Funny Money: The Elusive Shore Slam

netting — Netting a pelagic grand slam is tough proposition no matter how you fish, but doing it from shore takes dedication and preparation.

Connecting the dots on notching an inshore pelagic Grand Slam!

For most of us Northeast pelagic enthusiasts, the approach of late summer can be somewhat bittersweet. The “bitter” part is the obvious oncoming end of our saltwater season. The shadows grow long, stretching across the road in a virtual kaleidoscope of muted colors, promising that fall is not far away. The days grow shorter; the sun kissing the horizon much sooner than just a few weeks prior.

The “sweet”, on the other hand, brings with it the anticipation of silver streaking through the curl of a wave, or rippling the surface, while bringing the otherwise calm water to a boiling froth. The arrival of funny fish brings a renewed sense of excitement for all inshore fishermen.

In most corners, the star of the show is the false albacore, otherwise, lovingly known as “albies” to those of us stricken with albie fever. Joining the albies in this late season dance we will also see Atlantic bonito, aka “bones”, a relative to the false albacore, which run a close second to the albies in power, but far surpass them as sushi grade table fare beloved by many. In recent years, a historically less frequent visitor, is now becoming a more common addition to the pelagic parade, as Spanish mackerel are finding the hook with increased regularity.

Catching any of these speedsters can be an adrenaline rush for any Northeast angler. Catching two in the same outing? Even better! But, catching all three? Well, now you’re looking at an inshore Northeast pelagic slam. A fantastic feat, one that would be typically accomplished from the deck of a boat. But from shore? A task worthy of patting oneself on the back?

Challenging? You bet it is, and it’s going to be a heck of a lot of fun trying!

The false albacore is one of the most beloved fall species in the Northeast and is also the easiest of the three grand slam species to check off the list.

The Stars Align

I arrived under the cover of darkness, a relatively well-known jetty extended outward, as I gathered my small surf bag stuffed with my standard albie lures. Epoxy jigs, Albie Snax, small swimmers, and other assorted temptations with forktails being the main target. The albie bite had been decent with the fish starting to fill in more and more each day. The bonito bite over on the vineyard had been going strong for a few weeks at that point, with even some reports through the pelagic telegraph that fish were being caught further east along the southside of the Cape.

False dawn was giving way to actual light now, as I started scanning the surface for the telltale signs of albies on the feed. Footballs taking to the air, porpoising, and blasting bait. A fruitless hour would pass before I saw the first sign, well offshore, but close enough to give me hope. The doubt fading with that initial sighting. The fish were here, and based on years of fishing these waters, I knew that I’d get my chance as the albies chased bait around the wide expanse of this large harbor. I did not have to wait long.

Suddenly, the fish erupted just off the side of large sea wall, some 200 yards, directly opposite of me, but clearly now on my side of the harbor and moving in my direction. Knowing the lightning speed at which these fish can travel, I was not waiting for the fish to blow up in front of me, and with that thought, I began a determined casting pattern. Rod tip down, medium to fast retrieve, keeping my silver and green epoxy jig in the water, my lure rippling just under the surface. Seconds later, a little tunny slammed my lure, my reel singing that sweet song, as the fish put the hammer down. Fighting like a fish five times its size, it managed to avoid the mooring ball, and after a heart-racing battle, I wrapped my hand around the forked tail of beautiful albie, its colors vibrant in shades of green, purple and silver. A quick picture, and a rocket release had the fish racing off to rejoin the school.

The albies would reappear a short time later, rewarding me with another silver bullet, but the action had died down somewhat. The fish appeared to have circled to the other side of the harbor once again; so I settled in for the waiting game, knowing it could take quite some time for them to make it back around. My eyes strained under the glare of the sun, now heading for its mid-morning approach, and time was ticking away as I waited.

Spanish Class

A gnawing in my stomach had me thinking of an iced coffee and a breakfast sandwich; but it was then that I noticed some activity down along the jetty. I had taken a station at the tip of the jetty to give myself a platform to allow for fan casting from three points of advantage; however, down one side of the jetty, a relatively deep pocket, with a sharp drop off into the harbor, was inviting. And judging by the occasional splash along the dropoff, the invitation had been accepted by unforeseen customers. They did not appear to be albies, at least not showing their giveaway frothing on the surface; but albies can be tricky that way.

With that in mind, I worked my way toward the corner, and began a similar retrieve for albies. My first cast resulted in a bump, but no hookup. A few more bumps and I opted to change up my presentation. Switching to a pink jig, I slowed my retrieve and worked my lure back in a tempting side to side swimming motion. The hit was nearly instantaneous, a decent-sized fish; and while there was a strong initial run, this was not fighting like an albie. The stunning yellow spots of the Spanish mackerel were quick to give away its identity, my first of the season. Another Spanish would fall to my offering, as they were working bait along the edge. With the sun getting higher, the bite had evaporated. Breakfast was on tap, so I headed for the coffee shop.

mackarel — The Spanish mackerel stands as the biggest obstacle to any grand slam bid.

Bone Cruise

I pulled into a south-Cape location that overlooked Nantucket Sound. Savoring the last bite of my croissant egg n’ cheese, I hopped out to chat with a kayaker who was heading in after a morning filled with albies, with a few bonito in the mix. I had already had a killer start to the day, but this certainly piqued my interest. High tide would be two hours out at a nearby beach that fishes well with the incoming flood, pushing bait down the beach. I’d caught numerous false albacore there in the past; and with this latest report from my kayak brethren, a thought started to burn in my salty brain. It wasn’t a “shore” thing by any means, but the possibility existed. A funny fish shore slam?

From the overlook, a scenic viewing spot complete with a dedicated bench, and wooden platform with stairs extending down to the beach, it looked like the tropics. Bluebird skies, puffy clouds, a slight chop, and a way’s off to the east, down the shoreline, a frenzied white blur in an otherwise blue sea. The scene surely represented albies in an all-out feed. I could tell the mass was moving west, towards my current position. Quickly gathering my gear, I scurried down the steps to the base where a perfect jetty stretched outward. Cautiously stepping to the end as far as safe conditions allowed, the frenzy was almost upon me as I let sail with my epoxy jig. My cast landed directly in the madness and I was hooked up immediately. I had already suspected the fish at play in front of me were not albies at all, not revealing themselves in the usual aerial display. Some short minutes later, my suspicions were confirmed. The brilliant green and black bars of a bonito are unmistakable, and as I worked the fish to the end of the jetty, it dawned on me: I had just notched my first funny fish slam!

Sometimes, the conditions are right, the bait is present, and our southern visitors all decide to show up together, and when they do, it’s best to keep your ear to the pelagic telegraph, network, check the rumors and reports, and be prepared. Preparation is your best friend if you want to get in on a shore slam. I’ll see you in the suds!