Thoughts along the way…

Montauk—The Fall Run

Long Island runs in a northeasterly direction into the Atlantic Ocean for roughly one hundred miles from New York City to Montauk. It runs parallel to the mainland of Connecticut but is separated by the great body of water called Long Island Sound. The island was formed around 1900 B.C. during the ice age, when two pulses of Wisconsian glaciation retreated to leave two moraines, consisting of gravel, mud and erratic rocks, in the same way that a bulldozer’s blade will leave a ridge when the machine is reversed.

Long Island Sound was once a large lake, but the water eventually broke through at places like Plum Gut and the Race, leaving a series of small islands, the largest being Fishers, off the coast of Rhode Island.

The striped bass is a migratory fish that ranges from North Carolina in the south to the Gulf of Maine in the north, following the warm water north in the spring and south in the fall. The baitfish that the stripers and other predatory fish rely on to fuel their journey south also migrate in the same direction, pouring out of the great expanse of the Sound, taking a sharp turn to the right at Montauk Point. The baitfish also head south from the fish-rich areas to the north of Montauk, Cape Cod Bay, Massachusetts Bay, and Nantucket Sound, to name a few.

The geography, weather and currents all combine to concentrate this huge mass of bait, at and around Montauk Point, from September through November. This bait consists primarily of bay anchovies, menhaden, silversides, and occasionally sardines, forming into great compact schools that look like rust-colored patches on the surface. Striped bass, bluefish, and false albacore will feed on these schools of bait in a frenzy, charging through with open mouths, foaming the water white with a sound like a waterfall, sometimes for hundreds of yards, as they bulk up on protein for the dash south.

This is known as the “blitz” and, once seen, will not be forgotten.

Fishermen of all types travel from around the world to fish the fall run at Montauk. You’re likely to find fly fishermen in small boats buzzing around at high speeds, known locally as the “mosquito fleet”; larger charter boats trolling through the middle of this melee; big party boats steaming in to hover over schools of fish with a loud hoot on the sea horn, signaling the anglers crowding the rail to start fishing; and “pin hookers” (solitary men fishing with hook and line on downriggers, catching fish to sell at the dock), steaming through the entire fleet without an eye on the helm. Occasionally a sailing boat heading for the harbor will ill-advisedly sail through the middle of this circus, the crew looking panic-stricken as they are yelled at by murderous- looking dock rats, acting as mates on the charter boats.

Everybody out there feels they have priority. The fly guides try to get in quickly, because they’re in small boats and need to get in close to give their sports a shot. The charter boats feel that they’ve been there the longest and can’t fly fish, so they think it’s daft. The party boats are the biggest, and least maneuverable, so they muscle in because they have so many anglers to satisfy. And the pin hookers yell that they’re trying to earn a living, disregarding the fact that many other of the boat owners are doing the same thing. There are also many recreational fishermen out there who feel they have the right over the guys doing it for a living.

HOW STRIPED BASS ARE BEING BUSHWACKED

I am a catch and release saltwater fly fishing guide.

In the spring and summer I fish out of Sag Harbor in the bays between two Glacial moraines, left behind as the last pulse of Wisconsian glaciation receded 20,000 years ago, forming the North and South forks of Long Island N.Y.

In September I move my boat east to Montauk, the self proclaimed ‘sports fishing capital of the world’ to guide sportsmen drawn by great fall run of fish as the striped bass and bluefish chase the bait south as part of their great annual migration. The front line of one of the struggles for several species of fish, as they fight for survival.

This part of the world has a rich maritime and fishing history. The original Native American tribes and early settlers relied on the local fishery as a primary food source and as a way to fertilize their land.

In the early part of the 19C, the area saw a boom, as Sag Harbor became one of the hubs of the Whaling industry. Ships would set out on great voyages sometimes lasting five years, as the Whale population depleted and the captains had to sail further to find their quarry.

The ships owners, the first oil barons, banked on their ships returning to port fully laden with barrels of product.

For years the abundant fish stocks were a given, one reason to live out here on the sandy isthmus of the south fork and bare the brunt of the brutal winters, the scathing nor-Easters and the chance that one big hurricane may one day blast the whole lot back into the Atlantic.

Then, in the late seventies the striped bass, all but disappeared. Indiscriminate fishing together with polluted spawning grounds mainly in the Chesapeake Bay had turned this mainstay of the local fishery into a rarity.

At the time, this was a wake up call, the taking of the species was banned and the moratorium only ended with the introduction of strict limits on the size and amount of fish that could be taken.

This early effort in conservation was wildly successful and the striper population bounced back. The trouble was, that not enough was done with a view to long-term sustainability and the striped bass population is once again, in danger.

To add to the old problems of indiscriminate fishing, poaching and pollution, the harvesting of Menhaden (a type of small herring known locally as bunker) has become a viable business once again. Two companies, carpetbaggers, have found loopholes in a couple of states, enabling them to capture vast amounts of this vital link in the food chain using purse seine nets.

The largest of these is the Omega Protein co, owned by the Bush family in Texas as part of the Zapata oil Corporation.

While defending their fishing practises a representative of Omega reportedly said that they were keeping an eye on the fish stocks and they would ‘wait and see.’

Unfortunately nature can be unforgiving and so by the time the damage is clearly noted and ‘seen’, it is often too late.

The popularity for omega-3 fatty acids as a dietary supplement and the reduction of Menhaden yields for feed to encourage growth rates in, ironically, farmed fish, has once again made the harvesting of this fish a highly profitable business.

Fish like the striped bass and bluefish, do not make there own omega-3 fatty acids for themselves, for this they rely on oily fish like the menhaden and anchovy who form a vital link in the food chain to plankton.

The predatory striped bass has been badly impacted, contributing to the alarming decline in the stocks and causing the epidemic of Mycrobacteriosis, marked by horrible red lesions and ulceration on the fish’s flanks caused by the protein deficiency, a result of the overfishing.

Imagine this for a scenario-The wild population of the majestic anadromous striped bass, an iconic fish whose natural habitat is confined to the coastline of the northeast. It’s migration ranging from the Carolinas in the south to Maine and an important part of the culture of the northeastern seaboard, disappears- a very real possibility, unless we see immediate and important changes regarding the species sustainability.

All we have left is the populations that have been artificially introduced to a few lakes and bays the world over. As a food source however, the sickly looking, farmed Striped bass is available, artificially reared on feed pellets made from…. the Menhaden. The very same fish that the now extinct wild population relied on, and died out as the Menhaden stocks were decimated to line the pockets of the suits in corporate America.

Last fall, as usual, the Striped bass and Bluefish were herding and crashing the balls of baitfish, frothing the surface into white water and filling the air with the smell of fish oil and the sound of a waterfall, in the phenomenon known as the ‘Montauk Blitz”. Bulking up on protein to fuel their run south.

To an observer walking the cliff edge at camp Hero or standing near the lighthouse looking down at the many fishing boats jostling for position before racing off to pursue the next ‘Blitz’, it would seem that they were looking at a healthy population of fish.

Unfortunately, in the case of the highly prized striped bass, they would have been looking down at a large percentage of the entire population of the species all gathered at the same location. Last fall there were few reports of fish still to the north, they had yet to arrived in any numbers to the south even around N.Y.C only ninety miles to the south west.

The striped bass are normally seen in Maine, at the northern end of their migration for a short six-week season before they turn back to the south. Very few stripers have been seen in Maine for four years, the migration has been so limited that they simply never made it.

The annual grip’n’grin photo opportunity enjoyed by the Bush’s after a succesful striped bass fishing trip off their summer home in Kennebunkport, may well be history.

let’s go fishing!