May years ago, while Living in New Jersey, my father introduced me to Surf Fishing. I was maybe 11 or 12 at that time and we’d hop in our family 4 door and make the drive to the beach to throw plugs in the predawn when the tides aligned right. I think it was years before we landed a bass. It was a time when the bass were set to make a comeback; now we know it to be short lived. This past weekend I made the run from DC up to Island Beach State Park for the first time in years. It was a trip back in time that stirred up great memories.
I really caught the bug back in 1990’something. I had permanent sand in my shoes and fell in love with the adventure of surf fishing. For me it was a great time of bonding with my father and brothers. I was excited by the unknown of leaving the house at 4:30 or 5:00am to don our waders in the dark and rig up plugging rods with the aid of headlamps. Our gear, back then, felt very futuristic and that was enchanting for a kid like me. We we’re out to explore the dark and, after the sun arose, a still unknown world at our feet. The possibility that a school of baitfish could assemble a rod length away from me with striped bass cutting through their swirls like a knife through fabric was enough to cause sleepless nights for years to come.
As the years passed we learned to read the beach. Spotting fish in the wash while cruising the beach in trucks became a sixth sense. Learning to drive on the sand as a kid resulted in many coffee spills for my dad as I would b-line it towards diving birds and splashing baitfish, ignoring the tracks I was jumping our old truck across. Of course we we had many trips that ended with the skunk but the trips where we hooked up or even caught a glimpse of a bass or a bluefish were enough to keep us looking for the next opportunity to go fishing. Plugging and bait rods soon had fly rods rigged next to them and our journeys had us piling into the truck to explore beaches and bays all over the East Coast. I’ll never forget the excitement of taking the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard for the first time to chase bass there in the spring. Many of our far flung journeys would become annual events with a great group of friends.
While my most recent run “up north” saw only a few schoolies in the wash, I got to connect with my oldest fishing friend outside of my family. We worked hard throwing plugs, metals, and flies into the night but nothing photo worthy came of it. We dug in for high tide which was late in the evening with bait rods and a bonfire. It was great to get back on the sand after hiding out at home most of the summer and fall. The solitude of a fall/winter/spring beach captivates me like no other fishing. As surf fisherman, it’s like we have an after hours pass to parks the rest of the world abandons when the sun goes down. I can’t wait to get back and -catching fish or not – spend time with he sound of the surf washing away cares of anything but hope for positive results.