8:30 pm: Gone was the still, 60 degree night we had enjoyed when Jack took me to the inlet just two days ago. Air temps now hovered just above 40, and a stiff North wind added a bit of extra flavor to the chill. We slosh through the marsh at high tide, kicking through a detritus of empty beer cans and the occasional dead bunker. “Welcome back to New Jersey” I think to myself as a suspicious clear rubber tube floats dangerously close to my leg. In college, Jack always thought it was a sin that I grew up near some of the best spring and fall striped bass fishing in the world and never once had gone out for them. Now that I was back from the West, it was his mission to get me on a bite.
9:00 pm: We’ve made our first stand on a relatively stable section of the mud flat. It’s just a couple of days after the full moon, and the water is high and off color. To my right, Jack yells out over the wind, something about waiting for the falling tide. I scream back “WHAT?” and get no reply.
9:30 pm: The marsh at high tide is slightly less sketchy this time, since on the way back out we can see the clearings in the grass where we fell on the first go. Jack’s made the call to sit and wait for a while, and head back out when we see more action or a change in the tide, whatever comes first. We trek back to the beach, take a seat against some driftwood, and watch the spin anglers in front of us work the channel. I throw on my last layer and stare into the darkness. Jack’s face is illuminated by the glow of his phone as he texts his contacts to the North and South, getting word on bites along the coast. He confirms we should wait here, insisting that he’s got a good feeling about when the tide falls in another hour. My jetlagged, multiple time zone adjusted brain agrees, half thinking about fish and half wondering how my bed at home would feel right now.
11:00 pm: Jack gestures towards the water’s edge. There’s a couple spin anglers hooked up now, and it seems they’re onto bigger fish than the occasional schoolies they’d been picking off for the last hour. We see one fisherman bring a nice keeper to hand. Down the beach, a new line of headlamps is coming towards us- those anglers didn’t even bother showing up until now, but why? “I think it’s time”, Jack declares as he stands up. We grab our gear, shake off the sand, and head into the marsh.
11:15 pm: Back in position, we start casting. I hadn’t noticed how much the water had dropped while we were waiting, and the channel is much more defined. When I swing my fly in the current, it now heads in the direction of the bay, out to sea. The water has cleared up too, and I can see bait moving along the bank. With the wind at my back I launch my huge deceiver pattern upcurrent, and give it a few strips to tighten out the line. As it comes into the swing I feel a thump and I respond with a hard strip. A weight thrashes on the other end and my line hisses back towards the creek before it goes limp.
11:45 pm: I’ve missed a ton of fish now. They seem willing enough, but I can’t keep them pinned. I chock it down to my inexperience in saltwater and just hope the bites keep coming so I have more chances to convert something. To my surprise I find Jack is in the same boat, but he’s got theories. “They’re either all really small”, he says looking at our 8 inch streamers tied on 4/0 hooks, “or they’re not fully committing yet”. “Once the tide drops more the creek will warm up the harbor and the fish will eat harder. I’ve talked to some of the spin guys and they’re dropping a ton of fish as well”. I look down along the shoreline, and notice exposed sections of muck that weren’t there minutes ago.
12:15 am: This one’s not going anywhere. I set hard a few more times like Jack instructed, just to be sure. He got one just a few minutes ago, and it looks like my fish is a similar size. I position myself on the bank to beach the fish, and I can see that this time the it has fully committed to eating the fly. Jack comes in to take some pictures of my first fish of the night. Once it’s released, he’s got one comment- “Get back out there”.
12:30 am: We’re running through fish now. Eats are coming on almost every cast, and we can hear the fish thrashing on the surface in the dark as our lines come tight. I can barely see Jack down the shore, but the sound of his strip sets crack through the wind every few minutes. Suddenly, as Jack is landing a fish a few feet away, I set into a bigger one. My eight weight keels over, and I jump off the bank and into the water to get a better angle. Jack is laughing maniacally a few feet away as he deals with a fish of his own. I make a mental note to remember this moment as a highlight of the night, and continue working the fish towards the beach. Jack’s there when the fish gets close and he corrals it to the shore. I briefly lift up my new personal best striper, and then send it on its way.
1:30 am: One of Jack’s fish takes him to his backing. I stand a few feet back and watch him fight it for a minute, shining my headlamp where his leader hits the water and looking for a glimpse of the fish to gauge its size. Finally, he swings it up- another big one. It’s my turn to guide the fish towards our landing area, and soon Jack has it in his hands.
2:00 am: The bite has slowed. We spread out before we leave, taking some casts at different sections of the channel on the way out. At the car, I take one more look at the mangled streamer I borrowed before handing it back to Jack.
One of the most exciting aspects of this sport is learning a new fishery. Whether it’s a different fishing style or water type, or a completely new species altogether, it gives us the chance to grow our skillset and understanding of how we use a fly rod. It’s also rare that something I take away from a new fishery can’t be used anywhere else, so in most cases these experiences will further round you out as an angler.
It’s also a privilege to learn these new worlds from someone who really knows what they’re doing. Watching how their mind works, the conditions they cue in on, the forward thinking approach they take throughout a day (or night) on the water, and then watching it all come together will give you seasons worths’ of information if you pay attention. Bonus points if the person you’re learning from is one of your best friends, so you can ask them super dumb questions and not feel judged for it (or get judged for it and not care).
Tonight was one of those nights. I realize now that no matter what hour I was in, Jack was multiple ahead the whole time.