Strippers to Starboard
Over the hum of the twin engines and the cries of gulls overhead, Mike’s voice rang out above the noise, “Stripers!” Without a second’s hesitation, Dale spun the wheel, pushed the throttle forward, and veered northeast along the Great Point sandbar on the Atlantic side. We traveled for about a mile before Dale abruptly turned the boat, heading directly for the shallows of the bar where the water barely crested at 2 ½ feet. “Stripers starboard!” he shouted to us, and from his perch on the fly bridge, Dale had already spotted what we were about to witness.
It took me a few seconds to make sense of the scene, but soon the waters revealed hundreds of big striped bass feeding on bait in the turbulent wash where the water poured over the bar. It was a feeding frenzy. Without wasting any time, I tossed my fly just beyond the rippling backs of the fish, eager to get in on the action. My cast landed, and before I could even begin to strip in the line, I felt a pull—but it wasn’t a striper. Mike quickly reassured me, “Sorry man, you’ve got another bluefish,” as I fought the feisty nine-pound blue. Though I was fine with the catch, Mike remained determined to help me hook a striper, so he gave me a quick refresher on how to position my fly to avoid the blues.
With hundreds of gulls and terns dive-bombing for bait overhead and countless fish darting around us, the scene was almost overwhelming. But Mike’s voice cut through the chaos, instructing me on how to target the stripers. Dale, meanwhile, was still spotting fish from above, shouting, “Stripers on both sides and behind the boat!” The excitement was palpable as I focused on Mike’s instructions, though my attention was constantly drawn back to the frenzy of feeding fish.
When Mike confirmed that I had it right, I quickly got my fly back in the water, my eyes scanning for the light-grey shadows of stripers amidst the darker, faster-moving blues. As a bluefish made a run toward my fly, Mike’s quick call of “Bluefish!” had me yanking my line out of the water and resetting near the stripers. Mike’s guidance paid off almost immediately, and before long, I had my first Nantucket striper on the line. The thrill of hooking one of these powerful fish on the fly was nothing short of exhilarating, and every successful cast had me feeling more confident.
A Successful Day Fishing in Siasconset, or “Sconset.”
We fished the bar until the tide began to slacken and the baitfish dispersed. For a brief moment, the fish seemed to retreat, but the cycle would soon start again with the next tide. We made our way back to Siasconset, where I found the family gathered at the old picnic table beneath a weathered umbrella, chatting and enjoying the warmth of the evening. Their contented smiles welcomed me, and it was clear they hadn’t noticed how much time had passed since I left for my fishing adventure.
A box of “Aunt Leah’s Fudge” sat empty on the table—proof that my family had enjoyed their time just as much as I had enjoyed mine. Still, there was no sense of disappointment. I was full in every sense, satisfied by a day of successful fishing and the thrill of a new experience. As the sun dipped low, I knew this trip would be one of many fond memories of Nantucket.
Original Article By Gary and Robin Edwards
About The Author
Gary and Robin Edwards have been sharing their experiences in the outdoors for the last 25 years. Together they have traveled and fished across the country and around the world. Their fishing exploits have been featured in Sports Afield, Field & Stream, Outdoor Life, Fly Fisherman, and numerous regional publications, as well as on ESPN and PBS. The Edwards offer hosted trips to Mexico, the Bahamas, Argentina, Belize, Wyoming, Montana, and more through their business Vacations on the Fly. www.vacationsonthefly.com
