DZ
12-17-2008, 12:29 PM
Restaurant “Roccus Cooneymus”
It’s a pretty non-descript stretch of coast as far as island shorelines go but I love to walk it. A large crescent bowl flanked by the bar to the south and Martin’s to the north. The radar tower at Montauk looms clearly on the horizon some twenty miles distant. Scattered here and there are boulders in singles and clusters that poke through the surface at the lower tide stages. I refer to this stretch as “Roccus Cooneymus”. Most surf casters upon reaching the water’s edge will head like bees to honey for the distant bar on their left or to that “good looking” point on the right, many make the mistake of ignoring the innocuous shoreline in between. This stretch of shore is a restaurant to many stripers. They come here to feed on its abundant crabs, lobsters, and sand eels. This feeding station although always here is not always occupied. It takes time to learn its optimum times when the “table is set”. Those who know will seek Roccus here and cast shallow running needlefish plugs into the bubble weed shallows during darkness. A well placed cast into the bass lanes between specific boulders will often provide a surfcaster with a fish their tackle can’t handle – straightened or twisted trebles often result.
When the northwest winds of November push against a flood tide the resulting chop provides a great day time scenario for throwing tins, the very best being a two ounce Hopkins No=EQL adorned with white tube. Bass (and sometimes blues) feed aggressively in the highly oxygenized white water caused by these conditions. Casters are advised to pay attention during their retrieve as the swaying fronds of bubble weed will do their best to eat your tin before the fish.
Walking south I pass the fresh water spring flowing seaward through the cobble. I take a cast. Just before my offering reaches the first wave a bass appears visible in the curl – it turns and intercepts the bone redfin a mere two rod lengths away. As if in slow motion I watch as it shakes its head in an attempt to rid the trebles. Being no match for my heavy tackle it thrashes on the surface before taking a few short runs. Soon I slide the 20 pound bass onto the wet gravel at my feet. A bright fish with dark olive back - its seven stripes glistening in the late afternoon sun while the sand fleas scurry on its white belly. As I release her I look around and not another soul is in sight. I’m the only one here and the restaurant is open. I smile, then help myself to seconds…
Merry Christmas
It’s a pretty non-descript stretch of coast as far as island shorelines go but I love to walk it. A large crescent bowl flanked by the bar to the south and Martin’s to the north. The radar tower at Montauk looms clearly on the horizon some twenty miles distant. Scattered here and there are boulders in singles and clusters that poke through the surface at the lower tide stages. I refer to this stretch as “Roccus Cooneymus”. Most surf casters upon reaching the water’s edge will head like bees to honey for the distant bar on their left or to that “good looking” point on the right, many make the mistake of ignoring the innocuous shoreline in between. This stretch of shore is a restaurant to many stripers. They come here to feed on its abundant crabs, lobsters, and sand eels. This feeding station although always here is not always occupied. It takes time to learn its optimum times when the “table is set”. Those who know will seek Roccus here and cast shallow running needlefish plugs into the bubble weed shallows during darkness. A well placed cast into the bass lanes between specific boulders will often provide a surfcaster with a fish their tackle can’t handle – straightened or twisted trebles often result.
When the northwest winds of November push against a flood tide the resulting chop provides a great day time scenario for throwing tins, the very best being a two ounce Hopkins No=EQL adorned with white tube. Bass (and sometimes blues) feed aggressively in the highly oxygenized white water caused by these conditions. Casters are advised to pay attention during their retrieve as the swaying fronds of bubble weed will do their best to eat your tin before the fish.
Walking south I pass the fresh water spring flowing seaward through the cobble. I take a cast. Just before my offering reaches the first wave a bass appears visible in the curl – it turns and intercepts the bone redfin a mere two rod lengths away. As if in slow motion I watch as it shakes its head in an attempt to rid the trebles. Being no match for my heavy tackle it thrashes on the surface before taking a few short runs. Soon I slide the 20 pound bass onto the wet gravel at my feet. A bright fish with dark olive back - its seven stripes glistening in the late afternoon sun while the sand fleas scurry on its white belly. As I release her I look around and not another soul is in sight. I’m the only one here and the restaurant is open. I smile, then help myself to seconds…
Merry Christmas