Beachcomber & Times Press

By Mark Sampson

Last weekend offshore bottom fishermen were having a good-old time catching lots of really nice seatrout just a couple miles southeast of the inlet. Along with the trout, happy anglers enjoyed catching croaker, a few seabass, flounder, sandsharks, and of course an occasional skate.

On Sunday the weather was beautiful, and the ocean so smooth that some folks even dared to run boats as small as 13’ out to get in on the fun. The action was steady, and fish were an ideal size to please experienced anglers, but not too large that even young children couldn’t handle them.

Fishing among the fleet I couldn’t help but notice that conditions were perfect for people to enjoy a very relaxing and pleasant day on the water. Well, at least that’s the way it all started. Little did any of us know that there was a powerful force ascending from below that was about to wreak havoc among our serene day offshore. Our "relaxing" day on the water was about to take a sharp twist.

It started for me when I was cranking up my bottom rig to check the bait. Half way up something hit one of the squid strips. It was "on and gone" in a couple seconds, but it had my rod bent over double and pulled drag hard! I let the line back to the bottom, and again retrieved it quickly. Half way up I got another big bite, but this time the fish stayed hooked.

I fought the critter hoping that my little hook and flimsy bottom rig would hold out long enough that even if I didn’t land the fish, at least I could see what I had.

This time luck was with me and after about ten minutes I had a fat fifteen pound bluefish beside the boat. I released the fish and put together a new bottom rig since the bluefish had trashed the one I had caught it on. I remember mentioning to my wife (Charlotte) that there was probably just a couple of blues cruising through the area, and we just happened to be in their path. I didn’t expect to hook any more.

About that time I noticed a disturbance on the surface a hundred yards away. Baitfish were jumping out of the water with a big bluefish in hot pursuit. Simultaneously, Charlotte’s rod doubled over to the pull of a blue on her line. That’s when I began to realized that there were more then just a couple of bluefish in the area.

My suspicions were confirmed when I looked around and saw the mayhem going on around us. What moments before was a placid scene of families enjoying a relaxing day on the water was now shattered by yells of "get that rod tip up, watch out he’s gone under the boat, clear the other lines, and get the net - no - get the gaff!"

Big bluefish were everywhere and everything was different now. For me, it was fun just to watch the different boats and see how the fishermen were responding to the new opportunities. Some switched over and started trolling for the blues, some started casting to them, some tried to keep trout fishing but kept getting bitten off by the big "choppers", at least one group appeared to call it quits and head for home.

Kids were squealing, men were yelling, and lines were snapping! Things were different now, at least for a while the "relaxing" part of the day was over. But most folks still seemed to be having a good-old time just the same.

Aboard the "Fish Finder", Charlotte caught a mess of the big fish by casing surface plugs while I did my best to hook one up on a fly rod. No need to go into details about who caught the most fish.

Fishermen have always maintained a sort of love-hate relationship with bluefish. When we want them they’re the best fish in the world, but when they force themselves upon us they can certainly be welcomed with mixed reviews.

Throughout the Fall anglers could encounter big bluefish anywhere from back bays, to the surf, to many miles offshore. Sometimes they’ll take up residence in an area and be very consistent and anticipated catches. Other times bluefish will pop up when and where anglers least expect them and turn an otherwise quiet fishing trip into happy pandemonium.