Yipes! Stripes!
Early Bird Seeks Stripers
by Keith Weinstein
Rewind: this all began when I was one of the lucky bidders at the TU auction and garnered a Fred Jennings guided Peak Dawn Anglers' fishing trip. The proposition of fishing the estuary for stripers near Ipswich in the vicinity of Crane's Beach sounded plenty exciting. Add the second dimension--canoeing out with the tide and then returning on the incoming tide--made things more interesting. However, when you throw in the third ingredient, using 7-foot, 4-weight fly rods and wading to the key fishing areas, you have a recipe for fantastic fun.
Minutes before we leave Fred's dock, the thermometer posts a crisp 32 degrees. I am pleased that I will soon be paddling. Mercifully, the glow on the horizon announces the dawn, and the forecast for mid sixties mentally mitigates the morning chill.
Our paddles pierce the placid surface, and the pair of canoes set out to our first fishing spot. Just as we slip out of the canoes a wild turkey's gobble echoes across the water, producing a pleasing audio backdrop for the wade to our first fishing hole. Following Fred's advice, I tie on a chartreuse Clouser Minnow, and within five minutes I am the first fisherman to proclaim "fish on!" However, minutes pass and no one else (including me) delivers further. We move on.
Paddling another ten minutes brings us to our next location. Here we repeat the same procedure: wade in waist deep, cast four or five times and unless a strike occurs, move on--wading up and down the channel looking for action. Still, there is a mysterious void of fish.
The next stop yields the beginning of our bounty, and everyone catches at least two fish. We are quite busy for the next twenty or thirty minutes. We begin keeping score at this point, and I am in command. The tally is Fred: 3, Dick: 3, Louis: 2 and I have 4. This is my last moment to carry the top producer distinction.
Another spot, another blank. Fred says, "Be patient," and he predicts the incoming tide may bring fish. We stop for lunch and settle in to some of Fred's gourmet peanut butter sandwiches and a cup of specially blended coffee and Swiss Miss. While Louis, Dick and I visit, Fred wanders off. The next thing we see is Fred catching four or five fish. He returns smiling, saying he feels more and more confident that we may do well with the turn of the tide. Ten minutes later, we leave, heading back the way we came and with the water moving our way.
Fred directs our route, retracing it essentially, and then says, "Here is where we want to be." He instructs us each to begin fishing at a certain place and to wade in this or that direction until we catch fish. There is a sense of certainty in the tone and tenor of this directive. I begin as told, and nothing happens. Then, “fish on!” is heard to my right and left. Louis nails a 21-inch striper with shoulders. I look left, and Fred is putting on a clinic with practically every cast. I cast and retrieve, repeat and start a slow simmer, feeling the pangs of intense irritation and humiliation. This continues for another thirty minutes until Fred returns and says, "You need to be deeper. Change to this fly." It's a large Clouser Minnow that he has named the Shameless Hooker. I do as I am told and wham, I am catching fish. This fishing frenzy keeps up for thirty minutes or so. I am too busy to watch Fred, as I am getting strikes and catching fish. Then, though literally inaudible, a click of a switch occurs. The fish are gone. Spooked? Possibly…Moved? Likely…No longer biting? Definitely.
The drill continues, and we return just as we advanced. However, it becomes more and more apparent that while the fishing is on, the catching is off. Fred takes us back to the places where the fish should be, and they are absent. Mysterious, but understandable. It is mid-May and the striper run is still in the earliest stages. "In a week or two, the waters we fished will be packed with thousands of stripers," says Fred. We fish…we paddle…we return to Fred's dock. It's mid-day and we are through. Fred states, "This was a good trip for the time of year." We all agree.
The total score: 75 to 85 stripers caught and released. Fred took 41. Size: 18 to 26 inches.
Author's note: Following directions has always been a personal challenge for me, particularly, when it pertains to fishing. Being a rather strong willed person, I frequently make my own way and refuse guidance. My experience on the estuary taught me a great deal about the success one can achieve when one takes the time to listen and follow others who are in the know.
Click here to view the photos I took that day.
-- KW
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