It’s a warm, humid Block Island night, the kind you get in early summer when the mainland is baking. Dark of the moon. Surf on the low side of moderate, but enough to create a wash zone and necessitate mends over the tops of incoming waves. I’ve scoured the trough of this beach for over an hour with a Big Eelie, and made the decision that it’s not happening. I glance at my watch. 11:25pm. Normally, I’d be all fired up, knowing that if there are no bass here, they’ll be somewhere else, and — best of all — I have another two hours to fish. Maybe three, if the bite is good. But I’m about to do something extraordinary. I catch the fly in the hook holder, reel up, and head back to the Jeep. I’m done. Heading back to the cottage.
What’s extraordinary about this is that in all my decades of fishing Block Island, I’ve never quit a night session before midnight.
This makes three consecutive years of disappointing fishing from the shore on Block Island, and this was the worst by far. The story is one I could tell you in numbers: Seven nights. Five striped bass. Four skunks (six if you count my two daytime sight fishing blanks). No fish over 22″. And the third straight year I’ve failed to land a bass of 10 pounds of better.
What’s behind all this? I can give you my best guesses. A burgeoning grey seal population. Warming inshore waters. Bass that never showed up inshore in numbers in June, so why would they show up now? An abundance of food and cooler water offshore. Dwindling striper stocks. I can tell tell you with fierce conviction that the patterns from ten years ago are a distant, bittersweet memory. Fish are aren’t where they were a decade ago (and don’t get me started on 15-20 years ago). It’s enough to make me heave a rueful sigh.
It’s not for lack of bait. Crabs everywhere. More sand eels than I’ve seen in recent summers, although they were much smaller (1″-2″) than usual. Squid galore. In fact, four nights into the trip, I’d landed as many squid as bass. To amuse myself, I turned on my light and watched the squid attack my sand eel fly. Squid generally muddle along, but their closing speed is impressive. And the bite is not. I sight fished two days on Crescent Beach and blanked on both. The first day I only saw a total of six cruising targets, and some of those may have been the same fish. The second day, in 90 minutes, I didn’t see a single bass(!). Really? Then there was plain old bad luck. I had confirmed reports of smaller bass blitzing sand eels at dusk on two consecutive nights. The first night, I’d gotten a late start, and I caught the last remaining bass of that feed. The next night, I missed it entirely. Not to be denied, I showed up at the mark the third night ready to fish at 8:30pm. Same tide window, same wind direction, same barometer, and…nothing. No bass, no blitz. You really can’t make this garbage up.A rocky point, structure, and wash over a sandy bottom holding bait. Scouting mission complete, I headed back after dark to fish the same tide. 15 years ago, I’d be posting pictures of one of the 20-pounders I released. This year, you get a nice seascape. That’s all there is to see here, folks.Mr. Dour out for an evening stroll. By the end of the week, I was rationalizing my existence by viewing my time as enjoying a good cigar, and oh, by the way, I’ll also be doing this casting and mending thing, too. Mid-week, there was a Steve Culton sighting. An angler was coming out as I was going in, and exclaimed, “I know you! You’re the Block Island fly fishing guy. Steve.” Turns out he’d never fished the Island before, and came across some of the articles I’d written while doing a search. As always, if you see me out and about, please come say hello. I highly recommend ‘Gansett tall boys, fresh steamers, and Ballard’s famous lobster as a consolation prize. And don’t forget Aldo’s ice cream!
currentseams.com 