October 24, 1991 - Gigging and Trolling for Montauk BluesCS The Suffolk Times • October 24, 1991
Gigging and Trolling for Montauk Blues
By Paul Stoutenburah
There are so many occasions in life
that we miss because we hesitate and
then the opportunity is lost. Not so
when the opportunity came along to
spend a day and a night with my son
bluefishing off Montauk. No, sir. I
dropped everything and went and what a
day it turned out to be! Everyone else
must have felt the same way for every-
where you looked on Saturday people
were out taking advantage of what most
considered the last great day of warm
weather.
Within a half hour we had gathered
together our gear, along with some
hastily made sandwiches, and were off
trailing a 16 -foot aluminum boat and
motor behind us. All along the road the
fall colors of the swamp maples showed
their brilliant yellows and reds while the
more subdued, but nevertheless beauti-
ful, oaks put on the more subtle colors
of browns, maroons and dark yellows.
Fall was upon us but we would be al-
lowed this last great day with tempera-
tures in the 70s. We knew others felt
the same way for the roads soon became
clogged with traffic.
At Montauk we launched our boat in
the clean, clear waters that told us we
were not far from the great Atlantic
Ocean. Once in the water we traveled
past what seemed like walls of marinas
and party boats hastily heading out to
the fishing grounds. It's here you can
grasp what a huge economic power the
fishing industry brings to the area and
why a renewable fisheries is so impor-
tant to all. Without unpolluted waters
and sensible rules and regulations this
Focus on
Mature
valuable resource could well drift away,
as it has in other parts of our world.
Slowly, ever so slowly, we are all real-
izing that we must take care of all
aspects of our planet or some day we'll
awake and find them gone.
People Everywhere
Once out into the bay that runs along
the north side of Montauk, we could see
how important the beaches of the state
and county parks are to those who fol-
low the fish. As far as the eye could
see, even around the great lighthouse at
Montauk, men and women lined the wa-
ter's edge casting into the surf. All sizes
and shapes, all colors and nationalities
were there in hopes of catching the elu-
sive blues.
Campers and pickups lined the shore
because the more determined four-wheel -
drive vehicles gave them the advantage
and the right to be there, provided they
had a permit that made it legal. There
were families with kids who played in
the sand while father and mother tried in
vain to cast that plug or gig in just the
right spot for a strike. It was interesting
to see how each fisherman had his own
special territory. It was almost as if
they were assigned a certain distance
from each other. Evidently there's an
unwritten law that prevents
overcrowding along the beach.
The population of fishermen at sea
around the point was almost as heavy as
on shore; no matter where you looked
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Faskien Skew
'Not",
•
Date: Friday, October 25, 1991
Time: 7 :45 p.m.
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SMOKED BLUEFISH —This crisp fall weather is the ideal time to catch
the last of the bluefish and then smoke them for keeping. Such a
combination is hard to beat.
you could see boats slowly trolling
back and forth. There was everything
from the small, open boat such as we
were in to the luxury 50 footers that
cruised amongst the fishing fleet.
Everyone was looking to catch fish that
day.
Birds at Work
We couldn't wait to get our lines
overboard for not only had all the boats
spurred us along but now we could see
groups of birds working over the water.
A sure sign of fish below. We headed
for one of the groups that turned out to
be immature laughing gulls. Every once
in a while we could see the water break
as the fish from below drove the bait to
the surface, only to be snatched up by
the milling gulls above.
You'll never see gulls sitting on the
water during this frenzy of feeding be-
cause bluefish are so ravenous they will
snap at anything, including a gull. We
cast into where we thought the fish
might be but our Hopkins lure never
brought a strike.
We tried time and time again until
Roger decided to try something
different. "I'm going to try something
deep. I'll try gigging." This meant
putting on a long, tapered triangle gig
with a triple hook dangling on the end.
He dropped it over the side until it hit
bottom and then reeled it up fast. On
the second try he got a hit and with a
tremendous struggle and fight soon had
the silvery-green blue over the side.
What a magnificent fish it was, beating
the bottom of the boat with its
powerful tail and snapping with its jaws
at anything that came within range. It
soon coughed up its latest feast, which
consisted of white bait (small
silversides) and a half- digested seven -
inch -long baby weakfish. That was a
good sign to me for it meant perhaps
we might again some day see those
handsome fish back in our bays.
We gigged and trolled in the warm
sunshine and sparkling water. More fish
came over the side. What a perfect day
we were having. Our sandwiches and
drink soon disappeared and time rolled
on. The sea was relatively calm until
about three in the afternoon when the
wind started to work around the point
and we decided to go in. We had had our
day of fishing at Montauk. Perhaps
we'd try tomorrow if the wind didn't
shift.
Back on land we set up our camp and
decided to have a meal out on the town
to celebrate the day. We found a place
down by the docks and lingered over
onion soup, calamari and salad topped
off by a dessert named Barbara, which
we both toasted to.
Back at camp we lay in our snug
sleeping bags as the bright moon shone
down telling us the weather had changed
and the wind was now out of the north-
west. We talked on into the night about
what fathers and sons talk about. How
fortunate we were. The next morning
we checked out the sea and found it too
rough to be out in a small boat. We had
had our day in, the sun. We caught the
bluefish we came out for but, most im-
portant, we had a day and a night to-
gether. It was the way the world should
be.
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