Dinner Time

A temporary leave from the office chair shackles was granted for a rare Tuesday and the boss lady kindly approved my plan for stripers and togs.  Monday night dinner time with the kiddos was quickly followed by a hasty packing of appropriate gear and a forecast-double-check.

First stop was at a spot I used to fish all the time.  I was all smiles even though the schoolie stripers weren't there in numbers like they used to be.  Over a couple of hours, I plucked 6 off the light line and kept two at 23" and 22".  

Phase one, complete.

The next morning, in search of tautog, I launched at the CBBT before the sun was over the horizon.  Tex had the same idea and met me out on the water.  With the full moon being a day away, the current was brutal.  We started off with a bunch in the 15"-16" range but eventually we got what we were after. 

Tex's two biggest went 20" each.

Chunks of blue crab got it done for us but I'm sure it'll be hard to find them soon.

My craving for that hard thumping signature tog fight got a momentary fix.  I ended the day with about a dozen togs with the two biggest at 22" and 19".

Phase two, complete.

Keeping my promise, I made the drive back to Richmond in time to pick up the kids and get back on dinner time duties.

For those of you that were interested, I'll have striper prints ready in time for the holidays.

Two Trophy Sheepshead, Spades, Togs, and a Keeper Cobia

A dim glow was slowly creeping across the eastern sky when my kayak set free from the beach.  The water was black and glassy and the glide was silky smooth.  I looked up at the stars, smiled, and whispered gratitude.  When I looked back down, my bow was cutting through thick bioluminescence creating Tron-like streaks on the water.  Each stroke of my Werner Kalliste sent clouds of electric blue swirling by and like the other times I've sat on an expansive touch-sensitive light-up body of water, I was reminded of what it feels like to be a child... giddy... full of wonder and amazement. 

The surreal Life-Of-Pi-esque scene, minus the gazillion jellyfish and jumping whale, faded as color spread and reflected on the mirror finish. 

I dropped my sheepshead rig in four or five spots before the sun was clear of the horizon.  Not too long afterwards, I got my first bite.  The strange yet familiar grinding with a sudden weight triggered that instinctual swing and urgent need to gain line.  Plunges of my rod tip preluded the high friction exiting of said line.  We exchanged possession of that length a few times while I kicked and pushed to get away from the big CBBT pilings.  When its rage wore off, I realized the hook was only holding on to a tiny sliver at the tip of it's lip.  I turned the fish so I could tuck my foot under it's pelvic fin, pinned it against the side of my kayak and pushed up as I pulled on the leader.  It measured right at 24".  

24" Release Citation Sheepshead

About 20 minutes later, I replayed the previous sequence much to my delight.  The 25"er had better hook placement on it though. 

25" Release Citation Sheepshead

It was 7:18 and I doubled up on my goal of getting a release citation sheepshead.  Since the bite was hot, I stuck around the area hoping for a third.  However, my patience ran out quickly thinking about the other goals I had for the day.  I had been wanting to make a print of a spadefish for a while, but haven't had a chance to bring one home.  After a quick paddle to different spot, the first drop down with clam brought on the rod-vibrating fight of a 10" spadefish.  Second drop down produced similar. Then, after 15 minutes of no action, I decided it was time to move on.  I checked off goal number two, as one of the spades went on ice destined to be inked.

The final goal of the day was to give it a good shot for cobia.  The sun was getting high enough to possibly see them.  Keeping a keen eye on the surface, I tried to cover as much water as possible in my Ultra 4.7.  However, when I got to one of my favorite spots, I had to drop a fiddler crab down just to see if anyone was home.

Anyone else remember Beetlejuice from Howard Stern?

After four togs up to about 15" I pulled myself away to resume the cobia hunt.  After a good long paddle, I saw what I was hoping for; silly brown clown circling a piling.  It wasn't very big, but I was definitely still going to take a shot.  It was swimming counter clockwise and I tossed a RonZ past the piling to the right side just as fish came around on the left.  I swam it near the surface and he charged as soon as he saw it.  He hit it but didn't eat.  I bounced it and he started chasing.  It was getting fairly close to the kayak and I was running out of line.  I dipped the rod down, thinking I was going to have to open the bail to let the lure drop, but then he grabbed it hard and I slammed it home.  Up until this point, I had only hooked up to cobia on friends' boats and charters.  I've seen plenty from a kayak, including some monsters, but for various reasons (sometimes beyond my control and sometimes my fault) I just never got a hook up.  So, I took my time and enjoyed this fight.  He immediately took some line, came up to the surface and thrashed, circled around and made a run back toward the pilings.  I was able to turn him and then he sounded.  For a smallish cobia, it definitely had some attitude; which I wanted all gone from him when it came time to bring it on the kayak.  I let him take as many runs as he wanted.  Eventually, he stayed relatively calm and I noticed the hook placement was good.  I grabbed the leader and slowly pulled him up.  

I quickly measured him at 38" and decided to keep it.  Knowing how strong they are and their destructive nature if it were to thrash in my lap, I took the hammer to the dome.  

I could have ended the trip at 7 in the morning and the 2hr drive home would have still been all smiles.  But with two release citation sheepies, spades, togs, and a keeper cobia under the hatch... you could say I was cheezin pretty hard. 
 
I made it back to shore by 2pm to get back home by 5pm as promised.  Cherry on top of it all was taking the kids to their first baseball game.  

That celebratory beer though...

Cheers.

Hopefully I'll be back out soon to upgrade that kayak cobia.

In the meantime, fish prints it is...

Video of the sheepies and cobia coming soon.

Fall Marathon

It was perfect.  

So perfect, that Lee went to work,
checked the weather, 

then decided that work didn't need him that day.  

 The text came in at 6:30 am saying "Leaving work. Togging it is today."

I happened to be sleeping on his couch at that moment.  

Jeff Lockhart and I got in around 1:15 am 

after fishing part one of what will turn out to be 

... a great fall marathon.

Mountain range leaf piles lined my sidewalk as we loaded two Trident 13s on my little hatchback.  After three and a half hours of raking both the front and back runways,  I was cleared for departure.   On our way out of town, traffic cone remnants of the Richmond Marathon bid us adieu as we refined plans for our upcoming fishing binge. 

Right on schedule, an hour and forty later, Billy Ragulsky (aka Willy Rags) was stocking up on his favorite lures at Ocean's East 2.  We all picked up live blue and green crabs for the next day's target specie and bolted to one of our favorite late fall spots for that evening's quarry, speckled trout.  The tide started dropping about an hour before we launched so we set up at the mouth of a creek and started casting.  Bait flickered here and there, which gave us hope.  Unfortunately, none of us had any hits.  Various Mirrolures, dines, PBs, topwaters, jerkbaits, and soft plastics didn't get the reaction we wanted.  So, we started trolling around the flat and that was the ticket.  I dragged a Procure smeared purple demon Mirrolure on one line and a 1/4oz jighead n dark bodied paddletail on another while the other guys kept to their confidence lures of choice.  The majority of my take-downs happened near the edge of the flat where it started to drop off.  Once I located a group of fish, I would try casting the same lures, but I couldn't get a hit.  And as soon as I trolled by, I would hook up again.  This has happened to me before many times and I always found it interesting.  In any case, we all had an amazing night.  20"-23" trout were prevalent as we all stopped counting how many we had of those.  Jeff ended the night with a new personal best at 26".  I scored two trophies at 25" and 26.5" and the extra point striper at 19" was good.  Willy Rags landed a big diva over 28" that threw a hissy fit on the hawg trough and refused a photo op.

26.5" Speckled Trout

The alarm hadn't gone off yet.  

Bleary eyed... 

I reached over... 

read the text and put it back down on the coffee table.  

Eyes closed, I processed what it meant.  

Smile creeping... 

the day just got way more interesting.

The water was like glass most of the day and in true form, Lee was on fire.  The bite in general was hot, but as Lee says in his own words... "I'm so much better at this than anyone else."  He was hooking up on every drop and laughing at you when you drop on the same hole and...

Over and over again.

Lee was pure entertainment all day and caught 25-30 togs with a lot of them going between 17"-19". Jeff caught another personal best at 18.5" and now understands why we get so excited about togs.  Billy had good numbers with a nice one coming on a crab tipped jighead.  Kevin showed up later on and scored decent numbers as well.  With the weather as nice as it was, several others were out on the tog hunt including a few Maryland Boys and some guys from local forums.  Everyone was pulling in fish, but for whatever reason, I started off slow.

Jeff Lockhart's new personal best tog at 18.5"

Lee Williams

Several little females had this cool yellowish tone.

William Ragulsky with a tog on jig.

Lee "____ 'em up" Williams

It took a little while, but I did find my rhythm.  Eventually, with everyone hanging around the same set of pilings, talking smack, I set the hook into one that got me a little more excited...

"oh ..."

I lucked out with the group's biggest of the day at 20.5"

I ended with 12-15 togs with a bunch in the 17"-18" range and the one over 20".  

Satisfied, we paddled back in on flat water.  

An hour later, Billy, Jeff and I found ourselves standing in line at the gas station convenience store still in waders, reeking.  Hoping for an encore of the previous night's escapades we rushed back to the same spot while cramming down some grub.  

The bite wasn't quite as good but I still wrangled over a dozen in three hours or so.  In contrast from the night before, my first five were caught casting instead of trolling.  Then when that bite turned off, I switched to trolling and found them again.  We got rained on a bit but that didn't bother us much.  With rain jackets and the hits coming steady we weren't fazed at all.  My biggest for the night went 26". Billy scratched another trophy as well at 24".

Thirty three and a half hours after we left, Jeff and I arrived back in Richmond chuckling at the luck we had.  The wind was virtually non existent the entire time and each leg of the marathon was an absolute blast.  I got the pullage I was craving and a good number of groceries to fillet.  

And 

I got my yard work done.

Tagging Recapture Info

I've been tagging a couple of years now, won a few awards, and decided to check up on some recapture info.  It's really fascinating what we can learn so I thought I'd share.

First up is a double tag.  Doug Purcell put a tag in a 12" red drum in the Ware River, which is way up in the Mobjack bay area.  Then I caught it 15 days later at Lynnhaven, which is a considerable ways south.  It grew 1.25" in that short period of time.  Fun fact: I caught that same fish again later in the day.

I've had several spadefish recaptures over the last two years.  A few of them were caught by my fishing buddies (Jay Brooks, Matt Anderson and a few others probably) and they were usually in the same area I caught them earlier.  I've also recaptured my own tagged spadefish a few times. 

I've also caught my own tagged tautog as well.  They also are usually in the same area if not the exact same piling.

Black Sea Bass are also on the tagging list and I've had 3 recaptures.  Two of them were only a few days after I tagged them so not much info was gained.  The 3rd was caught by my friend Jay Brooks.  It was recaptured 118 days after I tagged it, in the same general area (CBBT 1st island) and it grew from 9.5" to 11.5".  

Jay also recaptured one of my tagged triggerfish as well.  Again it was in the same area (CBBT 1st island).  It grew from 12" to 12.25" in 19 days.  Cool fact: I wrote a note saying that my hook went through the eye and it as badly damaged.  Apparently it was still ok, found plently of food and kept growing without any problems.

Here's another red drum recapture.

It traveled a good ways north in 30 days and grew an inch and a half.

Flounder recapture.

I tagged it under Lesner.  6 days later it was caught in the same area with .5" more.  Then 21 days later, it was caught again in the same area.

Another flounder recapture.

This one was eatin' good!  Staying in the HRBT/Willoughby area, it grew 3" in 45 days!

On the other hand...

This flounder was tagged and caught within a mile's distance away after 61 days and it didn't grow at all.

One more flounder.

This one also didn't go too far and after 88 days it only grew half an inch.  

I did puncture it's eye though.

I've had several speckled trout recaptures, mostly caught and recaptured in the Elizabeth River, Hot Ditch area.  One however stood out.

This one was tagged in late September up in Poquoson and by mid December was caught in the Hot Ditch area.

Again, I just thought I'd share some fun stuff.  

Hope you got your learn on.

A Long Time Coming

The Virginia Marine Resources Commission awards Saltwater Expert Angler status to those who catch 6 trophy (citations) of different species in one year.  Given the time restraint, it's a task that's considered quite difficult even for power boaters, but I wanted to prove that I can play that game strictly in my kayak and win.  No motherships, no getting towed, no motors and no captain putting me on his fish.  Just me, my kayak, my paddle and my decisions... making it truly mine.

But that's much easier said than done.

The pressure started building the day I admitted last year's failure and announced my intention to pursue it once more.  Knowing what it would take, I actually asked my wife's permission to try again while promising not to try the following year if I failed.  I needed her to understand the level of intensity that would be required over a long period of time and the high probability of failing, again.  Living over 100 miles from the prime salt spots made the odds even worse and created logistical nightmares for her as well.  With two young children, I was really asking a lot so I fully intended for this to be my last attempt.

Day One yielded my first citation.  

25" Speckled Trout on a slow jigged paddletail.

I tried for tautog on the next trip and caught some nice fish, but after the sun went down it was the striped bass that I was able to check off the list next.

44" Striper caught on a free lined eel

It felt great knocking two off right from the get go, but it was a frustrating four and half months before getting my third.  Several more attempts at tautog were fruitless and after a bluefish that came very close to citation, I came up short on chompers numerous times as well.  

Spring proved to be a real mental challenge for me.  Poor timing, faulty equipment, and various other excuses kept me from landing a citation red drum while others had all the luck.  It took me 7 trips  to the Eastern Shore to finally land number 3.

48" Red Drum on a 6" Swim Shad

Photo credit: Joe Underwood

My focus then turned to a few different species.  Having seen several near-trophy cobia and possibly a hundred citation class black drum over a month and a half without a single hook up drove me to the brink of utter depression.  Watching pier fishermen at the CBBT 1st island lift up the massive black drum and a good kayak buddy catch one by accident didn't help.  After an 8 trip slump, my saving grace came from a specie I felt confident in.

24" Sheepshead on fresh mole crab.

Turning down invitations to places I really wanted to try, from people I really wanted to fish with, became the norm this year.  Either the specie was already checked off, or not on the list  (freshwater).  I couldn't afford to veer from my task so over the next month, I diligently chased cobia, black drum, and triggerfish.  A few attempts at flounder were also unsuccessful.  Next came an invitation I am glad I didn't turn down.  The Tidewater Kayak Anglers Association needed a few more anglers for a club challenge and although I didn't want to take a break, I think I really needed it… at least just for that day.  It ended up being quite a legendary weekend.  I upgraded my sheepshead to a 26"er and our team beat out 7 other power boating organizations (by a lot) in an unprecedented kayak club win.   The next morning I returned my focus to the main mission and with it being "shark week", I knew what I wanted to go for.  I had caught 4' to 5' sharks before, but the trophy mark was 6'.  Amazingly enough, my first hook up went 3" bigger.

75" Black Tip Shark caught on dead Spot.

Video here.  Big thanks to Jay Brooks for serving as witness.

With number 5 checked off and 4 months left, I was feeling very optimistic.  But the roller coaster took a nose dive once again.  Throughout the year, I had issues fishing with good friends that I normally invited.  It was a selfish dilemma because it wasn't that I disliked them or didn't want them to be around, but instead it was the fear that they would catch the fish I was looking for.  And of course Murphy's law prevailed.  I punched through the ocean surf several times in search of trophy cobia only to have my good friend hook up on his first time out there this year.  I was very happy for him and even helped him land it since he lost his tools in the surf during the launch.  After tail-looping it, I let him borrow my hammer to subdue the beastly fish.  It was easily a release citation, but the text message confirming its weight was like a bowling ball to the gut.  As happy as I was for him, my own jealousy made me sick.  

I stayed persistent for a few more trips, but cobia will remain on the list until next year.  As fall settled in, failed attempts toward the dwindling docket of available species became more and more frequent.  Before long, tautog was the only viable specie left and sunset after sunset brought on a little more panic.  

On my fifth trip to the CBBT this month, I was joined by two kayak anglers I always looked up to ever since I started fishing from a kayak.  Kayak Kevin and Lee Williams have been an inspiration from the beginning and for whatever reason, I knew I wouldn't be upset if either of them got a trophy tog before me.  However, we also had tog-virgin Alex Britland also tagging along. At this point, after so many loner trips, it was refreshing to have good company.  I tried not to take it so seriously as we joked about having the magical power of 4 fish whistles to call the fish in.

Although, this was no joking matter.

After a few close calls with military hovercrafts we got to the target area and quickly got into a good number of togs.  Something about watching Alex catch his first white chinner and the tog addiction catch him put me in a great mood.  We shared many good laughs and I almost forgot what I was after.  I was up to about 10 togs when I was quickly reminded.  The hit didn't feel remarkable by any means.  I set the hook and it went straight toward the piling I was next to.  The line rubbed the structure for a second then the fish came back around.  It was then that it put a serious bend in my rod and grabbed everyone's attention.  Oddly, I don't remember much about the fight after that.  I recall saying to myself, "please be the one, please be the one!".  I do however vividly recollect getting it in the boat very quickly once I had it at the surface.  By this time Kevin was at my side with cameras rolling and I was shaking.  We both knew just from looking at it, it was going to be very close.  I lowered my head and closed my eyes for a few seconds… trying to keep calm… hoping… and praying.  When I opened my eyes, the broad side of the fish laying in my footwell made me frantic… "OH MY GOD, PLEASE!"  Kevin calmed me down and I got myself situated.  Just in case it flopped out, I made sure the hook was was in a good place and not loose.  With nervous hands, I laid it on the hawg trough…

Kevin was the first to say it.  "23"

Minimum release citation length is 23"

It was right on the money and I could hardly believe it.  I lowered my head again and a flood of emotions took over.  I screamed something (I don't remember what) and felt my eyes welling up.  To make it all even sweeter, the only other person who really knew exactly how I felt was the first to congratulate me.  Kevin had been the only kayaker to achieve VA Expert Angler status and he truly understood the level of pressure I released with every exhale as well as the pride that filled me with every inhale.  He had not only been an inspiration, but one of my greatest supporters in my quest and that handshake will forever resonate with me. 

I couldn't help but smile nearly the entire paddle back. The previous feelings of defeat that came with all the other return trips were replaced by a supreme sense of vindication.  I look up at the sky and whispered "not this time… not this time!"

One more uncontrollable surge of emotion struck when I got to shore and called my wife.  After nearly every trip she would ask, "Did you get it?"  And so many times, I yearned to tell her that it was over.  The sense of relief was overwhelming to finally tell my best friend that her sacrifices were all worthwhile and we can move on with other family plans.  

It's fitting that I'm writing this on Thanksgiving Day because I have so much gratitude toward so many people.  Obviously there is so much more to life and so much more to be thankful for than fishing, but since this goal consumed my life to such a degree I have to express my appreciation to those that have helped me throughout the years.  

Jennie, Kevin, Lee, Forrest, Jay, Justin, Rags, Anderson, Skunk Ape and The Johnnie B, and everyone else who had advice or encouragement.  So many of you had confidence in me when mine started fading.  

From the bottom of my heart, thank you all so much.  

My GoPros ran out of juice early, but Kev got it all on film, so we'll post up a video soon.

No Dice

After spending a grueling 14 hours on the water (11/3), then 12 hours the weekend after that (11/9), I straight up rocked my hubby/daddy duties this past week.  My wife enjoyed her slack time while I took care of everything.  You name it, I did it.  I even threw in a few massages, a kickass video of the kids, and she got all the yoga she wanted.  When Friday came along, I picked up her favorite pizza after work and got the OK to go on a little binge.  Her graciousness, patience, and understanding toward my pursuits is nothing short of saintly. 

My quest for six hinges on one last specie citation; the tautog.  However, tautog don't bite at night.  So this weekend's marathon started with some night time speckled trout fishing.  I launched Friday night around 9:30pm at one of my favorite creeks where it dumps out onto a nice flat with a deep channel near by.  I've been jonesin for some topwater action and that's exactly what I got. 

Sorry for the burned out photo, but I was anxious to get back to fishing.  I stayed out until 1:30am after 7 or 8 fish up to 23.5" then drove over to the baitshop to snooze for a few hours before picking up some crabs for bait.

I launched with the sunrise at the base of the CBBT and the hunt was on.  But some of my favorite spots didn't produce much so my confidence started waning.  After several minutes on one spot, I started bringing up my rig to change locations when the crab got hit about half way up.  It ended up being a strong, healthy 27" striper.

I eventually found the togs and got about 6 or 7 with the biggest going 18".  Of course, I had several oystertoads and black sea bass in the mix as well.

Dark Female Tautog

Oystertoad Pectoral fin

The 11 or so hours on the water flew by without the satisfaction I needed.  So, I decided to take my mind off it and called up a few buddies to see if they wanted to partake in some topwater trout action.  An hour and a sandwich later, I met Richie Bekolay at the prior night's spot.  The water was eerie calm over the flat and my skitterwalk wasn't getting the same attention it was 24 hrs ago; and neither was Richie's.  After switching to a pink MirrOlure, I immediately had a few short strikes.  Two casts later and bam... I found my lure of the night.  Billy Ragulsky and Dan Smullen met us out there and quickly joined in on the fun.  Without a possibility of a citation tautog that night it was low pressure fishing.  And I had a blast!  It felt so good to simply enjoy catching fish... in good company at that!  I admit, I caught myself giggling like a little kid a few times on the hooksets.  A few hours later, a dense fog rolled in to add a sense of wonder and adventure to that kid-like feeling.  Before the night was over, I tagged a little under a dozen trout with the biggest going 23".  Unfortunately, I skipped out on taking pics, but Richie has a few on his report.


Feeling rejuvenated after 5 hrs of down time, I was ready to up jump the boogie on some togs.  I wasn't expecting the fog to still be there though...

It burned off as the morning went on, 

and I got into good number of the right species.

After 8 hrs (from launch time to recovery) I ended with 16 togs ranging from 12" to 17.5" and one 13" bergall, aka cunner.  Oddly enough, I didn't catch any other trash fish; no toads, no seabass, no none of that. 

For those of you who haven't spent a lot of time trying but want to give it a shot at tautog, here are a few tips.  Drop your rig down and find pilings with lots of rocks at the bottom.  Try to map out the bottom in your mind as you feel your way around. Raise and lower your rod tip until you find holes where the togs are usually hiding.  Sometimes, as you feel your way around you may find areas of rocky bottom away from the pilings as well. 

Pretty patterned female tog

Well, it's no dice after about 45 hrs of toggin' so far this month.  But that doesn't mean I'll stop looking for my trophy.  Hope to have a good post for you (and me) soon.