Tuna Time!
By Capt. Ian Fawthrop
It's the end of June and the majority of striped bass in NJ have pushed north. The weather patterns are calm and the air temperatures are climbing. The calm ocean days enable anglers to push offshore in search of Bluefin Tuna. These weather windows also allow many of us to push east with smaller center consoles and return before the southerly afternoon winds pick up.
We meet at 4:00 am to depart before the sunrise. The goal is to get to the midshore grounds at sunrise. Our first destination is 30 miles east-northeast of Barnegat Inlet. The sea is dead calm and the chill in the air is refreshing from the 90 degree land temps. The sun is rising and there is no hiding from the blinding light as we point east. We make a stop halfway out to relieve ourselves from the heavy consumption of coffee. We prep rods as the next stop could be our final destination of chaos. A quick safety check before we start again after you are reminded how far away you are from land and no cell phone service. As we begin to run again the excitement level begins to build.
After an hour we reach our first destination looking for any signs of life. This includes birds, whales, porpoises, and of course tuna. Things are quiet, we push another 10 miles east. As I stop we see a whale surfacing and we all jump up ready for action. We study the whale's activity and look for any signs of tuna. Nothing. We make a cast with a surface popper on spinning gear to see if there are any tuna picking up the whales leftovers below the surface. No action. I pull a 14 weight fly rod out, dump some line off the reel into a stripping buckt, tighten the drag, and place the rod in the stripping bucket. It is almost time, things getting fishier. We push another 10 Miles east and there is a certain smell and feeling in the air. I see a small patch of birds working in the distance and we slowly push towards them. There is something pushing bait to the surface giving the birds an easy pick at food. I dive for my rod, make a cast and the birds are fighting over my fly. No matter how deep I try and get my fly these nasty birds aggressively swim after. Everything is aggressive out here and it reminds you that you are out of your normal or natural environment. Porpoises start to break setting off a false alarm. But when there are porpoises there's a good chance tuna are there. So we become even more optimistic. Another group of birds form even heavier than the first in a short distance. We push to them and the water looks very agitated. A tuna back breaks and we see the shape of a fin and tail we have all been waiting for. We now have 2 anglers casting fly rods in the bow and stern. The casts are frantic. Our coordination & timing is off and you remind yourself to take a deep breath from the uncontrollable level of excitement. You start to question your game plan. Will this rod handle one of these fish, will my knots fail, am I stripping at the right speed, or could this be the only shot. At the end of your strip there is a frantic attempt to make another cast to get your fly back in the zone. Things are going good now with tuna completely coming out of the water in mixed sizes. Please stay up! Please stay up! I position the boat in front of the Tuna so they are coming at us now. The perfect presentation for our albie flies on steroids. We get our flies in the mix a number of times, but no takes. The frustration is setting in, do I need a bigger fly, different color, slower strip. In all the chaos I look down in the water and an 8' hammerhead shark cruises by the side of the boat. We have just made a transition into a moving aquarium of aquatic life. All local predators are here at the buffet and we are in the center of it all.
Things are escalating with multiple groups of birds and topwater activity. Bluefin are violently slashing through the sand eels that have been pushed to the surface. You can hear the water being pushed everywhere now. I freeze watching in awe of the power of these fish. I hear the words "There It Is" look over and Paul is tight in the bow. For a second there's dead wait enabling him to give 3 big hook sets. A second later he is deep into his backing and the fish makes a run at us and continues under the boat. There's a little bit of smoke and a burning smell coming off the reel. Paul is trying his best to reposition himself and the rod to the port side of the boat without the line hitting the nose of the boat. I give a backing check and it is almost gone. As I jump to start the motors and give chase the fish breaks off. We are both shaking from the pure power of what we just witnessed. As we gather ourselves and pray for another opportunity things really start to heat up. I position myself in the bow of the boat. Now it's my turn, we are gonna have to team play. One guy fish, one guy steady at the helm. Paul pushes me on the outside of a feeding frenzy pushing right towards us. This has got to be it! This is the perfect situation and position to give presentation. I cast my fly out and 3 strips I feel a knock and I give 2 or three hook sets. My line jumps off the deck and I luckily guide it through a clenched fist without any snags or knots. Again, the fish torpedoes under the boat towards the stern. I put my rod tip deep into the water so my line clears the props. I'm clear and the fish continues unphased as I end up in the stern. My forearm is burning from the one handed rod dip while not losing the rod. Gaining control of my position I look at my backing I realized the braid is crossed under itself and my drag comes to a halt. My line goes limp, the fish is off. Disappointment immediately strikes.
We both try and settle down and make some adjustments to our setups. My adjustment is a major one, it includes stripping half my backing off to expose a tangle. While these adjustments are being made there are still tuna busting. The look from Paul is of disgust. Making these adjustments in a frantic state is challenging. This is a team game. One person can't fish without the second being ready to chase at the helm if needed. 20 minutes go by and I am finally ready. I can't believe it, the fish are still going nuts. We pull into position. This time it's all or nothing. We ditch our team plan and both start casting. I hook up, line clears off the deck somehow, and the fish immediately takes a B line 200 yards into my backing. After the first long run there were 3-4 short runs. The beginning of this battle is everything you ever wanted to feel on a fly rod. I play tug of war for 15 minutes gaining distance. Just as I think the battle is won I remind myself of the death spiral that's ahead. The tuna darts straight down 200' to the ocean floor. From here the Tuna has got me. I pump and gain 3 reel turns, he takes five. This madness goes on for 20 minutes. My back is tight and maybe I should hand the rod to Paul. No! I will not for fit this battle. I wanna just lay down but, I have to keep going. I must accomplish landing this bluefin. Finally, after positioning the boat many times to better angle the leverage, the tuna does its last spiral to the surface. Paul grabs the leader and the tuna seems tame now at a reachable distance. One, then the two hands around the tail. A hefty pull into the boat and a bluefin is laying on our deck. We are both silent and stair in disbelief. The shock wears off and I scream in excitement with a massive high five. We take a quick picture and the fish is released.
Unfortunately, the action came to a grinding halt and we prepared for the long run back in. There's a certain feeling of relief when you call it and start to head in no matter what kind of day you had. Being 50 miles from civilization and the 8 hours of adrenaline is exhausting. Your safety is out of your control and depends on a forecast and your boats mechanics. But all of this is what makes tuna hunting so exciting. On the way in I had plenty of time to think of our day, playing those special moments over and over in my head. How I can be more successful next time, How happy fishing makes us, & How much time and devotion we spend in doing something we love. I am truly thankful to be able to chase these opportunities, all while having good health. Every part of fishing should be enjoyable; from that first cup of coffee, the friendships, the conversations, the excitement, the casting, the hook sets, the surprises, the beauty of our surroundings, our fisheries, and to finally getting home safe and feeling the comfort of your bed.
Albie Madness!
By Capt. Ian Fawthrop
The 2017 season in the North East was full on albie invasion from Massachusetts to New Jersey, making it the longest and most epic season yet. The action started in late August and trickled into mid-November. Schools of albies where spread out from points to coves up and down the coast.
The action was visually stunning with schools thrashing through bait on the surface giving their locations away. The slashing blitzes were fast and furious and would put your frantic casting skills to the test.
In some parts of the country albies are usually considered a nuisance, but in the north east they are a highly sought after game fish welcomed after the dry spell of summer. As the striped bass action slows in July and August, the arrival of albies is highly anticipated. The first sign is usually the showing of the atlantic bonito. Then, the first catch reports will be heard from the outer islands such as Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket. The Albies push east to west on this seasonal migration to cause chaos. Hearts are broken, knots are tested and drags burn on these gear testers. Frustration comes from many angles. Albies are quick and you may only have a cast or two each time you get a shot. Refusals, bad casts, line tangles, break offs and fast strips get the blood pumping hours on end. You will work for your fish and there is no better reward for it then the sound of your drag screaming.
False albacore aka; albies, fat alberts or little tunny, were most certainly put here for fly rods. No other technique can quite accomplish the small presentation of a bay anchovy. Beyond the beauty of these aquatic footballs, their anatomy is special and there is a reason they put up such a memorable battle. Their hydro dynamic torpedo like bodies are built for speed which bursts up to 40 mph at 60’ per second, having you questioning your fly line to backing knot. 75% of the albie body weight is in fact all muscle. Albies do not have a bladders which controls a typical fish’s depth in the water column, so they always must be moving. Their pectoral fins control and vertical direction are like an airplane wing. Both pectoral and dorsal fins retract and fit into depressions to prevent any drag. The albies fins and finlets are sleek which control there quick burst of speed like a fighter jet.
The best fly rod is a fast action 9wt with a large arbor reel and a good drag. An intermediate line will satisfy the surface and subsurface feeds. A 20lb fluorocarbon leader is the norm while 15lb or smaller maybe needed for finicky situations. I personally like to cut a 9’ leader down to 6 feet and add a micro swivel and then attached a 2-3 foot tippet. A micro swivel will prevent the twist in your line from fighting an albie and all the quick casts. Matching the hatch is important as albies have keen eyesight and are always keyed in on their prey. The hatch mainly consists of bay anchovies, sand eels, silversides, peanut bunker or butterfish. A tried and true classic is the albie whore while the latest and most popular are epoxy variations of Bob Popovics surf candy. Natural colors are great for casting to the outside of a blitz or blind casting and colors like pink and chartreuse will catch the eye within a feeding frenzy.
The best starting points in finding albies are tidal current areas such as rips or points. These areas are huge vacuums for bait which create a buffet for the packs of albies. Tidal movement is always important to get things going. Throughout the day, currents will gain or be reduced with tidal flow and the schools will push back or out with the bait.
From a boat, positioning is key. Getting ahead and parallel of a moving school will give you the most casts. This will also prevent you from breaking up the feed and any moving pattern. Always try and cast beyond the fish and pull your fly through the frenzy. Although, I have casted a fly into the middle and the millisecond it landed it was taken like a trout. A quick two handed strip will ensure you have good contact with your line and fly. If you don’t hook up in the frenzy always try a few casts for some stragglers. When the albies show no direct moving patterns they can often circle, zig zag or figure eight. This can cause to much run and gun chaos. Position yourself with patience and blind cast to where you think they may pop up again.
The toughest and most rewarding albie hook up is from land. Albies will often come in reach at beaches, rips and jetties. A two handed rod could help in the extra casting distance needed when they are just out of range. If there is no surface activity there may be sub surface. Albies will cruise along jetties and beach troughs picking off bait trying to find refuge. And if you’re lucky it will be all out mayhem with albies pinning bait up against your feet at these locations.
The 2017 albie season will be one to remember. Most anglers definitely got their fill of action with over 60 days to do so. Arms were sore and faces were wind burnt. The memories will always be a click away @ #albiemadness. We all look forward to 2018 and what this great fishery has to offer again.
