Jamaica Bay Stripers

Jamaica Bay is like no other fishery in the US. It is surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean to the south and east, and by New York City on the other sides. It may not have the beauty of the Marquesas or the crystal-clear water of the Keys, but I believe that it is perhaps the most unique and beautiful fishery along the east coast. It’s 4am on a Sunday. After the bars have shut down and the majority of the city is sleeping I am starting my day. Thank God for strong bodega coffee. As I am waiting for the A train I double check my gear before the 45 minute ride to Queens to meet my friend at the marina. The thought of asking him to pick me up crossed my mind, but I love riding in an empty train on my way to fish. (Plus, he’s the one with the boat, so I can’t get too pushy.) Any other time of the day I would get blank stares and repeated questions for having a nine-weight and hip pack on the platform. People seem flabbergasted that one would actually fish in New York City, and to be frank I like that aspect of it. The ride out gives me time to get my head in the game. It’s early and I probably shouldn’t have had that last beer(s). I arrive at the marina on time, but I feel late. My buddy didn’t go out last night. He is geared up and has the boat ready to go. As soon as my foot hits the boat we are off. After slowly meandering through the docks we hit the bay. It’s like glass, not even a slight chop from the breeze. We cross under the subway bridge, and it’s surreal as a subway train passes over the bridge with sparks shooting out from the poor connections. The juxtaposition between the city environment and that of the bay gives me chills every time. The city skyline in the background would put a smile on the face of even the smuggest of New Yorkers. It’s beautiful. The sun is starting to break as we arrive at the Coney Island flats. The flats are a large area where the bay meets the Atlantic with picturesque Coney Island in the background. It’s a menhaden trap with its whirling currents and hordes of fish patrolling the flats during the tides. We spot a massive school of birds diving. It’s on. Without any warning my buddy guns it and sends me back-peddling a few steps. As soon as we get close we can see the menhaden jumping and hundreds of flashes racing by underneath the boat. Blues, gorilla blues. I wasn’t prepared so I have to re-rig my leader with about eight inches of 15-pound wire to avoid getting chomped off. My buddy is already teasing me ‘cause he is hooked up and his drag is screaming. I finally manage to get my leader on my full-sinking line and put on a Clouser- Deceiverish jam pattern. I pick a brand new fly for good measure. My first cast I bomb right into a flock of birds. Surprised I didn’t hook one, yup, I’ve seen that happen before. Within five seconds I feel hard bumps and then boom! I strip-set the hook hard and the blue is off and running. I am in my backing in about five seconds. We are doubled up on our first casts of the day. When we get the blues to boat we realize they are decent-sized fish, around nine pounds each. We play the mine-is-bigger the jetty gets us there right at an incoming tide. We set up in the drift after we spot a massive school of bunker. A few drifts and nothing. We return back inside the bay and hit the go-to spots. It’s now light outside. There are more people out locking down the bridge spots, so we start pounding the shore. After a few casts toward shore, we spot some kamikaze seabirds and gun it toward the action. I’m standing on the bow like a hung-over Leonardo DiCaprio, ready to cast. We get closer. It’s bass. Big bass. They have the bunker pinned up on shore in about 12 inches of water. Splashes from bass and bunker make it look like a New Jersey hot tub. One cast and I’m on. Stripers give a big deep- lunge type of run. The pure strength of this fish makes me get nervous for my knots. They hold. The fish shakes its head a few times and runs again. I finally get the big girl to surface and it is easily my biggest striper on a fly. I’m shaking as I get it to the boat. I look up only to see JFK airport 200 yards in front of me. We are super close and in the back of my mind I am hoping we don’t trip off the Homeland Security sensors. The bass party is over once the NYPD boats show up, but this time we got lucky. Stripers themselves aren’t so lucky. Their numbers dwindle every year. I’ve seen it happen over my five years fishing hard for them. The truth is that a striper’s main food source, the menhaden, is being caught at an alarming rate and being ground into food for aquaculture and pets. (Think about that the next time you’re chowing down on that farmed salmon or feeding Fufu.) Ninety percent of the Atlantic’s menhaden has been harvested in just the past 25 years. The good news: according to the most recent study, it is believed that menhaden are on the rebound.