For three days, Danthony Winslow and Lathan Price had been, as they call it, “tuna wishing.” They’d been drifting live bait for bluefin tuna off the coast of North Carolina, facing sub-freezing cold in an open 23-foot skiff in the Atlantic, which at least had been mercifully calm most of the time.

“We’d been out there three days and didn’t get a sniff,” said Winslow, a 22-year-old commercial fisherman from Morehead City, North Carolina. “And we’d frozen our butts off.” They needed to break the spell, so on the fourth day they did something a little different. “We brought along a Mr. Buddy propane heater,” Winslow said with a laugh. “In an open boat, it wasn’t much.”

Price, a 21-year-old whose primary gig is as a charter captain, agreed. “At least it knocked the chill off,” he said. The pair, friends since middle school, were huddled around the heater when something else happened that made them forget about the cold. They finally got a bite.

Bluefin Tuna from a Skiff

More than five hours later, the men finally had the fish aboard — and it was nearly half as long as the boat. The 115-inch bluefin would core out at 700 pounds — not a record, but an amazing catch from a small boat.

Price and Winslow are both from fishing families. Price is a captain with Legacy Fishing Charters out of Morehead City. His uncle Eric Price runs the Offshore Outlaw, which has been featured on “Wicked Tuna.” Most of Winslow’s commercial fishing centers on multi-day bottom-fishing trips.

When tuna season opened on Dec. 1, that became their focus. They really hoped they could get it done on Price’s 23-foot Riddick Bayrunner flat-bottom skiff.

“The tuna come in really shallow here,” Winslow said. “We were fishing what we call the ‘Shoals’ off Cape Lookout in about 50 to 60 feet of water. We could see the Lookout lighthouse where we were.”

They were live-lining 3- to 5-pound live bluefish — which they’d caught the night before — on 14/O Owner live bait hooks. “We were out there with about 10 other boats,” Price said.

Fishing had turned on and several boats had hooked up, including Price’s uncle, Eric. “We saw some birds and started making our way over toward them,” Winslow said. Then, boom! The tuna took off on its expected long and fast run.

Fighting a Giant Bluefin from a Small Boat

“They just smoke the reel,” said Price, who was using a Penn International 80-wide spooled with a combination of 200-pound braid, a top shot of 200-pound mono, and a 200-pound fluorocarbon leader. “This one was a solid run of 400 to 500 yards.”

After getting the boat turned and closing some distance, it was time to go to work. “It took us probably an hour just to get him close,” Price said. The pair traded turns on the rod, which was secured in a bow-mounted swivel rod holder. After a few hours the tuna finally showed itself.

“It came up and was just paddling on the surface,” Price said. “Then I knew what we were into.”  

Eventually they got the fish to the boat, but it wasn’t over. “You still lose a lot of them when they get close,” Price said. “It gets hectic.”

The men were able to secure the tuna with a harpoon and tail rope. The next challenge? Getting the fish into the boat, which GPS showed had traveled more than 12 miles during the fight.

Fortunately, Eric Price was on site in his boat and more than happy to help his nephew. After marrying up to the younger Price’s skiff, Eric Price and his two crew came aboard. Together the five men were able to get the tuna aboard the skiff. At the dock, the tuna measured 115 inches, fork-length and weighed exactly 700 pounds after being cored (head and entrails removed).

A Bluefin Tuna Payday

Lathan Price’s previous biggest tuna was a 658-pounder caught while fishing with his uncle. Winslow said he doesn’t know a bigger bluefin in his family’s long fishing history.

At the dock the pair made a deal with a broker. It will be a couple of weeks before they find out how much the tuna will bring at market. It could be $10 or more a pound.

As they wait for their payday, Price and Winslow haven’t been loafing. Every day that weather allows, they are out looking for another big tuna. They haven’t had another bite in the days after their catch, but it doesn’t sting quite so much. “It will be a not-so-cold winter now,” Price said with a laugh.

The post Monster Bluefin Tuna from a Skiff appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

It was a slow summer at Hudson Canyon off New York, but we were headed out anyway, because you can’t catch tuna when you’re dry on the dock. We weren’t halfway out when we saw life — a half-dozen whales rolling, and tails rising among what must have been 100 or more tightly packed bottlenose dolphin. Dozens of shearwaters flocked around the ­commotion. Extending outward for 100 square yards, storm petrels dabbed the blue 75-degree surface waters. The sonar screen read 180 feet.

One cast into the mayhem created instant action. As soon as the bail closed, a fish grabbed the lure, and the rod doubled over at an impossible angle. Line easily peeled off the reel against a good 30 pounds of drag. The mate looked over at me with a big smile on his face and said, “Well, I guess we’re not going to the canyon.”

Running way offshore for big pelagics is ingrained. Want to catch tuna? Hit the “deep,” the “edge,” the canyons. And whether you see life or empty ocean, deploy a spread and troll blindly for hours. But in recent years, most of the good fishing has occurred well inshore of the canyons, and trolling isn’t required.

Tuna Feed on Sand Eels

We owe this success to one thing, and one thing alone: sand lances, Ammodytes americanus (known locally as sand eels) — long, slender, 6- to 8-inch ­low-trophic-level fish with a pointy snout.

In past years, when the sand eels have shown up — usually by mid-June — they’ve appeared in extraordinary numbers. Anglers know about it pretty quickly because often the entire list of oceanic predators also find them. Not just those with fins, but those with wings as well. Everything appears to eat sand eels.

To be clear, this bait does not reside in deep water. As the name suggests, sand eels prefer relatively sandy habitat in 40 fathoms or shallower. They also burrow at night into the soft substrate and spend their days feeding on zooplankton. They’re not equipped to frequent deep, high-­pressure water, thus don’t expect to see big ­concentrations at the canyons.

Why do they gather, and why recently have they flooded the 20- to 40-fathom area from Maryland to New York from mid-June to mid-September? Those are more-difficult questions to answer, but it seems likely that the mass migration involves a food source. Adult and larval sand lances feed primarily on copepods (immature crustaceans) and other tiny animals, so they might be focused on a new zooplankton bloom.

Regardless of the reason, the ­sand eels now congregate so thickly that once you’re into them, you often can’t read bottom on your sounder. And it’s clear that when they’re abundant, they attract a host of predators — most important of which are bluefin and yellowfin tuna — that gorge on the smallish baits with reckless abandon.

Where to Find Sand Eels and Tuna

“It’s all about finding life when you make these midshore tuna runs,” says New Jersey charter captain Gene Quigley (shorecatch.com). “I’d say we look for whales more than anything, but there are certainly other indicators.”

Not only do whales and tuna feed on this same prey, but both bluefin and yellowfin tuna often swim directly beneath the whales, possibly slurping up stunned sand eels after a whale has lunge-fed.

“We look for [bottlenose] dolphin too,” Quigley continues. “Not just the rolling ones, but the ones that are clearly smashing sand eels.”

Finding cow-nosed rays in 150 to 200 feet of water in July or August might be one of the best tuna signs. “Man, you run across a school of cow-nosed rays, and you’re a fool not to stop on it,” says New York captain Cory Crochetiere. “Drop a jig under them, and it’s often an immediate hookup.”

On a clear, calm day, you can see rays pushing water when they’re on the surface. But often they swim 10 feet or more down. When they pass under your boat, they’re easy to see. For better or worse, rays also hit a jig or soft plastic.

Rays often appear accompanied by storm petrels, or what we call “tuna chicks”—small unassuming birds that seem to dance on the water. Just the presence of these birds, with or without the rays, can indicate sand eels, and subsequently tuna.

The petrels clearly don’t feed on sand eels. More likely they’re eating the same planktonic animals as the sand eels. A mother lode of storm petrels signals a mandatory stop, but even if you see just a half-dozen, give it a try. “We had our largest bluefin one year, casting a stickbait at a flock of what was maybe six or seven tuna chicks,” Crochetiere says. “A 250-pound-class bluefin came out of nowhere and crushed the plug.”

Shearwater birds also can suggest the presence of sand eels. If you see shearwaters circling high above the water, make a stop. They might be seeing something that you can’t, such as big pods of sand eels or even cruising tuna.

While you’ll likely see such life fairly close to shore, inside 20 fathoms, you probably won’t see tuna, at least during the June-to-September period. We really don’t stop on anything inside 20 fathoms, unless we see obvious signs of tuna feeding. Generally, we find the sweet spot in the 30-fathom range.

However, even in that depth range, if the water looks green or dirty, most of the time we just move. You occasionally might find bluefin in less-than-blue water, but rarely yellowfin. Look for sand eels in cobalt-blue offshore water. That doesn’t guarantee tuna, but work the area. Nearby tuna eventually will find that bait.

Tough Tuna Fishing Gear

We fish these sand eel aggregations with soft-plastic and hard baits, using stout spinning tackle. Our favorite reels include Van Staals , Shimanos, and Daiwas. For a more affordable alternative, try the newest Penn offshore spinners. Reels should be spooled with at least 80-pound braid and 6 to 10 feet of 80- to 125-pound fluorocarbon leader.

Rods must be specific to the tuna-popping-and-jigging game as well. Popping rods measure 7 feet, 6 inches to 8 feet, 4 inches long (casting distance is important), and they should be strong in the butt section for extended fights and real lifting power.

Rods to fish soft-plastic eels can be shorter, at 6 to 7 feet, but they should demonstrate the same parabolic composition. Madd Mantis makes an affordable 7-foot all-around rod.

Summer Bluefin Tuna Fishing

Sand eels usually start to show in the 30-fathom range by mid-June. “It’s generally a water-temperature thing,” says noted New York offshore angler Ray Phelan. “Right around 65 degrees, we start to see them, and they get more abundant as things warm.”

Late spring also marks the appearance of larger (for spin-fishermen) bluefin in the 200-plus-pound category. Moving into July, the bluefin become more manageable in size—in the 80-pound range.

“Yeah, we get a few on poppers and stickbaits,” Crochetiere says, “but during the past couple of years, the shearwaters were so bad that you’d waste valuable time untangling birds. Most of the fish we catch [when that happens] are on RonZ soft-plastic baits.”

The soft-plastic tail wiggles so easily that you won’t have to impart much action to make it resemble a sand eel. Even when working this bait very slowly, it still features a ton of movement. “Tuna will often grab it on the drop,” Crochetiere says. “And we’ve certainly caught fish just dead-sticking them,” or leaving the rod in the holder.

We’ve learned over the years that bluefin like a slow bait presentation. Even with plugs, a long, slow retrieve draws way more strikes than a fast one. Once you get the RonZ below the surface, avoiding a shearwater attack, it works really well. Yes, metal jigs can and do work, but not as well as these 10-inch soft plastics.

When the birds abate, Crochetiere mixes in some poppers and stickbaits such as the Nomad Riptide. This 200 mm (8-inch) translucent floating stickbait features a single strip of reflective tape on its sides, and closely mimics a sand eel. Work this bait in a slow, sweeping fashion. Other effective plugs include the Siren Deep Seductress, Shimano Orca and Daiwa Slider.

“Poppers are pretty awesome too, if for no other reason than the often-violent blowups,” Crochetiere says. His popper choice: the Madd Mantis Atasi. “Not so easy to find anymore, but there’s something about this plug that draws crazy strikes.”

Late-Summer Yellowfin Tuna Fishing

By late July or early August, you might catch a yellowfin while targeting bluefin in that same, general 30-fathom range. And then, in what seems like the span of a few hours, the bluefin can disappear, presumably shooting up to New England and farther north.

“I’m not sure if it’s a ­temperature change, or it’s just that so many yellowfin show up that they push the bluefin out,” Quigley says, noting that the water warms to 74 or 75 degrees in midsummer.

The bait doesn’t change, however; the sand eels continue to swarm. Fishing yellowfin on sand eel aggregations remains similar to targeting bluefin, with a few nuances. Yellowfin seem to swim with the dolphins to a greater extent than the bluefin. A popper placed in front of a school of feeding dolphins often results in an explosive strike from an 80-pound tuna. Cow-nosed rays also dependably indicate nearby yellowfin; the fish often swim directly underneath the rays.

Unique to yellowfin, however, are the skipjack schools. “We have a lot of success throwing big poppers in those skipjack schools,” Quigley says. “The big yellowfin come up from underneath all those skippies and hammer them.”

I don’t think the yellowfin eat the skipjack. Both species seem to feed on the sand eels. Almost every time we clean a yellowfin, we find a stomach packed full of eels, but no skipjack.

Sand eel fishing for tuna winds down in September mainly because the weather worsens and the water cools. Yellowfin, in particular, begin to migrate to deeper water. The eels do remain, and anglers can fish another brief run of bluefin in December as the tuna head back south. During that time, fishing occurs in much shallower water closer to shore.

For summer tuna, remember that farther might not always be better. Think twice about running long, or at least keep your eyes open on the way to the deep. Find the life, and you might score big without burning all that fuel.

The post Catch Tuna Near Sand Eels appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

After hours perched on the bow of my 20-foot center-console under a scorching sun, my brain had baked like a potpie. My vision blurred and my skin was burnt to a crisp.

As we slowly motored around the ocean, the calm, green water and the clear, blue sky melted into one stifling-hot expanse of emptiness. So when I spotted a long, brown fish swimming just under the surface, I shook my head and blinked my eyes. A second look confirmed the sighting.

“COBIA! COBIA! COBIA!” I yelled to my brother, Roger, who was at the helm.

He whispered: “Where? Where? Where?” as if his voice would spook the fish we had been searching for all day.

I pointed at the brown bomber and hollered again: “COBIA! COBIA! COBIA!”

Spring and Summer Cobia in North Carolina

The mid-Atlantic cobia fishing craze started a couple decades ago off North Carolina’s Outer Banks; local captain Aaron Kelly of Rock Solid Fishing ­was one of the first skippers to make sight-casting his business. On a May morning, I joined Kelly for a day on the water and a lesson on sight-casting. We met at Oregon Inlet Fishing Center; Kelly was carrying a handful of heavy spinning rods and a bucketful of slithering live eels. A few minutes later, his crew of three sharpshooters arrived. We boarded Kelly’s 27-foot center-console and left the marina under bright skies and light winds.

Once out in the open Atlantic, Kelly climbed his three-story tower and strapped into the crow’s nest. Without electronics in the tower, Kelly armed himself with a laser-guided temperature gun in one hand and a big spinning rod in the other. He instructed one of the crew to point the boat south and give it gas.

As we passed Pea Island and Rodanthe Village, Kelly called off water-temperature readings: 65, 66, 67 degrees. When the water hit 68, we slowed and started looking for signs of fish. Kelly says cobia prefer water between 68 and 73.5 degrees. He looks for fish from the mouth of Oregon Inlet to Diamond Shoals and from the surf line out to Whimble Shoals. Wrecks, reefs, tide lines, and even big rays and turtles can all host cobia, but most times the fish cruise out in the open.

We weaved our way south within a few miles of the beach, all eyes scanning the surface, while Kelly continued to test the water temperature. By the time we had worked our way to the iconic candy-striped Hatteras Lighthouse, the ocean was crystal clear and 72 degrees.

“There’s one,” Kelly yelled from his crow’s nest. A few seconds passed before my eyes found the big brown fish, which was 50 yards off and steadily moving toward the boat. The driver took the single diesel out of gear. The angler on the bow made a perfect cast that landed his bucktail right in front of the fish.

But the cobia spooked and dashed my hopes, until Kelly yelled, “There he is!” and pointed to the fish, which was now hiding on the bottom about 20 feet below. “Drop your bucktail and jig it,” Kelly commanded. The guy with the rod opened the bail and let the bucktail fall. We watched the bright-orange lure descend until it was lying next to what looked like a heavy log. The log shot forward and the angler’s line came tight. “That’s how it’s done!” Kelly yelled.

After we landed the fish, Kelly described to me exactly how it is done.

Cobia Sight Fishing Tactics

“Boat speed is critical,” he started, explaining that every boat’s engine makes different sounds and sends out different vibrations at different speeds. Each captain must experiment to find what works with his boat. “Get the pitch of the motor right, and they will come to you.”

If the fish isn’t on a collision course, Kelly turns to ­intercept it at an angle. “The worst thing is to T-bone one,” he said. “Don’t take the engine out of gear or change speed.”

Kelly keeps one angler ready with a live eel and another with a bucktail. When the boat passes within 25 yards of the fish, he instructs his first angler to cast. “I start with the eel, then follow up with a bucktail,” he said. If a cobia doesn’t react to those first casts, Kelly shows the fish a different bait. “You can throw a spot at them,” he said, “or a croaker, bluefish, mullet – I’ve even caught cobia on an oyster toad.”

After a cobia takes the bait. Kelly immediately motors away from the fish. “You’ve got to set the hook and keep tension on the fish,” he explained. “A lot of guys try to fight fish from a dead boat.”

If a cobia spooks, Kelly keeps his eyes open. “A lot of times the fish will pop up again heading in the same direction. Keep an eye out the back of the boat too. A lot of times they’ll sneak up behind you.”

For Kelly, perfect cobia conditions include the ­presence of bait, decent water clarity and light current. “Find a temperature break or an area of dead current around Cape Point [off Cape Hatteras],” he said, “and you’ll find fish.” The perfect cobia day would also feature a 10 to 15 mph southwest wind. “That puts the wind and current in the same direction, which pushes fish to the surface.”

Even on a less-than-perfect day, Kelly can still catch cobia. “We’ve had days when we caught 30 fish in the wind and rain,” he said. When the sky is overcast, he’ll throw out a block of menhaden chum and wait for the fish to come to him.

Kelly chases cobia from early May through the middle of September, but by June, most of the fish have moved to Chesapeake Bay. That’s where I picked up the chase in early June with Capt. Ben Shepard of Above Average Sportfishing, one of the first skippers to bring sight-casting to Virginia.

Traditionally, the state’s anglers anchored to chum for cobia, which attracts everything from car-hood rays to scrappy sharks. Years ago, Shepard learned the sight-fishing technique in Florida and unleashed it at home.

Virginia Cobia on Bucktails

“We’ll meet at 10 o’clock,” Shepard told me over the phone. “What time?” I asked incredulously. “Ten,” he repeated, “no hurry.” I agreed but still arrived early to Bubba’s Marina in Virginia Beach. Shepard and his buddy Jason Legg already had Shepard’s bay boat in the water and ready to go. By the time we left Lynnhaven Inlet, the sun was high and the air still and hot: perfect conditions for spotting cobia.

We didn’t run far. Shepard headed toward Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel, the 17-mile-long span that crosses the mouth of bay, and continued up Thimble Shoal toward Norfolk. About a mile north of the bridge, we stopped in the middle of nowhere and started looking for brown suits. We didn’t look long.

“Cobia,” Shepard announced. I searched the water with my inferior eyes and finally saw the fish cruising 50 yards off the bow.

Anxious, I prepared to throw a live eel with a spinning rod. Shepard stopped me. “That’s just a little fish,” he said. “Use this.” He handed me a lighter rod with a 1-ounce yellow bucktail jig.

The rod’s whippy tip allowed me to land the light lure close enough to get the small cobia’s attention. I retrieved the small jig across the surface, and the cobia went absolutely nuts – turning, swiping, slashing and annihilating the little lure.

After we landed and released the 30-pound fish, Shepard explained that he’d caught cobia of all sizes on the small, yellow jig. “I don’t know what they think it is,” he admitted, “but cobia can’t stand that thing.”

For bigger fish, he uses a 2- to 3-ounce bucktail. “You want a lot of hair and a big rubber tail so the bucktail sinks slower,” he said.

Like Kelly, Shepard first throws the eel. “A perfect cast lands five feet from the fish’s head,” Shepard says. When the cobia bites, he instructs his angler to open the bail and let the cobia take the bait for a couple of seconds. Then close the bail and let the line come tight.

“When you throw the bucktail, jig it fast and hard,” he says. Shepard has noticed that each cobia reacts differently to the jig. “If they’re not super interested, slow it down,” he suggests, “do something different.”

Finding Cobia on Chesapeake Bay

With Shepard’s instructions running around in my head, we continued north up Thimble Channel. Shepard told me the fish first show in late May along Thimble Shoal or Baltimore Channel. “From year to year, they seem to prefer one over the other,” he pointed out.

Water temperature plays a key role in finding cobia, he said. A pocket of water that’s cooler or warmer than the surrounding bay can hold fish. Look for any inconsistencies such as tide lines, floating debris or color changes. Shepard also prefers at least a little current.

By June, the fish spread out in the open bay. “We just cruise around looking for fins,” he said, which is exactly what we did that early June day.

After we tooled up Thimble Shoal Channel, Shepard changed course and headed northeast across Horseshoe Shoal. Almost as soon as we hit the edge of Baltimore Channel, we saw another fish. Shepard pointed toward a raft of small, purple jellyfish that was formed by the edge of a tide line. This cobia was bigger.

Jason Legg took the cast, landing the eel a few feet from the fish’s head. The squirming worm sank slowly. As expected, the big cobia didn’t let the eel get far. Legg came tight on the line and the fight erupted.

The fish ran and bulldogged then jumped twice, ­struggling to get its fat, brown body out of the water. Once the fish had spent its considerable energy, Shepard gaffed the 60-pounder and dispatched it with an aluminum billy club to keep the cobia from wreaking havoc on deck.

World-Class Cobia Fishing

With the fish photographed and stored in the fish box, we climbed back into the bay boat’s tower, and Shepard continued to tell me about cobia fishing in the bay. “Later in the summer, cobia home in on any structure in the lower bay, from bridge pilings, rocks, buoys, to tide lines and temperature breaks,” he said.

Toward the end of September, cobia leave the bay, and anglers find some amazing action along Virginia Beach’s oceanfront on buoys and tide lines. Shepard said he sees schools of 10 to 50 fish; once he saw a pod with at least 300 cobia. Shepard and Kelly have recorded outstanding catches from the Outer Banks to Virginia. Each averages 200 to 250 cobia in a season.

Kelly’s best-ever day happened in early spring. “We got to the Hook (inside Cape Point) at 7 a.m., and we were in the meat,” he told me, excitement from the day’s adventure still vibrating in his voice. “I looked to my left and saw 20, then to the right and saw another 15. There were singles, doubles, triples; they were all balled up. It was game on. We started whacking them.”

So many fish and only two anglers. Faced with the chance to have an epic day, Kelly knew he needed help. He called one of his most obsessed clients, and the guy drove down to the beach and swam out to Kelly’s boat. The three anglers worked like machines casting, hooking, fighting, unhooking and casting again until they had caught and released 72 cobia. “I’d never seen anything close to that ever,” he reflected.
 
With cobia fishing improving each year, anglers visiting the Outer Banks and Chesapeake Bay have a shot of seeing something truly special. “Drive around looking for cobia,” Shepard said, “and you won’t believe your eyes.”

Cobia Tackle Requirements

Sight-casting for cobia might be the simplest fishing experience ever conceived. “Just drive around all day and look for fish,” Capt. Shepard said. Rigging for these fish is easy too.

Two outfits cover all your cobia needs: a heavy-action spinning rod with a stiff tip for casting a bucktail, and a lighter stick with a slower bend to toss an eel. Both rods should measure at least 7 feet; reels should hold enough 50-pound braid and generate enough drag to tire a 100-pound cobia.

To rig the bucktail rod, use a Bimini/Albright connection to double the main line, and attach 3 feet of 60-pound fluorocarbon and a brightly colored 2- to 3-ounce bucktail. To the jig hook, add a rubber twister tail in pink, orange, chartreuse or white; the tail prevents the jig from falling too fast. For the lighter rod, use the same length of 40-pound fluoro and an 8/0 Gamakatsu Octopus Circle hook.

When Shepard encounters small cobia, he chooses a medium-action spinner that’s limber enough to throw a 1/8-ounce bucktail.

Cloudy skies don’t keep cobia enthusiasts off the water: When the sun hides, Shepard and Kelly break out a block of menhaden chum and drift their live eels through known cobia hangouts.

The post Fishing the Mid-Atlantic Cobia Run appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Red drum is a highly sought-after species up and down the Mid-Atlantic seaboard. Many anglers have formed a special bond with redfish in large part because of their willingness to take a baited hook, artificial lure, or fly. Throughout their range, the strong fight of a redfish keeps anglers’ hearts pumping and adrenaline flowing.

Luckily, anglers in North Carolina have access to some of the largest red drum in the world. In August and September, mature “old drum” come inshore to spawn at the mouth of the Pamlico and Neuse rivers before moving off Outer Banks beaches where they can be targeted in October and November. People from all over the country travel to isolated destinations like Cedar Island, Swan Quarter, Ocracoke and Cape Lookout to try to catch and release a “citation” fish. North Carolina’s Saltwater Fishing Tournament, also known as the Citation Program, recognizes exceptional catches of North Carolina’s most popular sport fish. A citation red drum must measure at least 40 inches. The all-tackle world record, a 94-pound, 2-ounce giant, was landed in Cape Hatteras back in 1984.

Historically most old drum were caught by bait fishermen using large pieces of fresh cut mullet or menhaden late in the evening or at night. Anglers can also have success catching huge redfish during the day using a variety of different artificial lures. As the fishery has evolved, it has led to increased fishing pressure and sometimes very finicky fish. Capt. Mitchel Blake, of FishIBX Charters, grew up fishing the area over the past several decades and has seen the changes.

Where to Find Reds

Pamlico Sound is a large body of water with lots of depth transitions and different bottom compositions. There are no real hot spots — what was good yesterday may well be dead water today. Capt. Blake reminds anglers that the fish are always on the move, and they are significantly impacted by boat traffic. Some studies have shown that drum travel more than 25 miles a day, advancing along submerged edges and ledges in different depth ranges searching for bait and preparing to spawn.  

Successful anglers get on the water early to locate them when they are feeding in 2 to 4 feet of water. Sometimes it is obvious, as reds move a lot of water when they are feeding aggressively. Search for pushes and wakes as you move into skinny water; busting mullet and shrimp popping in the shallows are also good indicators of feeding drum in the area. As the day moves on, especially in areas where there is a lot of boat activity, reds tend to move into deeper water. But they can still be found feeding on large schools of menhaden at the surface. It’s the subtle things Capt. Blake sees that keep him on the fish as he slowly dissects the river each day, not the run-and-gun style so prevalent in the age of social media and Internet reports. 

As you approach an area that seems to have the right conditions, stealth is critical to success. Blake’s biggest piece of advice is to slow down and pay attention to the surroundings. Shut off the big motor early, before you push into the zone, and use the trolling motor as sparingly as possible to hold your position. If possible, use the wind to push you within casting range. Don’t just zoom from spot to spot, as you might be running over the fish while you stare at your phone or navigation screen. Things tend to materialize fast, so you want to be ready with several rods rigged with a couple of different offerings.  

Reviving Red Drum After the Fight

For artificials lures, there are several options that work well. I prefer to fish topwater lures, as I can make repetitive long casts with a big surface popper. Walk-the-dog-style lures work well, too. Both choices make great search baits, as they are designed to imitate the sounds of struggling baitfish. When a fish hears the commotion on the surface, they tend to rise and look for an easy meal. Having a big 50-pound redfish explode on a surface lure is about as exciting as it gets. Large popping-cork rigs work well, too, especially if fish seem skittish or are hesitant to eat a surface plug.

We need to do everything we can to care for these fish, as they are the breeding stock for the entire population. Be mindful and use appropriate tackle to land fish quickly, so they do not exhaust themselves during the fight. Tagging data is clear; red drum survive well when released if they are handled properly. Many fish I catch are released without bringing them into the boat, but I admit I love to hold them in my arms for a photo. When landing a fish, never reach into or attempt to support the fish by the gill plate or mouth. Hold them horizontally and support the weight of the fish evenly as you cradle it like a baby in your arms. Have your camera ready beforehand. Enjoy the moment you have with the fish, but return it to the water as quickly as possible.

Spend time reviving the fish after a hard-fought battle. That means forcing water over its gills by inching the boat forward. If fishing in moving water, the water does the work for you, so hold that redfish face-first into the current. Moving a redfish forward and backward in the water doesn’t help much — no matter what the TV shows say. Watching a red drum regain its strength and kick away is rewarding, almost as much as tricking them into biting your topwater.

The post Keys to Catching Carolina’s Red Drum appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Don’t miss the first moments of light on a slick-calm morning when exploring North Carolina’s Crystal Coast. Core Sound and Cape Lookout National Seashore provide an unforgettable setting. 

As I pole my skiff across a submerged shoal covered in eel grass, I’m hopeful to find a school of red drum. Perhaps some spotted seatrout are working the area, or maybe a striped bass has ventured into the zone. These waters see an abundance of fish, in large part due to the influence of both the northbound Gulf Stream and the southbound Labrador Current. Major ocean currents combine in this spot daily with the changing of the tides.

Read Next: North Carolina’s Crystal Coast is a Gem

Sportfish await the incoming tide to provide them with enough water to return to their desired locations. Look to the grass beds during the peak of each tide cycle, pinpointing the potholes and sloughs. Occasionally, anglers will see redfish with their backs out of the water and tails waving feverously. Seatrout tend to be more elusive, utilizing their disruptive spot pattern to blend in. For a few hours on each side of the low, fish concentrate together on the outer edges. I make a long cast beyond a familiar submerged drop-off into deeper water. My bait glides smoothly across the surface with help from a steady cadence. Suddenly, the water erupts, and I feel the weight of a solid fish striking the lure. These are the rewards of waking up early and getting out there.

The post North Carolina Backwater Fishing appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

New Jersey Black Drum Fishing Spots

Black drum traditionally spawn around the full and new moons in April, May, and June, when the tides are super high, to allow for better chances of cross-pollination of the sperm and eggs. The full moon in April saw an unusual presence of hundreds, if not thousands, of black drum entering the relatively shallow Barnegat Bay system. The parade of drum provided incredible back-bay battles for boaters setting up on a clam chumslick, as well as dock and pier anglers tangling with drum pushing the 50- to 60-pound mark. This Barnegat Bay drum fishery was missing in recent history.

Fast forward to the May full moon and things got even weirder. The surfline from the barrier island at Island Beach State Park down through Long Beach Island was flooded with roving packs of big black drum pushing 30 to 75 pounds, offering up even more big game battles from the beach.

Black Drum Fishing Tackle

For surf fishing, rods and reels must be capable of handling these brutes. I employ a 12-foot Shimano Tiralejo rod matched with a Shimano 14000 Ultegra reel spooled with 50- to 65-pound PowerPro braided line. At the tag end, I attach a size 2 three-way swivel, a sinker clip with a 3- to 5-ounce pyramid sinker, and the last eye gets a 24-inch section of 50-pound fluorocarbon leader. For a hook, I snell on a size 10/0 Gamakatsu Big River bait hook.

In the surf, anglers are bait fishing with clams, so a super sturdy metal sand spike driven deep into the beach is needed to prevent your rod and reel setup from being stolen. Baits are simple. A whole fresh gob of shucked clam is pierced on the hook three or four times, then cast out into a deep cut or slough where the drum are feeding.

Best Tactics for Black Drum

The key to success is timing the tides. Your best bets are to fish around the high tides, generally two hours before and two hours after the dead high tide. Deep waters allow for the barrel-chested warriors to enter close to the surf line. Light to moderate 5 to 15 knot easterly onshore winds are preferred as they push water and schools of drum up onto the beaches. Add some north or west into the wind direction and achieve similar success. Main spots where drum feed are deeper holes, but also the inside and outside of the sandbars. The drum are searching for clams and crabs getting washed over the bars.

Once hooked to a big drum, hold on tight. Let them dictate the terms of the fight as the initial run is long and sustained. Surprisingly, they put up quite a tussle as they use their big broom-tails to power away from the shoreline. Expect them to surface and boil up trying to shake the hook. The end game is critical in the undertow of the surf. Don’t freak out and pull on the line hard, as the drum will use their weight on the receding waves to try and snap your line. Time the wave patterns and reel in when they get pushed up onto the sand with a crashing wave, then run down and grab the drum by the mouth or gill plate to land it effectively.

The post The Black Drum Boom in Jersey appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

I remember seeing my first free-swimming cobia. I’d heard reports about Florida and North Carolina anglers bringing their sight-fishing skills to my home waters of the Chesapeake Bay. I had to try that technique.

Since we needed full sun to spot a fish on the surface, I didn’t even launch the boat until 9 a.m. The summer day was glass calm, hot and humid. I stood at the helm of my 20-foot Jones Brothers bay boat; my brother Roger took the bow position, holding a heavy spinning rod baited with a 2-ounce bucktail. We zig-zagged at 6 knots up the Chesapeake Bay on the lookout. With perfect sight-fishing conditions, we quickly spotted a fin cutting a V-wake across the mirror-like water.

As I worked the boat closer, we saw a 4-foot long brown fish swimming just below the surface. I slowed the boat; Roger launched a cast, and the lure landed a few feet ahead of the cobia. The fin swirled, and the brown fish pounced on the lure. Roger came tight and hooked the fish. Easy, right?

Judging by that first try, sight fishing seemed easy. But if that was true, why do 10 percent of cobia anglers seem to catch 90 percent of the fish? To improve my game (and yours), as the cobia linger through late spring and early summer, I called three top pros and asked for some of their secrets. With new tools now in my box, I’m looking forward to sight-fishing for cobia.

Sight-Fishing for Cobia

Sight-fishing for cobia requires driving around a big ocean looking for a small brown dot. To narrow the odds, scan for bait pods, color or temperature changes, circling birds, turtles, sharks and rays. Cobia also hide around structures like buoys or pilings. Basically, anything out of the ordinary could hold a curious cobia. But consistently finding the fish takes more knowledge and effort. Guides who are on the water day after day track trends year after year. To truly target cobia, they have to predict the unpredictable.

Off of Destin, Florida, ounce considered the Mecca of cobia sight-fishing, Cameron Parkhurst, co-captain of the Instigator Fishing Team, says the season has seemed shorter in recent years, and it tends to wax and wane. Parkhurst theorizes that cobia ride ocean currents from Brazil into the Gulf. Any disruption in the current could result in fewer cobia passing northwest Florida.

With current playing a big part in cobia behavior, Parkhurst pays close attention to the direction and speed the coastal water moves. “Cobia are lazy and will use every advantage to migrate,” he says. Parkhurst prefers current-against-wind conditions. “This seems to bring the fish to the surface,” he says. Choppy seas also make it easier to spot the fish riding the face of a wave.

On Florida’s east coast, Capt. James Dumas of Drum Man Fishing Charters has also seen tougher cobia conditions. “The last few years have been horrible,” Dumas says bluntly. For Dumas, manta rays hold the key to finding cobia. As the giant winged fish glide down the beach, cobia follow in their wake. One ray can have a dozen cobia in tow, he says.

To start his search, the captain first puts water between himself and other anglers. South of St. Augustine, the next navigable inlet lies 40 miles away. Fishing the area in between, which Dumas calls “the desert,” gives him easier access to unmolested rays.

Don’t Get Too Close to Cobia Before Casting

Just because you see a cobia doesn’t mean you’ll get a chance to cast. Every time I spot a cobia, buck fever begins. I scream and point, ordering my friends around the boat while trying to get in position for a cast. In contrast, cobia pros remain cool and calculated in their approach. Capt. Donnie Davis of DOA Charters, who fishes the North Carolina Outer Banks for cobia and red drum, maneuvers his boat to match the fish’s speed and parallels its direction. He carefully closes the distance until he moves just inside casting range. “I want to make the longest cast possible,” he adds.

Davis positions the boat so that the fish swims directly off to the side or slightly behind him. When the fish takes the bait, Davis can motor ahead to help drive the hook home. As the angler fights the fish, Davis keeps the boat in gear so the fish stays off the stern. “If I lose a cobia in the motor or under the boat, it’s my fault,” he says

When it comes to hooking a cobia, Cameron Parkhurst advises captains to develop a strategy. Parkhurst keeps two live eels, two 2-ounce bucktails and a live pinfish or ruby lips ready to deploy. “First we throw the eel and then follow-up with the live bait,” he says. When Parkhurst finds a cobia school, he uses the bucktail to entice smaller fish away so he can target the biggest cobia with an eel. When Dumas spots a ray holding cobia, he approaches carefully. “If the ray goes down that’s it,” he says. Dumas used to turn off his outboard and drop the trolling motor, but he says the change in pitch spooks the fish.

Best Tackle for Cobia

While anglers often describe cobia as curious and aggressive, these fish can also be frustratingly picky. The trick to teasing a fussy cobia into taking your bait comes down to the details. The typical cobia rod and reel comprises a medium-heavy to heavy action spinning rod paired with a 5000- to 8000-size reel. Use the heavier set up for heavy jigs and big live baits; the lighter combo best casts a live eel. Spool the reel with 30- to 50-pound braided line tied with a line-to-leader knot or a 250-pound swivel to a 2-foot, 40- to 80-pound fluorocarbon leader. Clearer water and finicky fish call for lighter leader.

Starting with this base set up, each pro adds his own personal touch. Davis likes a shorter, 6-foot, 6-inch rod. “I hate to lose a fish close to the boat,” he says. A shorter rod offers more control when the fish is near gaffing range.

Read Next: Sight-Fishing Cobia off North Carolina

To pull a cobia off a ray, Dumas uses large paddletail swimbaits such as the Z-Man HerculeZ. “I think the thump of the swimbait’s tail gets the cobia excited,” he explains. When cobia grow finicky, he switches to a 6- to 8-inch jerk bait on a ½ ounce jighead. “I can cast the jerkbait 60 yards,” he says.

For Parkhurst, the secret to suckering a cobia is downsizing the leader and hook size. He likes to hook a live eel with a No. 4 4X treble hook. He pins the bait through the back just behind the pectoral fins. The small treble and light line are almost undetectable to sharp-sighted cobia. Little touches like that separate the cobia elite from the masses. This summer, consider tracking migration trends, developing a strategy for approaching the fish, and using the right tackle to up your odds.

The post Pros’ Tips for Sight-Casting to Cobia appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

As winter winds down, anglers along the Mid-Atlantic Coast prepare for the spring migration of trophy-size bluefish with great anticipation. Fishermen who winterize their boats and focus on other things during the coldest part of the year eagerly anticipate their arrival as a sure sign of spring. Year-round anglers look forward to pursuing a greater variety of fish species as coastal waters warm. While winter fishing for resident redfish and stripers satisfies our fishing fever, we welcome the arrival of chopper blues as the days begin to get longer again.

Usually by Easter, the first wave of bluefish shows around Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, as water temperatures start to respond to the gradual warming trend. When the wind starts blowing southwest, clean water pushes into North Carolina’s inlets and coastal sounds. The bluefish move in with the slightly warmer water, readily eating flashy metal lures and topwater stick baits and chuggers. 

Some years, the run along the Outer Banks is fickle without much warning. They come and go before many people realize they’ve shown up. Other years bluefish tend to hang around and really get the locals amped on their migration into the area. Be ready and have your gear organized — they will make a mess of even the most seasoned angler’s equipment. 

With a voracious appetite and marauding pack mentality, it’s best to have multiple rods rigged and ready for their arrival. There’s not much more fun than catching a big Hatteras bluefish on a topwater pencil popper! Find them schooled up in shallow water, cruising the shoals and flats along our coastline, for a special sight-casting experience. 

How to Find Bluefish

Locating the fish as they move inshore can be tricky. Often when cruising tight to the beach, locals will see the schools of 60 to 80 fish resting just under the surface. The fish are not actively moving, but reserving energy as they ride the current into nearshore waters. Sometimes, boaters see their fins sticking out of the water. Look for that “dark spot” that appears on the horizon. Make a slow approach and a well-placed cast — suddenly they come to life. Watching four or five blues break away from the school fighting over a plug is very exciting. On a few occasions, I have hooked two bluefish on the same lure, trying to take the plug away from their counterpart. 

Anglers also find them pushed up on the ever-changing shoals around Cape Hatteras and Cape Lookout in huge schools. These conditions require a skilled captain to put an angler within casting range as the fish like to get up in the shallow slop tight to the shoreline. Using a lure that allows for a long cast is imperative in this style of fishing, as they can get an unsuspecting boater in trouble. These dynamic zones are battered by waves coming from every direction. 

Bluefish Fishing Tackle

As far as tackle goes, I prefer to use a medium-action rod capable of casting up to two ounces of weight. The current can be strong here, forcing anglers to use a heavier jig. A 4000-class reel spooled with 20-pound braid gives the angler enough power to quickly pull the fish out of the school without getting broken off by another bluefish. I choose to tie a short, 50-pound fluorocarbon leader to my main line. 

The best lures to use when targeting the big blues make some commotion or flash when pulled through the water. A variety of metal casting spoons and jigs will get an angler tight. Try long-casting lures from 1 to 3 ounces that go the distance and have great action with a varied retrieve. You can keep them up on the surface with a fast steady retrieve or let them sink and jig them along the bottom. These lures also work extremely well surf fishing for blues as they run along the beach. 

The most exciting lures to use when casting to blitzing fish are surface lures. Sometimes they like the walk-the-dog style topwaters such as the Berkley J-Walker, but often a popper will entice a strike when they seem less interested. It is hard to beat a Berkley Cane Walker worked erratically on the surface in those scenarios. 

In most situations when you find the choppers schooled up, they are not skittish. On the best days, it seems like they’ll happily eat any offering you throw at them. For that reason, blues are great for introducing young anglers to the art of fishing with artificial lures. Their forgiving nature allows for a new angler to figure out how to cast and retrieve. Many of us were first introduced to the adrenaline rush of saltwater fishing thanks in large part to a bluefish attacking a poorly presented lure. While they are often forgiving in nature, they put up an amazing fight, leaping from the water multiple times. Blues have seared many fond memories into anglers’ minds all up and down the Atlantic seaboard. 

The post Spring Choppers and the Hatteras Blues appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Recent emergency regulations from the Maryland Department of Natural Resources have canceled the striped bass trophy season in 2024, affecting the Maryland portion of Chesapeake Bay. Currently, anglers can continue to catch-and-release fish for striped bass in Chesapeake Bay and its tidal tributaries until the end of March. From April 1 to May 15, fishing for striped bass is now prohibited.

The changes, approved by the Maryland General Assembly’s Joint Committee on Administrative, Executive, and Legislative Review, were made to bolster striped bass spawning populations. Chesapeake Bay is a crucial spawning and nursery area for 70 to 90 percent of Atlantic Coast striped bass, so the emergency measures aim to safeguard mature fish during their spring spawning migration.

More Striped Bass Changes

These Maryland-specific actions are in addition to coast-wide recreational measures set by the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission (ASMFC). In January, ASMFC approved an addendum (PDF) to the Interstate Fishery Management Plan for Atlantic Striped Bass that aims to reduce fishing mortality in 2024. For Chesapeake Bay anglers — which includes charter boats — the addendum implements a 19- to 24-inch slot limit and a bag limit of one fish per person, per day. For anglers fishing in the ocean, the addendum implements a 28- to 31-inch slot limit and a coast-wide daily bag limit of one fish.

What Caused the Emergency Striper Closures?

To be blunt, five years of below average spawning success for striped bass has been disastrous. In 2023, Maryland’s annual striped bass young-of-year index had a value of 1.0. That’s significantly lower than the long-term average of 11.1. This key index measures reproductive success. Unfavorable environmental conditions, such as warm winters and low water flows, were identified as contributing factors to the decreased spawning rates.

“The recent recruitment numbers of juvenile striped bass show that additional management efforts are necessary to protect the overall population,” said Lynn Waller Fegley, Maryland’s DNR Fishing and Boating Services Director.

The repercussions of these lowly spawns are expected to really show in the adult striped bass population over the next few years, as the juveniles mature, leading to reduced abundance of legal-sized fish. A comprehensive striped bass stock assessment is scheduled to be released in 2024 to determine how the species responded to previous management actions made by Maryland and other coastal states.

What’s the Future Hold?

Don’t be surprised if the emergency trophy season closure becomes an annual occurrence. Maryland is considering establishing these new rules permanently. In past years, the striped bass trophy season has taken place during the first two weeks of May. This is when large female striped bass typically make their way up the Chesapeake Bay to spawn in the same rivers where they hatched.

Maryland is also considering extending the recreational and charter boat summer closure by an extra week — from July 16 to Aug. 7 — and closing the commercial hook-and-line season during the recreational and charter boat summer closure. Data show this period is the hottest part of summer when striped bass are most vulnerable to dying after being caught and released. 

The post Maryland Cancels Trophy Striped Bass Season appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

A jack commonly caught in Costa Rica and the Gulf of Mexico was recently landed off the coast of North Carolina. Officials at the North Carolina Division of Marine Fisheries established a new state record for the species: an Almaco Jack (Seriola rivoliana).  

Angler Matt Frattasio, of Massachusetts, caught the 26-pound, 15.6-ounce fast-growing fish near the D Wreck off Morehead City in early November. He was aboard Riptide Charters fishing in 80 feet of water, baiting with a live menhaden on 50-pound gear. There was no previous state record in North Carolina for almacos.

Frattasio’s fish measured 36.4 inches (fork length) and had a 26-inch girth. The fish was weighed and identified by fisheries staff at the Division of Marine Fisheries Headquarters in Morehead City. Almaco jacks are part of the Seriola genus (amberjacks) — not surprisingly, they look similar to an amberjack.

Almaco Jack or Amberjack?

Anglers can have a tough time differentiating the two. Here’s the trick: Almacos are deeper-bodied and less elongated than amberjacks. Also, check the dorsal fins. That second dorsal is higher than the first dorsal on amberjack, but it’s nearly twice as tall as the first dorsal on almaco jacks.

Record Almaco Jack Catches

In Georgia, the current state record almaco is just over 7 pounds, while Florida’s state record tops out at 35 pounds, 9 ounces. The all-tackle world record stands tall at 132 pounds, caught in 1964 in La Paz, Baja California, Mexico. Most IGFA men’s line-class records for the species hail from Costa Rica and Panama.

Still, some almaco jack world records sit completely vacant. Part of that might be because they’re misidentified or possibly it’s that anglers fast-track the great-tasting fish straight into the cooler. At least five women’s line-class records are empty, most of them for fly tackle. The All-Tackle Length fly and junior records are also wide open.

For other instances of warm-water fish catches in states farther north, check out Connecticut’s tarpon, Maryland’s barracuda, New Jersey’s king mackerel and Washington’s dorado.

The post A New Record for North Carolina appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.