Let me get the sweet Super Strike winner announced first. The lucky dude is Chuck Duval. Chuck ,please send me your shipping address. Congratulations.

I have to tell you, I though this winter is going to be “down time” but it has been anything but. With the  re launching of SJ in the new format, bringing new guys on like Dave Anderson and John Skinner and life?…oh my God it has been crazy between kids concerts, sat prep, college visit planning. I was looking forward to a quick trip to Florida to take care of some personal stuff but of course, as soon as I landed, the weather turned to shit and I thought I was going to freeze to death. Never fails..

I did have very limited time to spend there to get all the stuff I planned done. And in that very short window I found out two things. After two months of three-times-a-week elbow therapy it only took 5 casts to scream in pain, worst than before starting the therapy.

And two, Crazy Alberto might be actually crazier than you think. Or I think. Or we all think. Who am I kidding, he is insane. And although I am much younger than him there is no way I could keep up with him even if I had an elbow that was pain free.

Anyway, I got some video to show you when I get to editing room next week. Ok, when I turn my chair towards my Mac. But you knew there was no editing “room”. For now I will only tell you this. I am a Super Strike Darter fan. I won’t be lying if I told you that if I owned 300 darters and 299 are by Super Strike. I used to own wood darters by other makers but found myself using them less and less so I unloaded them

Tactical Angler Darters? I knew guys who have good success with them but honestly I never gave them a fair shake. They are fairly new and my elbow has been bad for so long, even the thought of casting a 3 ounce anything  makes me shudder.

So on this night, somewhere in the fishiest state of USA I grabbed a camera while Crazy Al fished and fished and fished..started at 8 PM and I found him at 7 AM after I took a nap in truck still casting. He is certifiably insane, crazy is just too mild of a term. But I did managed to get few shots with camera and video. There were BIG REDFISH . Much bigger than I thought existed to be honest and there were so many. To see two of them on consecutive casts eat a big Tactical Anglers Darter was an eye-opening experience. I never though they eat plugs like that and certainly not an 7 inch one!

Here is the shot of Al few seconds after he got the fish out of the rocks. The most disturbing thing to me is showing some friends this picture and them asking “he did not catch it on that plug, did he?”. Of course he did and I was glad to be manning the camera. Wait till you see the video. And there were big snook there, holy crap were they big. They could eat ones I caught over the years. My props to the Crazy One who seems to be as aware of where the big fish are in Florida as he was in New York. More on this later in a week…

I found a rock that wouldn’t be my first choice if the adrenaline did not get the best of me. It was a pointy rock with only a small flat section, enough to put your feet on. Casting and trying not to fall off the rock was hard enough, never mind fighting the swells that were intent on pushing me off. But I managed to hold on most of the time. Ray on the other hand got blown off his rock quickly. Realizing that the tide was coming in and the waves were only going to get bigger, he scurried back to the shore to regroup and find another perch.

I’ve never been a fan of tossing a rigged eel in the daytime but in this case I made an exception and attached it to my clip. By this time the sun had set and I could see the two Mike’s perched on the rock with their red lights going on and off every few minutes. What I couldn’t see was if they were landing the fish or they had issues with their equipment. I lobbed a heavy twenty inch eel towards the horizon and began a rhythmic pumping with my rod. On about the third lift of my rod, the rigged eel got smacked hard. I tried to set the hook but I missed and lost my balance and fell backwards off the rock. I tried to get back on it before the swell arrived but the wave beat me to the rock and pushed me ten yards backwards. I fought through the oncoming waves, frantically trying to retrieve the line so it didn’t get entangled in the rocks and bubble weed that carpeted the bottom. I finally managed to retrieve all of my line and get back on the rock. I cursed under my breath for having missed the hit and fired off another cast.

As my rigged eel sailed away into the darkness, a massive wind knot followed it into the ocean. In a panic, I tried to retrieve it, only to realize there was another wind knot still on the spool. I stripped the line quickly trying to get to it, knowing that if I didn’t take care of this problem quickly, my line was going to be helplessly tangled in the rocks. I quickly realized that there was no way I could take care of two tangled webs of braid and decided to try to retrieve the line, save my eel and go back on shore to deal with it. After completing this task I removed the rigged eel from the clip and waded to shore.

I strung my line for what it seemed like a hundred yards, along the rocks in the cove above high water mark, trying to get to the tangle. It took me a good hour to straighten out the mess. I eventually ended up having to cutting the bird’s nest from the line and reconnecting. By the time I got back onto the rock, an hour must have passed and so had the bite. Ray yelled over the surf that he dropped a monster on a Hogy, just minutes before. I cast in vain for the next hour but the fish seemed to have moved off and Ray and I left in search of a more productive spot. We found a few fish at Southwest Point but nothing like the night before. Around 1:00 AM Ray started to feel lightheaded and we decided to head back to the house. We slowly made our way back over the winding path while I kept an eye on Ray the whole time. After walking for about 10 minutes we found Mike Luccini lying on the grass waiting for Mike Veraka to return on his quad after dropping his catch in the cooler at the dock. They had three fish in the 40’s and numerous smaller fish but the bite died just about the same time that Ray and I split. I cursed my line for taking me out of action when the cows had showed up to graze. I decided right then and there that no one would beat me to that rock the next night, even if I had to go sit there starting at noon. The two Mike’s were not coming back the next day, and I doubted either Don or Larry were into swimming out to that rock.

I woke up in the morning cranky yet brimming with anticipation. It was my last night on the island and my wife was having a really hard time at home. She let me join in her misery via text messages every so often. At one point I was ready to pack my shit and get on the 4:00 PM ferry. Fortunately, the ferry left at noon that day for some unknown reason and there was no other way to get to the mainland. Ray was going to stay a few more days and greet Tommy, Lenny and Rob in the morning while tonight was my last shot at having a memorable night.

I won’t lie to you. I would have been happy with a 25 pound bass. First of all, the two Mike’s used live eels, something I never quite took a liking to. Second, chasing yesterday’s bite always proves to be disappointing in the end. I received a text message from Veraka in the afternoon saying that the fish they kept weighed in at 40 and 44 pounds. Sure, put another dagger in my heart! He did say that he thought we were going to slaughter them as we had, in his opinion, perfect conditions.

We descended down to the cove at 7:00 PM. We placed our waterproof Aquapac backpack, filled with water and spare rigged eels on a big rock so we could find it later without stumbling in the darkness. As we screwed around with our waterproof cameras, Larry and Don came down the cliff. My Montauk instincts told me to make a beeline for the rock immediately but my conscience told me to stay and exchange pleasantries. It was the right thing to do as neither one of them wanted any part of swimming to the rock we wanted to get on.

Don walked to our left while Larry got on the rock to our right. Ray and I floated to the rock and got on with no problems. The tide was just coming in and the rock was exposed, almost level with the water. The surf was gentle and I knew from previous trips that if it stayed this way, we could stand on this rock till morning if we wanted to without getting knocked off. As soon as we started casting we noticed baitfish around the rock and they were thick! Huge clouds of bait were flashing their silvery sides. At first we thought they were sand eels but after Ray impaled one on his treble hook on the retrieve we realized they were juvenile herring, about 4 inches long. Ray could not contain his excitement and he kept saying, “Wait till the bass find this mother lode.” And you know what? He was absolutely right. Except what happened next will be one of the most exhilarating and disappointing nights in our lives. PICTURE 4

Within an hour we had stripers rolling through the bait. They were in front of us, besides us and even behind us. They were everywhere. Unfortunately we forgot to bring a net because scooping them up was the only way we were going to catch any. We threw darters, metal lip swimmers, bucktails, needlefish, rigged eels and rubber baits and we could not get a single bump. Not a swipe, not a boil, not even a sniff! To say that we were frustrated would be a colossal understatement. We had fish rolling within a rod length away, in front and behind us but failed to elicit a single bump. Don was the only one to hook up, I believe on a jointed swimmer. We tried those too. Ray had a beautiful Fixter jointed Pikie that swam so enticingly I wanted to eat it, but the fish again showed no interest.

At 9:30 PM I looked at my watch and realized that the fish and the bait were gone. Now we were casting into an ocean that seemed devoid of any life. There was no discussion on changing plans and swimming to shore to try another spot. This rock was going to be our feast or famine, and by the looks of it, we were going to be walking home hungry.

Ray is an accomplished fisherman who has done just about everything a surfcaster can aspire to accomplish. He has fished the Cape, Block Island, Montauk and even Costa Rica. He has caught fish from the surf in every way possible. There hasn’t been a year when he hasn’t caught a good number of big fish but that elusive 50 pound mark keeps evading him. He had fish well over the magic mark from a boat, but from the surf he always managed to catch fish a few ounces shy of 50. He is a student of the game who spends an incredible amount of time tinkering with his lures, retrieves and strategies trying to outsmart the fish. The year 2010 was the year he decided he wanted to catch big fish on lures. No live eels, something that served him well over the years and no bait. He never was a meat slinger.

On this night, after casting every lure in his bag twice he was stumped. I didn’t fare any better but I reasoned that because I stuck with a rigged eel, most of the smaller fish that were rolling on the surface ignored it. I expected him at least to get a bump considering he was changing plugs every few casts and he knew how to fish. I told him to try a rigged eel but he said no thanks. After all, I wasn’t doing anything with my rigged eel. His stubbornness in trying to prove that a lure could be as effective as a rigged eel would come to haunt him. We just did not know it was going to happen so quickly.PICTURE 5

I felt a good bump and instinctively set the hook. The fish did not appreciate the feel of cold steel implanted in its cheek and started to thrash wildly on the surface. I have a superstition that makes me shy away from discussing the size of a fish until I see it at my feet. Ray asked, “Is it a good fish?” I said it felt okay, not a monster by any means. Maybe it was because I stood on a rock for hours without a bump, or maybe it was my wishful thinking but when I brought the fish close to my rock I told him “Get your camera ready.” Only after grabbing its lip did I realize that the fish was only about twenty pounds. Considering I am 6’3” and 220 pounds I probably appeared in the pictures like I was holding a schoolie. But the darn fish did look big at the time… “did” being the most important part of that sentence. I say this because on the next cast my rigged eel got walloped and this fish dwarfed the previous one. Ray said, “It looks like 30 pounds” and after I removed the hook I hoisted it on the 30 pound Boga Grip that I carry on my belt and sure enough, 30 pounds on the nose. I asked him to take another picture and he obliged but not too happily this time.

I take a lot of pictures of people fishing. Sometimes on a weekend trip I might take 500 or a 1000 pictures, which I will weed through when I get home. I’ve also been known to put my rod down in a blitz and take out the camera. It doesn’t bother me one bit. I always felt that pictures are best done during the day and fishing is best done at night. But as a result, although I have thousands of images on my hard drive, there are less than a handful of pictures of me. That is why I was glad Ray was there, to capture the moment of triumph.

After releasing the thirty pounder, I checked the rigged eel for any damage. This is the first eel I’ve ever rigged using plastic ties instead of waxed thread. I was concerned to see if it was going to hold up when I finally got into some good fish. The eel looked fine; it had turned bluish color and it started to tear a little around the ties but it was still in great shape. Ray switched over to a North Bar Bottledarter, a lure with which we have caught many good sized fish over the last few years. He did get a bump but he missed the fish. He said, “If you hook up again, I am taking a rigged eel out of your pouch.”

As my eel landed in the water with a huge “splat” that only a rigged eel can make, I began my retrieve but it was interrupted immediately. A large fish was now the owner of the rigged eel while my drag peeled at an alarming rate. “Wow, that looks like a big fish” Ray said while at the same time grabbing a rigged eel from my bag. I said nothing but continued to work my rod with a series of short pumps, quickly retrieving my line. The fish took another run and peeled off almost as much line as it did on the first run. My heart was beating frantically, almost jumping out of my skin but I said nothing and just kept trying to get the fish closer to our rock. All of a sudden the line went slack. “Ohhhh, no Zeno” was all Ray said while I knelt down on the rock and let out a scream. I could not believe that a 9/0 VMC Siwash barb allowed her to become unbuttoned!

I brought the rigged eel back to the surface and checked it but the eel and hooks were still in fine shape. We both cast for about ten minutes when Ray said, “Here is your rigged eel. I’ll stick to plugs. Rigged eels are really not my thing anyway.” He had not even finished the sentence when I felt a strong thump on my eel and I set the hook. This fish fought nothing like the one before, but once I got it in close to the rock and put on a light, Ray said, “That is a BIG fish.” I gripped its jaw with one hand while the other immediately went into my surf bag to pull out a 50 pound Manley scale. She weighed 44 pounds and after snapping a photo she swam away unharmed. My eel surprisingly enough was still in one piece although the skin had started to peel off from the body. Ray kept saying, “Just keep throwing THAT ONE. Do not change it. It has a ton of mojo.” As he said that he missed a nice fish that tried to engulf his black Slug-go just as he lifted it out of the water. That will be his second and final bump for the night.

Soon I was hooked up again with another fish that bottomed out the Boga Grip scale. It was about 11 PM and Ray had had enough. His back was bothering him and he said he was going to hang on the rock while I fished. I told him to use my rigged eel but he said he was perfectly happy watching me having the time of my life. I told him to swim back to the shore instead, if he wasn’t going to fish. No sense suffering in pain on the top of the rock in the middle of the ocean. By now the tide had flooded the cove and what was before a 20 yard swim from the rock we stood on, was now a hundred yard swim back to shore.

I watched him push off the rock and float on his back toward the shore. He must be a better man than I, because if that were me in his shoes, I’d probably have tried to drown myself. But Ray is truly one of a kind. If you ever need a friend, a true friend, I suggest you find someone like Ray. He’s always happy for everyone, always positive and always ready to lend a helping hand. I don’t think my brother would have been happier for me than Ray was. At this point, the action slowed down but this wasn’t indicative of future results. It seemed to me that this pod of big fish were circling the coves, looking for a meal and reappearing every half hour or so.

Ray was about half way back to shore when I set a hook on another good fish and I yelled “I’m on” towards him but he just waved me off and continued floating towards the shore. I knew that Boga wasn’t going to cut it on this fish and I was right. It pulled my Manley hand scale over the 40 pound mark. I hooked a smaller fish on the next cast, maybe close to twenty pounds and when I checked my eel, I noticed that its guts were now hanging off the body but remarkably it was still intact. Ray just kept needling me from the shore with “Stop whining and keep throwing that eel.” I made another cast with an eel that resembled something that would be better suited for a horror movie than for fishing. Peeling skin and hanging guts had no effect on the fish as a 36 pounder engulfed it immediately after I started my retrieve.

I took a few shots of the head of the fish and released it but the eel did not fare as well. It broke in half and the only thing that was holding the head and its stomach together was the Dacron connecting the hooks. Like a gravely wounded soldier that left his all on the battlefield, the eel crumpled in my rigged eel pouch while I attached a fresh one. I made twenty casts without a bump and pondered what to do. I had a suspicion that if I stayed on this rock for the dropping tide I could probably run into those fish again. But I had a buddy who was whipped on shore and not feeling great. I also had an early ferry to catch and a long, four hour drive home. The last thing you want to do is after you left your wife alone with the kids for 5 days is to show up at home and declare that you are tired from fishing all night. If you do, you better be prepared for what you’ll have coming to you. And learn how to duck.

I removed the rigged eel from my clip and attached the clip to the rod. Swimming with trebles attached to a guide, never mind giant 9/0 Siwash hooks never made any sense to me. Neither did walking on the rocks with a lure attached to a guide. Do you really think that you will need that lure within less time than it would take you to pull it out of your bag, because if you do, it probably wasn’t meant to be. I pushed myself off the rock and toward Ray, Don and Larry who were chatting up a storm on the shoreline. I turned on my back and let my feet float up to the surface. The gentle surf carried me towards the shore while I tried to soak in the scenery. The night sky was filled with stars; a quarter moon soared above the cliffs, while the bubble weed gently swayed underneath the surface. If there is a heaven where surfcasters go after they are done chasing bass here on Earth, this is what it must look like every day.

On my long ride home I pondered the ramifications of a special night like that. Was I now going to become a big fish hunter and chase only after big fish? Was I going to employ rigged eels exclusively from now on? Would I now become an “island snob,” a surfcaster who finds no pleasure fishing close to home and instead dreams about far away locales? Walking into my house and being warmly greeted by my family put any of those questions to rest. I’ll always be me, a surfcaster who enjoys catching fish of any size, in any place, at any time. Although I’ve caught some big fish over the years, for the first time in my life I came to the realization that nights like this do not happen often. They rarely happen on a sandy beach unless the fish are blitzing on bunker, which in my book requires no skill, just luck. For the first time I realized that if I wanted to have more nights like this I would have to get out further and fish with rigged eels until my arm wears out. Will I do it? I might on occasion, but I have a new found respect for those who practice this kind of fishing on a daily basis. To each his own! I’ve always said that I do not consider myself any more than an average surfcaster who manages to catch a lot of fish through pure perseverance. This night, my perseverance paid off in spades, for even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while!

This is one story from my new book HOOKED. Hope you enjoy it. We will get to Super Strike winner on the weekend.

This is Part 1 with Part 2 to follow

A Night to Remember

Every surfcaster, at some point, has a night in the surf which he will never forget, an epic event which he previously could have only dreamed about. I appreciate listening to stories of great catches told by my friends over the years. A night with nine fish over 30 pounds that my buddy Ray had a few years ago seemed more like a dream than something that could actually have transpired. I mean seriously, nine fish over 30 pounds? In one night? If I didn’t know Ray that well, I would probably think, like some of you are thinking as you are reading this, that he is full of crap. Ninety-nine percent of surfcasters, dead or alive will never experience something like that in their lives. Yet I am certain that this is a true accounting of an epic night. I know Ray too well to question the validity of his story, not only because he is a hell of a fisherman with skills that I only hope to match in this lifetime, but also because he is a trusted friend and he fishes in one of the most productive inlets on Long Island’s South Shore. We often discuss his past exploits, or I should say he reminds me of what is possible to achieve in this sport. With the state of the fishery today, I had doubts that I would ever have a night like he did. That is, until it actually happened…

Our annual June trip to Cuttyhunk Island, Massachusetts in 2010 started with a whimper. On Friday afternoon I boarded the Sea Horse Water Taxi with Steve McKenna and Harvey Simon. Harvey, although a good tuna fisherman, was a greenhorn in the surf but he wanted badly to fish Cuttyhunk. We made the plans for the weekend and decided to invite Steve to join us. It was meant to be just three friends fishing together and having a good time. Ray was due to arrive on Sunday and stay the week, while Rob, Tommy and Lenny were arriving on Wednesday, when I was due to depart.

As usual, we rented Bonnie’s house instead of staying at the Cuttyhunk Fishing Club. It gave us a little more privacy and it made afternoon naps much easier, away from people walking about the hallways, going stir crazy, waiting for the night’s tide. There really wasn’t much sense in going out and fishing in the daytime, as I knew the fish would be uncooperative. The only thing we’d probably accomplish was exhaustion from walking on rocks the size of bowling balls. Besides, Harvey had a bum knee and Steve had problems with the circulation in his leg that was so severe that he had almost had his legs amputated. To say that he was happy to be fishing again would be an understatement. To fish the legendary waters of Cuttyhunk Island was a bonus. When Steve laid his eyes on the island as we entered the harbor, he had a grin that would light up a room. A year ago, he never thought he would walk again and now he was back where some of his most memorable exploits had taken place.

I knew that fishing coves with them would be out of the question. Neither one of them was physically in shape to climb down the steep cliffs and they were even less able to wade over a field of bubble weed to the rocks. This left us with an obvious choice, Southwest Point where we could fish in comfort from the shore. Unfortunately it is also the longest walk of any place on the island and by the time we huffed and puffed over a winding dirt trail, I could see that this wasn’t going to be an all-nighter.

After taking a short rest and sipping some cold water we fanned out at the point. Although all three of us were in wetsuits I knew that the two of them would not get too far into the water. With that in mind I swam to a few rocks that I knew were there and fished from them for a while, trying to gauge where the fish might be stacked up but came up empty. Meanwhile, the two of them were casting in the area known as the “pyramids.” These are three giant triangularly shaped cement blocks that lie at the water’s edge and resemble the Egyptian pyramids.

You know the saying, “It’s somebody else’s night?” This was something Ray would find out about, a few nights later. Well, this was Steve’s night. He threw a Gary2 metal lip and caught fish; he cast a needlefish and connected on the first cast and even though the fish were on the small side, when he finally tossed a rigged eel, his rod doubled over. Harvey and I watched Steve and tried to mimic what he was doing but drew blanks.

Around eleven o’clock or so, we decided to head back to the house. I wasn’t ready to pack it in just yet, so after we reached one of the coves on the south side I waved them goodbye and traversed down the cliff, while they made their way back to the house. I tried fishing a few different spots but a skunk-a-roo for me was in the cards. Not a single fish seemed interested in what I was offering.

My frustration with the lack of fish abated quickly as I reached the house and realized we had an emergency situation on our hands. It was close to 1:00 AM and Steve sat at the table with a very worried expression on his face. His lures were laid out on the table, ready for cleaning, as is his custom after each trip. One giant needlefish was missing from the batch however and its 4/0 treble was firmly imbedded in his leg. Steve gives himself injections of blood thinner every day and the thought of pulling the hook out and have him bleed uncontrollably was a scary proposition. We managed to get in contact with someone who woke up the doctor in town. He was kind enough to drive Steve to the doctor’s house on a golf cart and bring him back after the doctor removed the hook by making a small incision. Naturally, Steve was worried about bleeding and so were we. The closest hospital was at least an hour away by boat and it was the middle of the night. To say that I slept with my eyes open would be an understatement. In fact, when he did not get up until 10 am, I was wondering if I should peek into his room to see if he was still alive. Steve put on a brave face but eventually we all agreed that it would be best for him to leave on the afternoon ferry back to the mainland. At least he could take comfort in the fact that he would be close to a hospital in case he needed assistance when he landed. Harvey and I went back to Southwest Point at dusk but we paid the price for trying to fish during the day. When the heavens opened up and rain started to come down in buckets, we gave up early with only a few fish to show for our efforts. Harvey left on the morning ferry and Ray arrived a few hours later.

Ray Crimmins is one of those surfcasters that you never heard of and he prefers it that way. He probably catches more fish in one season than most us will catch in our lifetime. He eats, sleeps, talks and lives surf fishing, 24/7. His background as a former pin hooker and bayman gives him a leg up on any surfcaster trying to learn this sport from a book or the Internet boards. The man has salt in his veins as they say, and he regularly whips my butt when we fish together. I was looking forward to swimming to distant rocks in the south side coves with him, something I wasn’t too comfortable doing on my own.

We started at one of the coves on the south side of the island and had moderate success. Mike Hogan from Hogy Lures poured us some prototype giant 14 inch double wide Hogy rubber lures. They were massive in size, so large that we named them horsecocks. On the first cast with a white one I had a bump but missed the fish. I redeemed myself on the next cast when I brought a 28 pounder to my rock. We had a pick of fish and once the bite petered out we decided to head over to Southwest Point.

Ray was whipped from the drive to New Bedford from New York. Not only did he make the long drive but he also dropped a friend at 5:00 AM in the morning at JFK airport in Queens, NY before driving to Massachusetts. It had been almost 24 hours since he had slept but he trudged to Southwest Point without a complaint. We were surprised to find a surfcaster perched on the rock we were planning to fish from. When we realized that it was Al Pellini, another surfcaster extraordinaire, we were relieved. Al told us that the fish were moving in and out every half hour or so but they were mainly school size to teen size fish. Even when he tossed a rigged eel, he was only catching smaller fish. Al decided to head for the south side and fish one of the points on the drop while we got on the rocks and started casting.

Almost from the first cast we were into fish. For every ten bumps we landed one fish, an indication that the fish were probably on the small side. Although they would smack a Lordship A40 a half a dozen times during the retrieve, hooking them proved difficult. Ray and I shared the rock and we quickly found out that 10 inch doublewide Hogy’s and Super Strike yellow darters were the ticket for constant hookups. I searched throughout my bag for something smaller in size. I usually do not carry anything under 7 inches here as a matter of personal preference but on this night a Yo-Zuri mag darter had found it’s way in amongst my other Super Strike darters. The only reason I had this plug in my bag was because before we got here, we went to Canapitsit Channel. There was a pile of rocks Ray had his eyes on for the past few years and he was dying to try fishing there. Although he found fish there on the second cast and dropped a few more after that, we decided to head to Southwest Point. For those of you unfamiliar with the island, that would be considered a walk from hell, from the eastern tip of the island to the western tip. Because I knew Canapitsit Channel was considered a small fish spot, I stuck a Yo-Zuri darter in my surf bag.

So here I stood, at the edge on the rock trying to give Ray some room to cast when my Yo-Zuri darter got smacked. I set the hook hard but the fish started to run sideways. I had a feeling that I had snagged it on the head but when it started peeling the drag I started to wonder if this fish was a bit larger than what we’d been catching. After a spirited battle I lipped a fish that just barely bottomed out my 30 pound Boga Grip. We tried to take a few pictures but this proved to be difficult in tight quarters on the same rock. Yes, the camera and flash did go on, but my head was nowhere to be found in all three shots that Ray took. We stayed another hour or so and left the fish biting, to rest our sore shoulders.

We got back to the house, stripped off our wetsuits and took showers while our customary pot of coffee was percolating. Ray was exhausted and so was I, and after draining the coffee pot we hit the sack. When we woke up later in the morning, we headed over to the Fishing Club to say hello to Don from Afterhours Lures and Larry from Big Fish Lures who arrived on the morning ferry. Both of them were here for their annual weeklong stay and both were antsy to get out and make a few casts. They knew from previous experience that there was little to be gained from walking the rocky shoreline during the day, so they tried to pass the time getting their gear ready for sunset. We hung around with them for awhile and when Larry asked us stay for some fresh grilled tuna steaks, we accepted his offer without much protest. Larry grilled the steaks to perfection and I even had a beer with my dinner, something I do maybe twice a year and never while fishing.

We got back to our house around 6 PM and were lying on the couch, trying to pass the time. Ray insisted we wait till darkness fell before we headed out so that we wouldn’t get exhausted too quickly. I wasn’t going to argue with him. In the three days that I’d been here, I only saw one small fish caught in the daytime, so his preference for heading out after sunset was a valid one. We heard a rumbling noise outside our door as a quad pulled up to our porch. Two lanky young guys, dressed in full wetsuits, dismounted from the quad and walked towards our house. They were friends we met a few years ago on these shores, Mike Veraka and Mike Luccini; both are experienced and aggressive surfcasters who swim to the outer rocks, mainly tossing live eels. In fact, I don’t even know if Veraka owned a plug bag. They came on the 5 PM ferry with Captain John Paul and were planning a commando trip, fishing all night and returning on the first ferry at 5:00 AM to the mainland. They had one huge advantage over us, they borrowed John Paul’s quad to get around the island and carry their gear, while we only had our feet and desire to get us from place to place. They were extremely excited, especially Veraka who seems to live on cans of Red Bull and chewing tobacco. His catches on these shores approach legendary status and sometimes it’s hard to believe just how many big fish the man catches.PICTURE 3

They were anxious to get out on their favorite rock as Veraka felt, based on previous seasons’ experience, that fish would be feeding at dusk and not in the wee hours of the morning. We waved them goodbye as they left a trail of dust behind the quad, speeding toward the west end. We, on the other hand, retreated to our couches with little desire to head out this early. Finally around eight o’clock we couldn’t wait any longer and we donned our wetsuits and followed them to the west end. Dousing ourselves liberally with bug spray, we walked over the dirt road that wound over the cliffs that overlooked the south side coves. As we were approaching our destination, we heard a scream but did not know the direction from which it came. We ran through the weeds to the edge of the cove and looked down. The two Mike’s were on a single rock with nothing but water around them. Veraka lifted a striper out of the water that easily pushed forty pounds and screamed “Super Cows,” oblivious to the fact that we were standing on top of the cliff looking down at them. We immediately regretted not getting out earlier and we got back on the path and quickly descended into the cove.

Tommy and I have been crazy busy last few days trying to get all the hoodies to the post office. I think we shipped all of them on Friday. If anyone is not happy with theirs ,please let us know. As you can imagine, we could not inspect every single one in detail, there were so many of them they could not fit in my truck and I drive a Suburban! I know we do this once a year but I am glad it’s done. We have less than a dozen left that we over ordered ,they are in the online store while they last but as I am writing this the orders are coming in…

A special giveaway.

I don’t want you reading too much into this. People on this blog have always been great to me and I want to say thanks today to all of those that subscribed to the new Surfcaster’s Journal. Please enter the giveaway with same email address you registered to the magazine subscription. I am giving away two special plugs , one to each winner from my personal stash. These plugs were never made for retail sale, instead Steve Musso made them for our seminar series a year ago. You can’t buy them but you can win them. It’s my way of saying thanks by dipping into my personal stash. God knows Super Strike and Mr. Musso have always been good to Tommy and I. And yes, I am thrilled that so many of you have enjoyed that 20 page interview in this issue with Don Musso. Eventually I would like to embedded a  1/2 hour video interview with Don on which was article based in future issue. But in March I have a special treat for you…on top of all the other treats 🙂

A 20 minute video interview with a very, very special surfcaster ..sorry, have to keep you in a suspense for a bit:-)

Anyway, two winners, each gets one special Super Strike popper. Don’t enter if you are not subscriber, I won’t be a internet cop and make sure that you are subscriber and remove your entry. I have better things to do. But if you come up a winner and I check against SJ subscriber list and you are not on it, we pick another name out of the hat

No one does it better than Peter Laurelli

If you are a fishing nut, you will love this 20 minute composition of scenes from last season

[vimeo]https://vimeo.com/57290686[/vimeo]

First thing first. The winner of the Super Strike Purple haze darter is lenny gimmelfarb. You have 5 days to email us your address. We will then forward it to Super Strike Guru Steve Musso. Thank you Steve again for making this possible.

Second. Some of you had issues with your Android tablets or anything Android. I feel your pain too because I have a Droid phone and had same issues. It seems like Android OS does not like drop down menus so some of the tablet users like those with Toshiba or Samsung had to go back to “log in” link. That has been fixed. No idea how our web dude did it but you can now click on the “Magazine” link and presto! all the sub links appear! Sweet

Three. I always said that none of this means anything until the great Vito Orlando becomes a subscriber. There are people I like, there are people I respect. And there is Vito.  I can spend a day just writing about everything he is. I hope someone writes a book about it one day. Thank you Mr. Orlando. I am volunteering to cut your bunker all spring.

Four. Hoodies…looks like arrival by this weekend and then we shipped them out. Looking forward to getting you guys your stuff and to be honest, I want one too

Five and last but not the least, for those of you who are not subscribed yet (you are missing all the awesomeness as Tommy would say) here is a quick look at what Steve McKenna column looks like in this issue. Pretty sweet and that is just  part of 164 pages.

In addition, for subscribers and nonsubscribers alike ,here is a little video of new features, explanation of controls and yeah, pure awesomeness.

[youtube]http://youtu.be/-nqrsfHF7zs[/youtube]

someone posted this picture on Facebook  … http://www.facebook.com/savagegear

they have some INSANE artwork posted including this very, very angry striped bass.

I thought you guys would enjoy this…

As promised although a day late, today we will celebrate the launch of the new issue of the Surfcaster’s Journal Magazine with a special giveaway, courtesy of Super Strike Lures.

Steve Musso has gratuitously offered to send a winner this new color drater for 2013, a Purple Haze Darter. We are very pleased that Super Strike Lures now feature VMC hooks. Great job Steve

Good luck to all

Btw

I was talking about history the other day….

Jack Yee

Then                                                            and                                      now

In three years that I spent putting the SJ together I’ve read every word, every single letter, every sentence. Then, when I “graduated” to camera and actually learned a little more other than to push record button, I did most of the interviews on camera. My wife would then spend hours and hours typing this off the video. What can I say, it’s a family affair in my household. Wife does reading, my little girl helps with invoices and my son? He just breaks balls…someone got to do that too. But if works for us.

Anyway, I don’t get into the material often. Other then few tribute pieces about people that we knew that passed away, like Al Bentsen, or the INSANE Rich Trox story last year I really never get touched by a piece. That is why I was surprised when I listened to Donny Musso talk on camera last year about his early days and friendship with Danny Pichney, what part Campo played, and why the darter got thinner and became the shape you see it today in stores.

I was fascinated by three things. First, the man has so many plugs he has never showed to anyone its crazy. Hand carved stuff he keeps to himself and for himself. I find it amusing when some dudes in recent years claimed they invented hand carving lures. Just like that dude who claims he invented swimming with a wetsuit. You will hear it when I start working on the Montauk Time and Tide series for SJ readers that they swam in wetsuits as early as 1960’s in Montauk.

The second thing that kind of touched me was the Danny/Donny dynamic, how they did stuff together, how Don was told not to go to meeting to sell stuff because of his “hot Italian temper”. That was funny. I was surprised that they made plugs together and yet at same time made the things on their own and sold them on their own. The story of Danny importing 60 000 metal lips swimmers from former Yugoslavia , finding out none of them work and still dumping them on the market is crazy. I just can’t help it, I love the historical stuff. That is why I am thrilled that we got a permission from Frank Pintauro’s family to continue his legacy and continue featuring his articles on old lures starting in March issue again.

But what really got me was their Danny/Donny break up and why. I gave Donny multiple opportunities not to answer this question if he was not comfortable. He chose to bare his soul. I was always under the impression that they broke up over the metal lip swimmer but that wasn’t the case. Anyone else fascinated by the twenty page Musso interview? That is if you finished reading it all. I know it took my wife forever to type it.

Stay tuned for a giveaway tomorrow of this super sweet new Super Strike Purple Haze color darter. We’ll do the giveaway for our SJ subscribers only. I want to make sure that those who are subscribers get the first crack on everything, including giveaways

For the reasons unknown to me, some people on this blog are not aware that we launched a  new issue with a totally redesigned website and blog to match it. Not only that, but I only got a single email about how to get into the mag (you need to  “Log In” each time with your user name and password). Which makes me very happy. Or is it that most people just register for giveaways? I am ok with that but I always assumed that anyone of this blog would be first, crazy in love with surfcasting, b) big reader of this magazine and only c) wanted to win some stuff. The winner of two lures from Tactical Anglers is  Chmielewski33@yahoo.com. You have 5 days to get us your shipping address at info@surfcastersjournal.com

For those of you that are just waking up, around 6 PM (I want your life!) ,yes, we did launch the new issue. And if you look at the top left hand corner of this blog you will see giant  SURFCASTER’S JOURNAL button. Click it, it won’t bite. Or you can just click on this link https://surfcastersjournal.com/

And here is the cover (you can also click on cover to go to magazine, don’t we make this easy?).

My props for a great shot goes to dude who came a long way with his camera in a short time. Just like he did with running one of the best reels in the world operations, Ron DiCostanzo, the ZeeBaaS Master. And not only did he snagged two recent SJ covers but you will find his videos on lure making and modification in each issue of the magazine in 2013. I am sure those of you who subscribed have already watch them.

Since I have very little to do with this new design as I posses zero artistic ability and vision, I want to congratulate Tommy on his vision for SJ. He is the one who came up with concept and who worked with a designer to make it look what it is. Since you guys can only see the blog comments, I will share some emails I got.

From our columnist

I have two words:

HOLY !#^* !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What a great job……..

How about our advertisers ?

New Journal Looks AMAZING!!!

The embedded videos is a major step into the future.

Readers ?

Wow, guys!!!! looks great. Thanks for all that you are doing

Couldn’t sleep. Ended up subscribing and reading the whole mag. Definitely best so far!

LOVE THE NEW LAYOUT!! whoever thought up the “info” links that are shown is a genius! With a beautiful magazine like this, it is sooo easy to overlook all the handy links you guys put in. There is some real innovative thinking here

Proud paying subscriber! Best of luck with this killer layout and format.

Cover to cover….an awesome undertaking SJ crew.

Ok, so you are missing out but its ok, we are just getting started. We did not wanted to make big deal about our new website before we made sure everthing worked well…and easy. So click here https://surfcastersjournal.com/ and join them in reading the most visually appealing publication on the net, a publication about your sport.

I also want to thank Mr. Steve Musso from Super Strike Lures not only for being our supporter from a day one but by also always raising to the occasion when we have something special going. In this case, Steve has offered us a new color darter for a giveaway, a Purple Haze, new Super Strike color for 2013. And his dad, Donny Musso has a 20 page spreade in this issue! :-)..Musso’s are cranking on all cylinders

But I think for once I will listen to CT Matt and make only the subscribers eligible for giveaway. I think that is only right. That is coming later in the week.

Stay sane, spring is around the corner and we sincerely hope you like what we have done. And please, any questions about signing in, subscribing, advertising,frozen pizza, editorial or whatever..drop us a line at info@surfcastersjournal.com