Striper logic, as it applies to togging.
When I first took a job with The Fisherman, back in 2007, I had never fished for tautog. At that time, togging was kind of considered to be an old school thing, done with old, beefy rods and conventional reels that creaked like the corroded winch on an ancient boat trailer. I pictured a boat full of grumpy old men, cutting crabs and drinking burnt coffee from a dented thermos bought when one of them returned home from World War II. Cigars, winter hats, unshaven faces, dirty slickers and one goal, to fill the freezer. I suppose that’s a string of a really unfair assumptions, but that’s how stereotypes are, and that really is what the 27-year-old me imagined.
The job opened many new doors, and one of them opened up to what has become a lifelong friendship with fellow writer and charter captain, John P. Lee. In fact, it was John that introduced me to blackfishing several years ago. It was shore trip from the rocks of Narragansett Bay. I remember pulling up to the spot with John and my old fishing partner, Dave Daluz, and saying out loud, “For some reason I don’t think I’m going to be good at this!” Dave, who had done a lot of togging over the years, chimed right in and said, “No, you’ll be really good at this, and it’s something I think you’re really gonna like.”
That simple sentence put my anxiety at ease and shot my confidence through the roof. We arrived at the spot and I put the first fish on the rocks that day, within two minutes of arriving. He was right, on both counts.
Surfcaster’s Perspective
There was a lot to like about togging; the fish were abundant and competitive, the bites were hard, and hooking the fish was a challenge. And that doesn’t even include their dogged battles or their beautiful smiles. But the thing that stood out immediately as the thing I liked best about them is that, like striped bass, their habitat had a look to it, and yet, not every place that looked good was productive. That left me with many new challenges to untangle and understand; and that’s the aspect of fishing that I love the most.
A few years later, I had done a fair amount of shore togging, but only logged a handful of trips from a boat. I was invited on a trip with Capt. Jason Colby of Little Sister Charters who runs out of Westport, MA. Jason is among the best fishermen I have ever fished with and I learned so much on that six hour trip. For instance, Jason puts in countless hours each year, charting out new rocks and structures where blackfish might take up residence, and giving each one a number on his chartplotter. As we motored out of the marina Jason said, “Today I think we’ll fish spot 135 and spot 68, then we might take a little bit of a ride and try one more spot.”
As I let his words sink in, I came to the fast realization that there was mostly likely a spot 1, so it’s reasonable to assume that he has marked, at least, 135 spots within an acceptable range of his slip! So I asked him, “Do you try to only fish each spot a few times per season?” He kind of chuckled and said, “Yeah, pretty much.”
We caught fish everywhere we stopped, and if my memory serves we actually hit four spots. But there was one particular spot where my surfcasting mind seemed to make a difference. We were off the tip of a prominent point, probably 3/4 of a mile off the shore. The water was about 44 feet deep and there was a big, flat rock that Jason described as being, “a bit larger than a pool table.” He muscled us into position using his Minn Kota Terrova trolling motor and instructed us to drop our lines. My eyes were transfixed on the fishfinder, staring at this rock on the bottom, that looked like a black plateau surrounded by rubble.
The other anglers on the boat started hooking fish, but they were mostly smaller tog and some respectable sea bass that had to be tossed back because the season was closed. Jason seemed frustrated, he seemed to know that there were big fish on this piece. I stood, looking over the side, watching the tide screaming by and listening to the Minn Kota working to keep us on the numbers. I pictured it like I was trying to swing a darter over a current-swept rock or bounce a bucktail off a submerged ledge that I knew was there, only by feel. I then tied on a heavier jig, baited it with a whole, large green crab and pitched it up-tide, I felt it thump to the bottom several seconds later. After 2 minutes, I was only getting little grinding taps. I re-baited and pitched the jig to the front of the boat and tried again.
After some more testing, I found the formula; I had to flip the jig about 15 feet past the bow of the boat to get it to settle in the hot zone. My first good hit ended up being the biggest fish of the trip and still stands as my personal best, at 26 inches and 13 pounds. I also had a few other good fish, and my counterparts had a few nice fish, but nothing like the two horses I landed by targeting what was directly below the boat. I knew I was onto something when Jason grabbed a rod, just prove a point, and also pitched his bait past the bow and hooked up within seconds of his rig touching the bottom. So it really pays to pay attention to the current and how it will carry your jig or rig while it descends to the bottom.
Targeted Togging
This type of fishing seems simple enough, find a piece of rocky bottom, a bridge abutment, a shipwreck or section of artificial reef and drop a baited rig or jig into the structure and the rest should take care of itself. Right? Keeping things as elementary as possible, yes it could be that simple. But there are many factors that come into play when setting up on structure. Some of them are simple, perhaps even, obvious…others, maybe not so much.
For starters, dropping a rig into the structure is really not wise. “We typically don’t drop rigs into any of the rockpiles or wrecks we fish, unless it’s by accident,” said Capt. Jason Colby, adding “Typically, when someone gets their bait in the rocks, it results in a lost rig.” The plan of attack is actually to fish the clearer bottom beside the structure and to try and draw the blackfish that are holding within or around it to come out to investigate what smells so good. A big key in doing this is to get as close as possible to where the tog live, without landing right in their living room.
Another tip is to assess the drift direction before setting the anchor or hitting the Spot Lock button on your Minn Kota. Once you’ve determined the drift direction, setting up on the up-drift side of the structure will ensure that the scent and any pieces that might break free, plus any pieces thrown over the side will drift into the structure, giving all the fish on that piece, a steady stream of reasons to move toward your baits to investigate. Just make sure to take the strength of the current into account or your baits may touch down in the rocks, wreck or reef, increasing the likelihood of a snag or being cut off by a fish.
Escalate The Bite
It is possible to set up over a spot and start catching keeper (or larger) fish right away, but it’s not common. Typically, a blackfish bite starts off slow, but the patient angler will reap the rewards. Don’t take those short, ‘crunchy’ bites as a sign that the spot is overrun with small fish. If you’ve set up properly, using the current to entice more fish out of the structure, waiting out those smaller, bait-stealing nibbles will transition into some bigger fish crashing the party.
This is another tactic that I borrowed from surfcasting for stripers and applied to togging. In the surf, it often takes a little while for a striper bite to build in the surf. The sound of the lures hitting the water and the sense of ‘activity’ in the water will draw in stripers. The same thing is happening down on the bottom around the reefs and ledges. These smaller fish like cunners, juvie sea bass, or porgies and small tog, are not nuisance fish, but instead they’re your best helpers, tearing up those first few rounds of baits sent to the bottom, creating commotion and a scent trail for bigger fish to follow to your baits. All that commotion and scent combines to give these bigger fish a reason to move away from the safety of the structure and then to bully those little fish out of there and chomp down on whatever you’re throwing.
Most seasoned tog anglers recommend fishing for 20 to 30 minutes before moving off of a fishy piece of structure. That’s about the longest it typically takes to draw larger fish out to feed. Longer than that, the odds are you’re not going to get that big bite and you should consider moving on to your next target.
I have a mantra that I apply to all types of fishing, “fish are fish.” What that means is that when you learn something about one species, it is very often applicable to many other species. As a longtime surfcaster and striper-obsessed fisherman, there are a ton of parallels between these two species that share the same water, relate to same structure and feed on many of the same organisms. I’m also a big proponent of applying common sense to fishing. Something like anchoring up-current of the structure you’re fishing makes logical sense, but not everyone thinks of it!
Blackfish are an amazing species that fight hard and provide some of the best table fare of any northeast species, apply these tactics and you’ll hook more tog and eat a little better this fall.