A week or so ago we were tucked in pretty tight to the boulder field when the incoming tide and a strengthening southwesterly breeze was just beginning to move us in closer than I wanted to be. Andy had a fish on, so I told him to hang on as I trolled around and away from a boulder awash at Mattapoisett Neck and stopped to give him time to tame the striper. While I have caught some respectable stripers in the shallows there at daybreak I have fooled much larger bass (to 28 pounds) trolling my tube and worm rigs, quietly, along the edges of the rocks in a northeasterly direction in the 12- to 18-foot depths. To be honest, that was not my original destination a week or so later as we were heading to Nyes Ledge and the Bow Bells to scratch up a few sea bass and a tog or two that were ordered by my bride. I seldom plot a direct course to my nearshore destination, particularly along such a productive area, so I checked out the locations where I’ve had success in the past.
As usual, I altered my course as I approached the neck where I noticed a collection of fat and sassy seagulls resting on the water wearing that smug post-breakfast smile on their beaks that said, “you should have been here a half hour ago.” Just because they were resting was no reason to keep moving on. You ignore gulls to your detriment, because I have been using those feathered drones for ages with impressive results. Gulls don’t usually lie unless they are picking away at a wrack line of floating garbage. I could smell fish so without making a cast, I quietly idled around until I spotted a slick in the area where a group of boulders, created roiling water just under the surface. That was the first live water I had seen. I removed my locator popper and snapped on a tiny Kastmaster and sent it over the slick, allowed it to sink and began to work it alongside the structure when it was inhaled by a striper. Andy’s first cast also brought a few slaps and boils but nothing solid. They didn’t want his medium-sized popper either Just then my mate noticed both gulls and terns working surface commotion about 250 yards away. “Hey, let’s go” he ordered. You don’t leave fish to find fish, so I pointed to the little silver Ava Jig hanging from a rack. Using that tin he also hooked up on his very first cast.
We had those fish, which were stripers from 5 to 15 pounds, with what would have included a few of the size of the unicorns we refer to as slot fish these days. We were into that action for over a half hour and watched as boats coming out of Mattapoisett and Marion spotted that distant surface mayhem and gave chase, sounding and scattering them while we remained into fish all that time without the benefit or whirring or diving birds.
What some fishermen refer to as Mattapoisett Neck is actually an assemblage of rocky bottom and prominent points, rips and high ground that provide cover for baitfish and ideal places for bass to scratch up a meal. Mattapoisett Ledge is excellent cover, Ram and Seal Island as well as Gallatin Rock are nearby humps we have caught fish without any help from our feathered friends. While all of the aforementioned locations requires a boat there are a few surf sharpies of my acquaintance who manage to gain access through what is almost all private property.
There are nearby ramps, which I find problematic due to parking and other restrictions, so I launch from the easily accessed ramp off Sconticut Neck road which has a modest fee and plenty of free parking and dumps you out into the shallow, yet passable, Nasketucket Bay. In fact the entire shoreline once you reach the Neck provides good casting and trolling all the way to Sippican Neck and Bird Island Reef. We don’t always find fish here but I seldom run by these locations, particularly in the low light of dawn and dusk because they have been so rewarding throughout the decades I have fished there. It’s more than worth a try.
