When a blitz goes off, etiquette reveals the clearest path to ensuring that everyone has a good time.
I may be young, but I am very observant. No matter the situation or where I may be, I’m always analyzing what I see and taking mental notes. One thing that I am starting to see more and more of is the blind ignorance of the masses when a blitz erupts during the fall run.
Every surfcaster has been there, but it’s what motivates you that dictates that all-important next step. Practically a contact sport, blitz fishing from my local waters consists of standing shoulder to shoulder, casting over under, left and right of each other’s lines, and looking back to see more trucks flying down the beach to get in on the action.
“Helter Skelter” indeed, but how you handle it shows if you are there take part in the spectacle or if you’re in pursuit of the “fortune and glory” that comes from getting a few likes on your social. Fishing, for me is a stress reliever, a fun learning experience, not something I should be stressing about, and certainly not a reason to pound my chest. After what I’ve seen these last few years, the average surfcaster needs to reevaluate why they’re out there and remember that this is supposed to be fun, for everyone.
Now of course it’s not all the angler’s fault; after a dry spell, surfcasters can get a little antsy and excitement explodes when the action ramps up. Some forget that, even when the fish show, it doesn’t guarantee that you will find them. You might spend an entire day, hitting all the spots that make sense and the fish just won’t cooperate. Or you might find them a mile out, surrounded by boats, and well out of range. Frustrating? Yes.
But, when the fish are finally in range, common sense and courtesy should not be thrown to the wind. A prime example of this was a day last season during what should’ve been the peak of the fall run. My fishing partner and I were waded out on the sandbar, around 11 a.m., so the morning crowd of buggies had mostly dispersed. We had a giant pod of bunker in front of us and with how timid they were acting, we knew there had to be stripers just past the bar, so we waited for that push.
After some time stirring up those fish and getting destroyed by waves, we waded back in so as not to lose our path back. This was good news though, incoming tide would push more water over the bar and might bring the bait and bass in with it. Not long after getting back to shore, the bass showed and began smacking the bunker sky high. We had a National Geographic scene all to ourselves… for now. After swapping to a hefty 3-ounce pencil popper, I bombed an Olympic-distance cast right into the bass and, as soon as the pencil hit the water, I saw a giant mouth take the plug, followed by a massive tail smashing the water.
I had hooked into one of the larger stripers hanging outside of the pack of schoolies, my 10-foot rod was doubled and my drag was already tight. Mind you, I casted far, so I had quite the fight ahead of me. I was taking my time, but I looked behind me, a guy had jumped out of his truck, rod in hand and phone glued to his ear, the jig was up. Before I could even roll my eyes, trucks were flying over the dunes and parking on top of us.
I was still fighting this fish as people started mugging our spot, while both of us were tight to fish! My fish was almost in, the surfcaster to my left was courteous, he just stood there and watched me bring in this fish to see if I needed help. The surfcasters to my right however, jumped right in and were pointing their rods right at my line in the water. They looked over and I asked politely “I have a fish in front of you, can you just wait to cast so I can bring this in please?” Place your bets on what happened next: ignoring my pleas, both of them cast over my line, tangled the three of us and of course, popped my fish off.
My initial reaction was shock but I kept my mouth shut. I looked over at them, and both of them hit me with a snooty, “oh, sorry” and I walked off. One fish is not worth brawling over, especially over people’s immature ignorance. When it comes right down to it, no fish is worth those extremes, be like the guy on the left of me, because showing patience and a willingness to help instead of messing up someone else’s day, will guarantee a better experience for everyone. Take the ignorant approach with the wrong person, and you might get a whole lot more than just the nasty glare I shot at the duo that “helped me release” the biggest fish of the day.
