Part 2. Marvelous at Monomoy
Oh sure, finding the dark channel of deep water isn't that hard. Look for the boats going through. At low tide, when we arrived, the channel was a mere quarter of a mile across an undulating dry beach that looked like a topographical map, with all sorts of elevations and depressions.
Except, as the tide comes up, it doesn't come from one place. It rushes in at you from all directions and before you know it, the expanse between you and those bluffs is under water, and more so every minute. Every year, an inexperienced fisherman or two don't make it back because of the strong currents created by tidal action, height of tide or fog. Wading a couple of miles through waist deep water with currents I can tell you is exhausting, even without the imperative of a tide rushing in.
As for the fishing, well, that's more familiar but has its special demands. Worldwide, there always seems to be a strong wind in your face just when you have to cast a little beyond your best distance. Bearing in mind, we're using stiff Orvis 9 wt. rods loaded with sinking lines and pushing weighted clousers. Your arm will be three feet longer by the end of the day. Randy favors thinly-tied, surprisingly small sand eel imitations in olive and white with a little sparkle and chartreuse added.
"It's just like freshwater fishing,'' says the perpetually easygoing Randy, who should know since he guides on Lake Ontario's Salmon River from September to April. Randy lives in Pulaski, and rents a cottage on the Cape for his guiding service, from May to September. He's been at this for 22 years, and there isn't a grain of Monomoy he hasn't trod on before.
He has an aw-shucks manner reminiscent of the country singer Jimmy Dean. Randy, 40, is from Davenport, Iowa, which probably explains it. "Match the hatch, look around for what the likely bait will be these fish are here to feed on, and match it.'' Sand eels in the region are small and distinctly olive, and they are the favored ones.
We caught all of our fish casting blind into darker waters and jerking back rather quickly the fly a foot and half at a time, after letting the fly drop a good 10 seconds. Fish along the bottom, he insists, because that's where the bait fish are.
Randy waded around all day carrying his signature three-step aluminum ladder which he periodically used to scan for cruising fish. Although the sun wasn't bright enough on our adventure to allow enough time between his calling out a candidate -- "over there, 20 feet and leaving us "-- and my reacting with a fumbling cast.
Yeah, that's it, it was the sun's fault.
( See Photo )
Fred LeBrun is a writer from the Albany Times Union newspaper.
To see Daily Fishing Reports with Photo's - http://www.yankeeangler.com - Fishing Reports
May all your doorknobs smell of fish!
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