White water chronicles continue…


So I got dressed again and walked to water’s edge. In two hours the place has gone under a transformation. Yeah, if you are a casual observer, you might think that the whole reef is still white, the waves are still crashing, nothing changed. But if you are a surfcaster you would notice that the waves got a bit bigger, a bit nastier and the wind is picking up in intensity too.

I scanned the reef for a place that looked promising. I decided that a little hole where fly fisherman was working this morning would be a good place to start. Twenty minutes without a hit told me that I am in the wrong place on the reef. How did I know the fish have not moved off? Well, for one, few guys that were fishing the corner were hooking up on almost every cast.

I decided to work my way across the reef. There were two rocks in the corner I wanted to go . One had two anglers on it and it was about 10 yards to the east of the unoccupied rock. It was in about chest high water but when the swell came it was more like ten feet of water. But I decided to take a shot at it.

Let’s just say that the waves beat the crap out of me, tumbled me twice on my head, my waders were full of water but eventually I decided, fuck it, I am already soaked and pushed forward. When I got on the rock and fired off a cast I realized that I was in trouble as soon as I hooked up. My fish ran like crazy westward with the sweep. Which was fine but what was not fine was that the two fellows fishing ten yards east of me had both of their fish running westward too. Every fish they caught wrapped themselves around my feet to the point I was doing an Irish Jig on the rock. Finally one of them said ” I don’t think this is going to work out”.


I said, no need for another word, you were here first and I am in your way so I will back off to a rock behind and to the side of them. If you think I took a beating getting on the rock, you can only imagine the abuse I took getting off! I spent more time floating on my belly or sitting on my ass then walking. I ripped my waders by banging my knee on the rock, I almost busted my CTS and my zb reel will never be mistaken for being new again. But eventually I got to another rock and recomposed myself. The water was absolutely spectacular. BIG sets of white water would crash twenty yards away and then sweep towards the shore. The fellows on the rock adjacent to one I left must have landed 50 fish in an hour and half I was there. It was literally every single cast.  I did my share of damage with bucktail but what I really wanted was a keeper to bring home. The plan was to catch one, filet it in the lower lot and bring it to Wok and Roll in town to cook it sesame style. Then jump in the truck and make it home before my little angel gets out from the class. …but I was running out of time. The latest I could leave here was about 11 30 taking in account walking back to truck, filleting the fish, driving to town, 20 minutes to cook and 2 hours drive home…mind you this is the fish I have not caught yet…lmao

If you never caught fish in the oxygenated white water, I can’t describe to you how do they fight other than to tell you is that you are fighting a fish that you would think its a 30 until you landed the damn thing and it’s an 8 pound bass.

The next cast I hooked the fish that was running like a freight train. But they all ran like that. The difference was, when I tried to turn this one away from the boulder it proved to be much harder. Maybe I am tired I told myself. But once I got the fish on the rock I realized that this might be the best fish of the morning. But first I have to unhook it. This fish took a bucktail past the gills, all the way into a throat. At 15 pounds , the mouth is not big enough for me to stick my whole arm in there and I am getting pounded on the rock. It’s one thing when you are casting and paying attention to waves, different when you are trying to unhook the fish. I finally got my dehooker down in the throat around the hook shank. Usually you press down and hook pops but this hook is imbedded in real soft meat. I yanked on the hook upwards and all the guts started to come up. I said “this is it, you are coming home with me.” I left the fish hooked, grabbed it by its gills and jumped off the rock.

Once I got on shore I managed to get my hands into gills and pull out the hook. I filleted the fish at the lot, changed all my clothes as they were soaked and speed to Wok and Roll in town.

Twenty minutes later I was on the way to make a surprise visit to my wife and kids who were not expecting me. They all thought that the sesame striper was the best fish they ever ate. I was so hungry I ate waaaaay to much that night…something that I will pay the price for the next day driving back out east

stay tuned

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8 comments on “White water chronicles continue…

  1. wolf 107

    Z just love your adventures just don’t get killed living them.sounds like the seas were angry.you are braver than me.


  2. Rich S.

    Yeah, that unhooking the fish while getting pounded is what always kills me!
    It was nice fishing next to you and talking last week Zeno!

  3. Allen W

    Great story Zeno and what a finish! Still waiting to catch my keeper this year and your stories/reporting always get me pumped!
    Thanks again!

  4. Chris I

    Z you got a picture of me in the second photo..it was nice talking to you back on the beach…that was some big surf..but always a great Montauk experience!


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