a sink tip.
Thankfully I was rewarded. Hallelujah!
The first take was hard, but the fish came unbuttoned after a few head shakes. I re-sharpened my hook points and continued on. Ten minutes later another tap, this one not as powerful and did not result in a hookup. Another 10 minutes later, WHACK!, the definite tug of a fish. I set hard this time, as I wasn't about to let this one get away. He fought hard, real hard, and when I got him to shore I was delighted to look upon a near keeper size bass. Better yet this was not a Providence River holdover, but rather a fresh migratory fish, violet sheen, sea lice, and all.
As dusk turned to night the bite seemed to come to an end. Even now I am not sure why the fish are suddenly favoring the golden hour over the darkness. Water temperature? Barometric pressure? Are they afraid of the boogie man? Who knows. At the end of the day, I was able to bring a fish to hand and end a short streak of skunks. Sure, it wasn't the way I usually fish for stripers, but I could get used to the surf. There is a beautiful chaos to a rocky shoreline getting battered by waves, made all the more beautiful by the fact that bass are sitting just bellow the swells. As the night fishing improves, I will have to return to this aquatic rock garden. In the meantime I will be tying (and posting, I promise!) more flies in preparation for the next tide cycle.
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