I have a favorite pair of shoes. They're not my sneakers, not my workboots, or even my flip flops. They are blue and made of heavy rubber. They have no laces and they come up to the top of my shins. They are my muck boots. They're not pretty, or dressy, or proper for the conference room at work. But this is why I love them. When I put them on it means I'm going out to get dirty, splash through puddles, or just stomp through the muck. I know when I put them on I am going out to have some messy fun.
Squdding is fun. Squidding is messy. Squidding is a good use for my big blue muck boots. Last Thursday night was a good night for squidding and my muck boots.
Tony Petrarca told me it would stop raining by 9 PM that night and it did. I always trust Tony. At 8:30 I met Nick in Newport. I had just bummed a small spare 1kW generator from my father that day and replaced the bulbs in my tripod halogen work lights. When I picked up the genset my father says, "Now tell me again what it is you need this for?" ;-)
This was our first time fishing with a real set of lights utilizing our own power, so neither of us was really sure what to expect. The area is very dark and requires you to bring your own lights for the task. I was surprised there was no one else around. I've been on nights when it was almost too crowded to fish. We set the lights up over the bulkhead. I fired up the generator and we kicked on the lights.
And then there was light....
The place lit up like the front of the Bellagio. It wasn't long before a few stray glass minnows found their way to the false security of our artificial sanctuary of light. We stood there for a couple minutes staring at our creation when the first wave moved in. They shot in out of the dark. A school of 100 or so. All big, 9-12 inches. They blazed in fast and furious only to stop and suspend once they reached the light. Nick says, "OK. I believe you." and went back to the truck for his gear. This is about the time another genteman by the name of Scott pulled up to ask how we were doing. I threw my jig over and pointed. "Holy sh&%!" Scott ran back to his truck for his rod.
I got one immediately. As soon as I hooked him the school vanished. Nick and Scott returned to the bulkhead to find a glowing empty piece of water. Nick goes, "What did you do?" Is said, "I caught one" ;-)
Twenty minutes or so passed and another wave pushed in. I was working the area under the light, Nick toward the right edge, and Scott working the shadow line on the left. Scott was catching quite a few. I caught a couple and so did Nick. These creatures can be finicky in quiet, clear, bright water. You have to convince them to hit. If you jerk too hard or early they will back off. But if you are patient and steady they will come over and inspect. You need to move at the right moment. They will shift in slowly, and feel the lure with their tentacles. Sometimes they will grab it by the side or just touch it with one of their arms. But you need to wait. You need to wait until one wraps himself around the business end of the jig. It takes patience and nerves and is very similar to targeting bass under lights. If the fish are not suicidal, you need to play with and tempt them. It is really intense and it's also a blast.
Other schools would come through a little more aggressively. Then a pattern emerged. It all started after we spotted a small school of fish transiting up current along the base of the bulkhead beneath us. They looked to be bass. We were getting close to the bottom of the tide so we could clearly see all the way to the bottom. Scott was convinced they were bass. He returned to his truck to retrieve another pole. This time it was a bigger rig suitable for bridge fishing. He quickly rigged up a fresh squid with a sinker and tossed it out beyond the light. I wanted him to catch a really big bass. He rested the pole on the rail, engaged the clicker and set it on free spool. Now we wait.
It wasn't long before the clicker started clicking. He nearly threw his squid rig on the ground, but didn't get to his pole in time. The fish had dropped it, and seconds later another wave of squid pushed in. This time they were aggressive. Nick and I grabbed a bunch, but now Scott was presented with a choice. Squid or bass. Eventually he chose squid. Things were starting to get lively. It happened several more times. Scott's bass rig would go off and a school of squid would push in with a fury. Like clockwork each time. It appeared that when a predator lurked nearby in the dark, squid would throw caution to the wind and begin franticly grabbing at potential food.
As it neared slack low the squidding slowed down with it. But, other creatures started to appear and move around. Earlier we had seen a sea robin soaring around beneath the lights, a skate, and eventually a small school of tataug showed up. The tog would pass along the bulkhead occasionally turning to one side, rubbing their sides on the bottom. I'd never seen this behavior before and was intrigued. Once the tide turned I'd hoped the squidding would improve accordingly. But it wasn't happening. Out in front to the left I heard a splash. This time it was definitely a bass. Scott reset his bass rig.
A short while later we were visited by another bass. He pushed through under our lights. He wasn't in a hurry, he was just poking around. It was clear that he was in charge of the area and he knew it. The fish was a low teen size (pounds). Dinner for sure. Nick and I watched as he cruised the area. Scott tried franticly to free his bass rig which was now snagged on the bottom. I could tell he was frustrated.
For another hour this bass would push in and out of our lights. The squid would never return with this guy guarding the perimeter. He owned the place. I tried to catch him so we might resume squidding but I had no luck. Tonight he would win.
We decided to pack it in well after midnight. Just as we were turning the lights out, a school of squid finally returned.
Jigs back in the water. :-)
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