It was pre-dawn on December 31, 2021 when I kissed my wife goodbye and whispered “Be back in a couple of hours” before heading to Point for my final casts of the year. She heard from me again about 9 hours later when I called from Island Beach State Park. Instead of a “hello” at the other end I was immediately greeted by “I guess you found fish.”
“We don’t have any New Year’s plans do we,” I asked, which prompted a light laugh from the other end of the proverbial line. “No, we’re good, catch ‘em up,” she replied. Yeah, I guess I have a lot to be thankful for heading into the New Year, my wife Michele being number one, the late run of striped bass a close second.
It’s not often that you hear “bass blitz” and “New Year’s” in the same sentence, but that’s what happened along the Ocean County beaches just hours before the ball dropped on 2021. A mix of bunker and herring were getting harassed by a mixed-size class of stripers at Island Beach, the first hint coming via text a little after 8 a.m. A few more friends called me in as I was driving south down 35, including Capt. Jeff Evans out of Waretown who texted pics of stripers he was slamming just outside the breakers. By the time my tires hit the sand, I realized I wasn’t the only one not rushing home for noisemakers and funny hats, though I imagine a few surfcasters would eventually spend time in the doghouse because of it.
Truth be told, I’ve only been driving the beach a few years; traditionally I’ve enjoyed the walk-up areas more, which helps stave off muggings. But desperate times require desperate measures, and when bass are stretched out along the beach making mad occasional dashes into the wash chasing bait schools, four-wheel-drive is the only way to “run and gun” through year-end desperation. But that too can get a little frustrating. “They were just at 18,” shouted Ed Mesunas from his truck window as he drove past, “but I hear they popped up at the bathing beach.” So I pull a U-turn only to get a text from another friend on fish at area 21.
I hit a few bass, here and there. Good-sized stripers too, in the fog, many times blitzing just outside of casting range. Luckily, Nick Honachefsky had given me a long-casting Ocean Born Flying Pencil weeks before which came in quite handy on the day. And then my phone whistled another text from Evans, “north end of the bathing beach.”
I know, everyone hates that guy who gives and receives live reports by cellphone. But we’re pretty much all guilty of dialing in our network from time to time, right? So there I was heading north again, choosing not to mug the guys already on fish, when I received another report from out front of the Governor’s Mansion, accessible only on foot. I attempted to walk in on them from the north, bumping into Jimmy Connell as he was coming out of the fog from the south telling of a 40-plus-incher he caught and released on an SP Minnow. “Coming your way,” was the last text I received from Evans as I left Two Bit for Gillikins to wait them out.
You can lose your mind in “blitz” conditions; you most certainly lose all sense of time and place. So after picking off another fish, as the fog grew increasingly thick, I aired back up and headed for the barn, calling Michele to let her know that I was on my way home. Instead of hello, this time she answered, “fish for dinner?”
Resolution for the New Year, check with the family first before playing catch and release all day.
