THE RADAR TOWER, CUTTYHUNK
41.412408° N, 70.949757° W
It was late-September on Cuttyhunk; we were walking out for the third night of a four-night stay, and the fishing had not been too exciting. My friends Mike and Josh and I were trying to lay out a solid plan for the night. Several of the other guys had given in and were planning to toss topwaters at sunset and then work on lightening the coolers a bit; we were determined to make them regret it.
We decided to fish a few of the famous spots—The Highflyer, The Pyramids, Bass Bend—with the intention of being at the Radar Tower, the western tip of the island, for high water; 11 sharp. We reasoned that with so few fish around the island that anywhere that current might concentrate might also concentrate bait and bass. We set our minds to fishing that spot for at least two hours.
As the darkness fell we arrived at The Highflyer, but we kept walking; we took the cliff trail and hoofed it all the way out to The Pyramids and fished—with haste—as we leapfrogged toward the tower. As we arrived we were a full 90 minutes early, but the water was moving well, and there was very obvious bait activity right in front of us as the last of the incoming tide was sucked around the tip and into Buzzards Bay.
The water came to slack, and we only had one or two schoolies to show for it, and I had hooked one decent fish that came off in the boulders. When I could feel the tide coming back the other way, I switched to eels. I moved down another 70 yards and bobbed out to a rock directly in front of the short, gray tower. I made a cast with my eel and began the retrieve; within seconds I felt a thump and a few minutes later I had a 28-pounder at my feet. Then I saw that Josh was tight. Another cast, another fish—this one around 20 pounds; Josh’s fish was of similar size. The action lasted about an hour. If I remember correctly we had about a dozen fish between us ranging from 16 to 28 pounds. Mike was well to our east and his score was not quite so rosy.
When we returned to the club after sunrise, most of the guys were out sipping coffee, looking chipper and well-rested; I think I even caught a whiff of cologne! One of them asked how we did with a tone that suggested he knew we didn’t do much. When we told him, his only reply was, “No way!” We’ll never know if he actually believed us—but either way it’s a win. This was obviously not one of those legendary Cuttyhunk moments but if that area can concentrate fish when there’s next to nothing out there; just imagine what might transpire on that western tip when the surf is alive with big ones.
