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09/27/02 - Posted 12:01:48 AM from the Daily Record
newsroom
Surf's up
Story and Photos by GREGORY J. RUMMO
 Now
that October is upon us, and the days are growing
shorter and the ocean temperature cooler, tourists
have all but disappeared from the beaches and
boardwalks along the Jersey shore.
But there are other visitors to the beaches.
Bluefish and striped bass are running in large
schools. And anglers are doing some running
themselves, across the beaches and into the foam to
catch these hungry predators as they chase baitfish
into the shallow surf.
It’s a heart-pounding event when a calm piece of
ocean suddenly begins to boil like a witches’
cauldron. White spray is kicked up into the breeze as
hundreds of ravenous bluefish tear into a school of
terrified mossbunker or mullet.
Sea gulls and terns join in the frenzy, careening
wildly overhead and diving to pick up the remains,
julienned by the bluefish’s razor-sharp teeth.
It’s called a “blitz” and it’s reminiscent
of an old “Ramar of the Jungle” episode, when a
stray cow wandered off into a piranha-infested river.
 I
have experienced several bluefish blitzes in the surf
in New Jersey. The most memorable have occurred in the
waters off Point Pleasant.
My earliest memories of Point Pleasant take me back
to when I was a five-year old boy. I grew up in
Westchester County, N.Y. but my mom and dad always
rented a bungalow down at the Jersey shore for a few
days every summer.
It was there that I cut my teeth on a saltwater rod
along the jetty in the Manasquan inlet and in the
ocean itself, fishing in the surf.
It’s only natural that the tradition should
continue to this day, over 40-years later.
I know, there are places like Island Beach State
Park and Sandy Hook where the surf fishing may be
better. But I am a creature of habit and when it comes
to fishing, nostalgia reigns supreme.
It was a little over ten years ago when I caught my
first striped bass in the surf on Jenkins beach at
Point Pleasant. It was an uncharacteristically warm
day for so late in the season. I remember the date
precisely—it was November 20, 1991—my older
son’s third birthday. I conned him into coming along
with me so he could play in the sand while I “played
in the sand” too. It was a warm 70-degree day. A
light breeze from the west blew the water flat and
kept us both comfortable.
My nine-foot graphite rod snapped a Bob Hahn plug
out beyond the breakers. These plugs are gorgeous
works of art, hand-carved from pieces of wood and then
lovingly painted. The artistic aspect was probably
lost on the striped bass, which was more interested in
a meal. The fish followed the plug for 50 yards—all
the way into the foam—before finally inhaling it in
a golden explosion of spray.
As my heart jumped into my throat, my arm
instinctively lifted the rod, driving the treble hook
into the bass’s jaw. My son ran over and a crowd
quickly gathered. I finally worked the exhausted fish
on to the beach. It lay in the sand; it’s gills
pumping weakly from the exertion.
Popping the plug quickly out of the bass’s upper
lip, I held it up for all to see, then gently released
it back into the surf for someone else to enjoy on
another day.
 I
love being on the beach at sunrise in the autumn with
a west wind at my back blowing the water flat. Striped
bass fishermen tell me the best time to fish is really
in the middle of the night but the fear of stepping
into a hole or being dragged out to sea by a rip tide
or driving a treble hook into the back of my head
because I can’t see what I am doing in the dark
outweighs any excitement over the prospect of a really
big fish.
I’ve been fortunate to hit some pretty good days
in the past.
I remember arriving late one morning well after
sunrise. The surf was alive with splashing bluefish
that had worked a school of bunker up against the
shoreline. It didn’t matter what you threw into the
water. Every cast produced a big, muscular fish for
roughly thirty minutes until the blues moved out into
deeper water beyond my surf rod’s casting range.
But I have also been skunked more times than I care
to admit.
And on one occasion, I drove all the way down to
the shore without ever once casting a plug into the
water.
When I left the house that morning at 5 A.M. the
stars were still out and the air was calm. But as I
got closer to the ocean, I started noticing the wind
in the trees. By the time I had arrived in the parking
area at the White Sands Hotel on Ocean Ave. in Point
Pleasant, the wind had really picked up. When I got
out of the car and walked up on to the beach, I was
almost blown over backwards by a blustery northeast
gale. The ocean was a frightening, greenish-gray
swirling maelstrom.
What I had witnessed first hand that morning were
the effects of the “Perfect Storm” along the
Jersey shore. Even though its center was hundreds of
miles out in the Atlantic Ocean, where it generated
waves as high as 100 feet, its power was felt all the
way to the coastline where it tore up hundreds of
miles of beaches and flooded low lying areas.
Living up here in Morris County, it’s not as
though we can stumble out of bed, fall into a pair of
chest waders and walk out on to the surf at our
leisure. It’s a 90-minute drive from my home to my
favorite haunts so it’s wise to call a tackle shop
down at the shore the day before you plan a trip to
learn about the latest fishing conditions. There’s a
great website, www.njfishing.com
that provides a list of these places as well as
information on water temperatures, tides and the
various species of fish including when and where they
can be caught.
There’s nothing quite as invigorating as wading
out into the ocean on a cool autumn morning with surf
rod in hand, hurling a “bomber” or a metal lure
into the rising sun. The crash of the waves, the smell
of the salt spray and the calls of the gulls and terns
all combine to paint a picture of resplendent bliss.
Tying into a fish is merely a bonus and even if you
leave empty-handed, it sure beats a day in the office.
Gregory J. Rummo is a syndicated columnist and
author of "The View from the Grass Roots,"
available from Amazon.com.
Contact the author at
GregoryJRummo@aol.com.
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Now
that October is upon us, and the days are growing
shorter and the ocean temperature cooler, tourists
have all but disappeared from the beaches and
boardwalks along the Jersey shore.
I
have experienced several bluefish blitzes in the surf
in New Jersey. The most memorable have occurred in the
waters off Point Pleasant.
I
love being on the beach at sunrise in the autumn with
a west wind at my back blowing the water flat. Striped
bass fishermen tell me the best time to fish is really
in the middle of the night but the fear of stepping
into a hole or being dragged out to sea by a rip tide
or driving a treble hook into the back of my head
because I can’t see what I am doing in the dark
outweighs any excitement over the prospect of a really
big fish.
