Fresh Pond Habs - The Fisherman

Fresh Pond Habs

 Located at the west end of East Beach, Fresh Pond Rocks is denoted by the outcropping of rocks along an otherwise featureless, sand beach.
Located at the west end of East Beach, Fresh Pond Rocks is denoted by the outcropping of rocks along an otherwise featureless, sand beach. (Courtesy of Google Earth)

Fresh Pond Rocks denotes the beginning of the rocky, fishy structure leading west along East Beach in Charlestown, RI.

It was late September and the first Nor’easter of the fall was inching its way up the coast. Due to the conditions I couldn’t get anyone to fish with me so I went alone. My routine was to start in Narragansett at Black Point and work my way west looking for fish. I pulled into the parking lot on Ocean Road and mine was the only vehicle. The wind was already howling, but Black Point can be hot on the drop with a northeast wind, so I geared up and headed down the path to the water.

Arriving at the water, I didn’t like what I saw as waves crashed over the rocks in every direction. My spot to the north was under water, and my go-to spot to the south was getting hit by 10-foot waves. Nope, these were not the conditions to fish this spot, especially not alone. I headed back to the truck to ponder my next move.

I knew the point would be out of the question as would all the frontage on Ocean Road and everything on the east side. I quickly checked-in at the Galilee Channel and it was dropping fast, too fast to fish, so off I went looking for that magical spot.

I ducked into Charlestown and went to the back of the breachway; I knew it would be insane to go in front on the rocks. I took about a half-dozen casts and had a bump; perhaps some fish also headed into the pond to escape the maelstrom out front. Six more casts produced nothing so I packed up and continued to move west. I figured that Quonny might be worth a shot, especially at this time of year, but it was always a dangerous spot, and alone, with this weather, could be a recipe for disaster. Finally it hit me, “Fresh Pond Rock!”

Fresh Pond Rock is a spot at the western end of East Beach before Quonny but after Charlestown and Ninigret Pond. Named for a freshwater pond off the beach, it has hundreds of rocks that jut out from a sandy beach on both sides. The current runs hard here and I have seen the beach change from being totally buried so not a rock was showing, to where hundreds of big boulders jut out 300 feet into the surf following a big storm. It is a natural trap with deep water off the tip of the rocks for gamefish to ambush bait.

By now it was about 3 AM, 45 degrees and pouring rain fell from the sky. It was one of those mornings that makes you question your sanity for what you love. I was fishing a plastic but not finding any success. I hadn’t felt a bump in quite some time and was getting discouraged, but I figured I had to wait it out as it was about an hour from low water and false dawn.

I got out of the water and went up to the big rock with a natural seat on the back side of it; head down, hood up and I was miserable. Seemingly out of nowhere I saw someone standing in front of me sporting a big Fu Manchu mustache. He looked at me and said, “Well *&&^^, you gonna’ sit there feeling bad for yourself or are you gonna’ fish?!?!” Startled, I told him how I didn’t have much more than a bump in two hours. He grabbed my rod, cut off my needlefish and threw it up on the beach. I thought I was in the presence of a madman until he handed me a white needlefish and said, “John Habs is my name and I make these needlefish. This is a prototype, and none have hit the market yet”.

Invigorated by my new friend’s enthusiasm, I joined him at the water’s edge and began casting. Wouldn’t you know it, on my second cast I hooked into a teen bass? For the next two hours, right through dawn, we hammered fish, some up to 20 pounds but most in the 12- to 15-pound range. Eventually the tide bottomed out, the rain let up and the bite died. John and I talked for quite a while, and he gave me several more needlefish and a couple jointed, metal-lip swimmers. Sadly I lost all those early metal-lips over the years, but I still have several of his prototype needlefish.

John and I became close friends and fished a lot together over the following years, and we had many memorable nights from Watch Hill to the Cape. He was a fixture on the Back Beaches of the Outer Cape before the seals showed up and ruined the fishing.

The last time I saw John was at Home Depot in Greenville, RI. I had just been diagnosed with cancer and had been operated on and had chemo the week before. John knew of my condition as only a few of my friends were privy to the fact. He found me struggling to load a door into my truck and immediately stepped in to help. Once loaded we went for coffee at Dunkin and talked for quite some time.

Sadly, John died in September of 2007. John Jr. took over the business for a period of time but stopped producing plugs a few years ago. I still miss John and think of him every time I fish the surf with a Hab’s needlefish.

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