Striper report: If you want to catch big bass on a consistent basis, do this

Anyone can luck into a big fish. Way back when, when I was just starting out, I wanted no part of that. I wanted to be able to consistently catch big stripers.

If you want to catch big bass — and make it repeatable — you don’t need a casting lesson. You don’t need to be able to reach 90 feet. You don’t need the latest in intermediate line technology. You don’t need a huge monstrosity that looks more like a plug than a fly.

You need to study. And ask questions. Why would there be a big striped bass where I’m fishing? Is there current, cover, and food? Is it pre-spawn? Is it migration time? Is the bait spawning (and therefore gathering in large numbers)? Is it dark, so the fish feels comfortable coming in close? What’s the barometer doing? Which way is the wind blowing? What’s the tide, and how is it moving? These are all part of the equation.

Then, you need the right fly. Something that looks like the bait, or what the bait should be at this time and place. Does the fly look alive and like something good to eat, even when at rest?

Don’t forget presentation. You need to learn that, too. Big fish are lazy, and frequently unwilling to chase. How can you present the fly in a way that makes it easy for the striper to eat?

Last but not least, you need to put in your time. There is no substitute for time on the water. You can do all of the above, check all the boxes, and still blank. (Ask me how I know.) Nevermind, I’ll just tell you. Last year, I fished the mark I fished last week six times and had only two tiny bass nibbles and no bass to hand for my efforts. But every year is different, and this is what I found on a greased line swing with an 11″ Bombardier flatwing in March of 2024:

Miss Piggy went 25 pounds and taped 39 inches. This was one of the best fights I’ve ever had with a bass, and I hope to write about it sometime soon. I am humbled and grateful for the chance to hook, land, and release this fish. I’ve been doing this for years, folks, and I was so pumped with adrenaline that my hand was shaking as I took this photo.

Last night, while you were sleeping…

…I was catching my first striped bass of 2022. The conditions weren’t great — rising barometer, gusty winds, cold, rain showers — brrrr! But you don’t know if you don’t go, and she was right where she was supposed to be. She hit the Rock Island flatwing like a ton of bricks and gave me a couple powerful, short runs. The presentation was a greased line swing, and the hit came about halfway through the delivery.

Not huge, but 10 pounds is 10 pounds. This is the first slot fish I’ve taken in a long time.

Striper mini-report 5/5/21: Last night, while you were sleeping…

…I was standing in a river, practicing my greased line swings with a floating line and a 10″ Rock Island flatwing. My casting was good enough. My presentations were spot on. The bass were…not there. At least not in any numbers. We saw some wakes and swirls made by herring, but nothing to suggest that they were present en masse. We heard a couple reports of bass crashing bait, but they were in the first 30 minutes of our 2+ hour session, and then nothing. So it goes. This is why it’s called putting in your time.

In between casts, I found my mind wandering toward Block Island: plans and schemes and hopes and dreams. I could use a striper rainbow right about now.

Striper mini-report 4/24/21: Slow she goes

Toby Lasinski and I spent a few hours Saturday night banging around the shores of LIS looking for stripers. It was a slow night, with only one fish to hand, silvery sub-slot bass that nailed Toby’s surface swimmer. Not a touch for me, fishing a Rock Island flatwing/bucktail, and then a deer hair head whatchamacallit. There’s not much for me to tell, other than I saw some new water and got in some casting practice. (OK, the company and the cigar were pretty swell, so that counts for something.) Every day is different, and at some point this slowness will surely change. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

It felt good to taste saltwater on my fingertips. After a briny session like this, everything — rod, reel, flies — gets a good rinsing with tap water, then an air drying. Some of the water we fished reminded me of the Cape and Block Island, and I’m looking forward to fishing those places again.