The Greyhounding Pogy

Saturday, May 26, 2007

This was a beautiful morning, but I was worried about the wind. It was forecast to blow a bit from the west later in the day, but it seemed to be getting a head start by the time I rounded Standish Shores to pick up my party. My journey to the town pier was uneventful; I didn’t see much action, but it was still early and fairly dark still. This morning’s charter was a hire for another guide in town and I was unclear about the plan. I found Ian and his father, Bruce, waiting at the town dock, eager to get out on the water. We waited for a few minutes for their friend, Dave, to show up. And he did. Three guys, and I only anticipated one. But this was hardly a problem.

We greeted one another and soon I could sense that these guys were experienced fishermen. On our way out we stopped briefly at a rip along the channel as birds were working the water. But this immediately dissipated and I felt it would be better to head out toward the light. Upon arrival we found lots of fish. They were breaking the surface and the schools stretched, as they had in previous days, from the Saquish rip toward Goose Point channel in Plymouth. The guys applied storm shads for the most part and after several landings Bruce hooked into a keeper, and this was somewhat lucky as it was hooked in the gills and might not have survived the event anyway. Spirits heightened and after some time the interest changed to exploring other areas of the bay.

I took them to Clark’s Island, and behind, to seek the odd holding spots. They produced a few fish. Then up north toward the beach and by this time the wind was picking up significantly. A few drifts produced a few fish, and feeling the need to get them into some calm conditions, I proposed a trip to the Jones River area. They heartily accepted. The trip was against the wind and chop and as such, no one muttered a word the whole way over. A busted seam in the boat’s forward deck platform made an uncomforting sound as the bow nailed each wave….a sound that probably only annoyed me.

The lee was only slightly calmer. And the fish of choice were not striped bass. We noticed a series of surface movements and my mind read hickory shad. The wind was gusty in this cove and after a little while I managed to improve our position to fall upon these busting fish. Ian was keen on the idea of hooking a shad, as was Dave. Bruce decided to take a rest.

We rigged two rods with small wiggly lures and within seconds Dave had a fish on. He rose it to his hands and alas, it was no hickory shad but a fine menhaden, or “pogy” as we say here. We marveled at this poor fish before Dave plopped it back into the drink. But Ian was still keen on landing one. And he did.

But this wasn’t going to be a good spot to hang around. A bunch of women and a pack of dogs were making a ruckus on the near shore of Bay Farm and we were only feet away. I thought about following the leeward shoreline and we did this for a few minutes, but I saw nothing in terms of schooling fish. So I recommended a high probability spot for the dropping tide. We arrived through building seas and the guys landed several nice sized stripers. But the chop was bouncing us around and soon I felt the need to move onward, particularly as time was now limiting.

Another go at High Pines and a few more fish were hooked. Then Ian looked up at me and signaled that we might as well head in. By this time Dave was telling some good stories that made us all laugh a bit. The ride in was a bit bouncy, the stories suddenly ceased, and in a flash the party was over. Not a bad morning – lots of fish early, then we had to hunt around and work. A keeper and some greyhounding menhaden….not bad.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

My first charter. Charles and Tim met me at 5:45 at the landing and within minutes we were off into the early dawn light. We hit it off immediately. Tim lives in Duxbury and it turns out we both have several common friends and acquaintances. But this is a fishing story. We found a very large school of breaking bass along the margin of the channel leading from Bug Light towards Clarks Island. Charles manned his flyrod, a nice Orvis 9 wt. that he bought in Europe. Tim was on his own light gear. The fishing was great: these two guys were landing fish on almost every cast for a good two hours. We used storm shads and Fin-S rubber baits, along with the Charles’ blueback herring fly. Soon Tim had a keeper on board and, with our spirits quite high, continued on many drifts through the busting fish until Charles looked at me and said, “John, I am sated.” Whereupon he simply sat down and smiled.

We all decided that even though there were plenty of fish around this spot, the remainder of the morning would be best spent exploring. I took them to some spots along Saquish and Clarks Island and neither of these produced anything. Then when we reached a hot area of the beach channel the fishing picked up again and each short drift resulted in numerous hookups. The stories continued and became more colorful. We were having fun.

After an hour or so we moved on towards the middle of Duxbury Bay where a line of birds and fish extended about a half mile. Again, almost every cast was met with at least a chase or hit. The guys landed numerous fish, mostly mid-sized (15 to 25 inches). Charles insisted I demo his fly gear and so I did and this was fun. I hooked a few and Charles took the helm to guide us to new drifts through the large school. We thought we spotted hickory shad, and they may have indeed been in the mix, but we didn’t hook any.

Again, sated and feeling full, the guys indicated that they’d had their fill, Charles and Tim stated that we should begin toward shore and maybe stop if they appear along the way. I toured them through Captain’s Flats, explained what the bathymetry was like there and how one can sight fish for stripers throughout the summer months there. Then, as we passed one of my favorite rips, I said, “Guys, do you want to stop here for a few minutes and give it a whirl – conditions are just right for some good sized bass right here.” Sure, that would be fine. I tossed out a Fin-S to demonstrate what I believed was the best way to fish the rip, and after three cranks of the reel I had a 31” striper on the line. This activity rejuvenated their interest and we ended up going through the rip 5 or 6 times, hooking many large bass (almost keepers) and seeing several follows that made our eyes bug out.

Then the time came to leave and get back to shore. We had a fantastic morning – couldn’t have asked for a better first charter.

Gunster's Winter Fantasies

Tuesday, May 22, 2007
The call came late as I was delivering a shipment of clams to Wareham – Don Gunster was in Mackerel mode and he needed a partner. I was under some time pressure to do some work on the skiff and prepare for Thursday morning’s charter. But the draw was too strong, and after a decent morning of digging and feeling that I had accomplished something significant for the day, I felt a reward was in order. The plan was to jig up a few macs and then liveline them at a spot we both knew would produce.

There was some wind, a stiff SW breeze. When we arrived outside along the mackerel drifts we positioned the boat along a line formed by at least 15 others. Within a few minutes we hit into them. The hookups were impressive – many times we had 4 or 5 fish on at once. The thing about jigging for macs is that it is so simple, but dangerous at the same time. These little Sabiki jigs have little sharp hooks that always seem to find fingers, pants, and boat furnishings. This time we were lucky – no blood. But the image is silly: two grown men, nervously smiling as they dance to avoid hooks while collecting spasmodic fish off the deck to deliver to the livewell. We did this for a half hour and then sped into bay.

We anchored and dropped a mac and then threw some plugs and swimmers around. We hooked several small bass on lures. Then Don’s liveline began to scream and, of course, he was on. The first fish was about 29”, Don’s first keeper of the season. We then put out two macs – mine kept dying on the vine, which is why the next two keepers came off of Don’s rig. These both measured 30 and 31” and weighed in around 8 to 10 lbs.

We quit before the sunset and motored in. The fridge is full of fish.

That's Bad

Monday, May 21, 2007

Out early with A. and the C-man. A great day, but some chop on the water. The fish were up on the surface and we hooked several. But nothing of any great size. Time was limiting our total enjoyment I think. A. and I had to get in early to work – he at the office and me along the intertidal zone. But we had some good action along a well known rip on the dropping tide. It produced some heavy mid-sized specimens and made the C-man happy; particularly when I told him his rig was “bad” and within two seconds, he hooked into a big bass. This situation comedy amused the man for a good 15 minutes, and that is good.

Jane's Day

Sunday, May 20, 2007

After taking Jane to lunch I decided to risk the question: So, do you want to go fishing with your dad? Her answer: Yeah!

We grabbed our little dog, drove down to the ramp, and set off on an early afternoon fishing trip. The weather was iffy. Small mini-squalls that sprinkled us every 10 minutes were alternating with short-lived sunshine. The wind was from the west at about 10 knots which provided some chop. But this did not deter Jane from smiling ear to ear when I cranked up the throttle and we sped off to the mid-bay region. Immediately we found some fish on the surface and we were the only boat on them. First cast with Joel’s Cherry Popper produced a short fish. Then I place several casts into the school and helped Jane reel in. She didn’t hook up, but had lots of follows and strikes. She then said, “Dad, I want to watch *you* fish.” So I did. A couple casts later and I had a 31” striper on the line. The fish flopped around on the deck for a while and this seemed to keep Jane and the dog alert.

We cut inside of Clarks Island, pulled one of our lobster pots, collected 3 sand crabs (pinkey toe crabs) which Jane loves to eat, and then went in. The rain became more steady and we laughed in pain as it hit our faces at full speed. The dog seemed unamused.