piemma
11-16-2023, 07:30 AM
For those of you who never read this when it was published.
Fresh Pond Habs
It was late September and the first Nor’ Easter of the Fall was bustling its way down the coast. Due to the conditions, I couldn’t get anyone to fish with me so I went alone. My routine was to start in Narragansett at Black Point and work West.
I got to the parking lot on Ocean Road and the wind was really howling but Black Point could be hot, on the drop, if the wind was North East. There is so much structure to hold bait, the bass could find easy pickings.
I suited up: Grundon Top, Neoprene wader and belt and Korkers. I headed down the path which was always a spooky walk as there are no lights on the half mile walk to where I would climb the rocks down into the cove.
As the path reaches the shoreline you can see 100 yards in either direction and I didn’t like what I saw. Waves were crashing over the rocks everywhere. My secret spot to the North was under water. My “go to” spot to the South was getting hit with 15 foot waves and some even bigger. Nope, these were not the conditions to fish this spot, especially alone. I headed back to the truck trying to figure my next move. I hadn’t figured it being as rough as it was and had to think for a bit.
I knew The Point would be out of the question as would all the frontage on Ocean Road and everything on the East side. I could head down the coast to the Westerly area and at least be around the “corner”. Checked in at Galilee Channel and it was dropping fast. Too fast to fish except with maybe 5 oz bucktails. So off I went looking for that magical spot that will give up a “fat girl”.
I ducked into Charlestown and when to the back of the breachway. I knew it would be insane to go in front on the rocks. Took a half dozen cast and had a bump so maybe some fish also headed into the pond to escape the maelstrom out front. Six more cast and nothing happened so I packed up and headed West.
Quonny might be a good bet, especially at this time of year but it was always a dangerous spot and alone, with this weather, could be a recipe for disaster. I stopped at another go to spot but the tide wasn’t down quite enough yet and you can get your ass kicked at this place in the daytime with no wind. A bar consisting of round, slime covered rocks similar to bowling balls covered with grease. Tough wading and dangerous in these conditions.
Ok, I got it! Fresh Pond Rock! Fresh Pond Rock is a spot on East Beach before Quonny but after Charleston and Ninigret Pond. Named for a fresh water pond off the beach, it has hundreds of rocks that jut out from a sandy beach on both sides. There is a huge current here and I have seen it totally buried so not a rock is showing, to after a big storm, hundreds of big boulders jutting out 300 feet into the surf. It is a natural trap for bait and there is deep water off the tip of the rocks, so Stripers feel secure in their surroundings.
It is about 3:00 AM, 45 degrees and pouring rain. Just one of those nasty early morning that you question your sanity for being where you are. I was fishing a needlefish made by a well know manufacturer of fine plastic lures.
This was probably 90 or 91 so we were just coming out of the moratorium. Limit was 1, Bass, 36” or more. I hadn’t had a bump and was getting discouraged. Figured I had to wait it out as we were an hour from the bottom and false dawn was an hour and change away.
I got out of the water and went up to the big rock that has a natural seat on the back side of it. Head down, hood up and just miserable. Suddenly someone is standing in front of me. This guy has a Fu Manchu mustache and just looks at me and says:
“Well *&&^^, you gonna sit there feeling bad for yourself or are you gonna fish?” I said that I hadn’t had a bump in 2 hours. He grabs my rod and cuts off my needlefish and throws it up on the beach near the snow fence. I’m thinking I am in the presence of a madman.
He hands me a white needlefish with pink on the front and says:
“John Habs is my name and I’m making these needlefish. This is a prototype, and none have hit the market yet”.
So Habs and I get back in the surf and on my second cast I’m one! John hooks up almost at the same time. For the next 2 hours, right through dawn, we are hammering fish, some up to 20 pounds but most in the 12 to 15-pound range.
I had not seen fishing like this since the 70s and certainly not since the moratorium. Finally, the tide was dead low and the rain had let up. The bite magically died as it got light.
John and I talked for quite awhile and he gave me several more needlefish and a couple jointed, metal lip swimmers. I became a lure tester for John and sadly, I lost all the metal lip jointed plugs. I still have several of his prototype needlefish which I will never fish. Habs Sr. needlefish have become extremely collectable because of their fish catching ability. They swim right, they sink at the right rate of descent and they just drive Stripers crazy
John and I became close friends and fished a lot together in the following years. John died in September of 2007 and I still miss him and think of him every time I fish the surf with a Habs Sr. needlefish.
Fresh Pond Habs
It was late September and the first Nor’ Easter of the Fall was bustling its way down the coast. Due to the conditions, I couldn’t get anyone to fish with me so I went alone. My routine was to start in Narragansett at Black Point and work West.
I got to the parking lot on Ocean Road and the wind was really howling but Black Point could be hot, on the drop, if the wind was North East. There is so much structure to hold bait, the bass could find easy pickings.
I suited up: Grundon Top, Neoprene wader and belt and Korkers. I headed down the path which was always a spooky walk as there are no lights on the half mile walk to where I would climb the rocks down into the cove.
As the path reaches the shoreline you can see 100 yards in either direction and I didn’t like what I saw. Waves were crashing over the rocks everywhere. My secret spot to the North was under water. My “go to” spot to the South was getting hit with 15 foot waves and some even bigger. Nope, these were not the conditions to fish this spot, especially alone. I headed back to the truck trying to figure my next move. I hadn’t figured it being as rough as it was and had to think for a bit.
I knew The Point would be out of the question as would all the frontage on Ocean Road and everything on the East side. I could head down the coast to the Westerly area and at least be around the “corner”. Checked in at Galilee Channel and it was dropping fast. Too fast to fish except with maybe 5 oz bucktails. So off I went looking for that magical spot that will give up a “fat girl”.
I ducked into Charlestown and when to the back of the breachway. I knew it would be insane to go in front on the rocks. Took a half dozen cast and had a bump so maybe some fish also headed into the pond to escape the maelstrom out front. Six more cast and nothing happened so I packed up and headed West.
Quonny might be a good bet, especially at this time of year but it was always a dangerous spot and alone, with this weather, could be a recipe for disaster. I stopped at another go to spot but the tide wasn’t down quite enough yet and you can get your ass kicked at this place in the daytime with no wind. A bar consisting of round, slime covered rocks similar to bowling balls covered with grease. Tough wading and dangerous in these conditions.
Ok, I got it! Fresh Pond Rock! Fresh Pond Rock is a spot on East Beach before Quonny but after Charleston and Ninigret Pond. Named for a fresh water pond off the beach, it has hundreds of rocks that jut out from a sandy beach on both sides. There is a huge current here and I have seen it totally buried so not a rock is showing, to after a big storm, hundreds of big boulders jutting out 300 feet into the surf. It is a natural trap for bait and there is deep water off the tip of the rocks, so Stripers feel secure in their surroundings.
It is about 3:00 AM, 45 degrees and pouring rain. Just one of those nasty early morning that you question your sanity for being where you are. I was fishing a needlefish made by a well know manufacturer of fine plastic lures.
This was probably 90 or 91 so we were just coming out of the moratorium. Limit was 1, Bass, 36” or more. I hadn’t had a bump and was getting discouraged. Figured I had to wait it out as we were an hour from the bottom and false dawn was an hour and change away.
I got out of the water and went up to the big rock that has a natural seat on the back side of it. Head down, hood up and just miserable. Suddenly someone is standing in front of me. This guy has a Fu Manchu mustache and just looks at me and says:
“Well *&&^^, you gonna sit there feeling bad for yourself or are you gonna fish?” I said that I hadn’t had a bump in 2 hours. He grabs my rod and cuts off my needlefish and throws it up on the beach near the snow fence. I’m thinking I am in the presence of a madman.
He hands me a white needlefish with pink on the front and says:
“John Habs is my name and I’m making these needlefish. This is a prototype, and none have hit the market yet”.
So Habs and I get back in the surf and on my second cast I’m one! John hooks up almost at the same time. For the next 2 hours, right through dawn, we are hammering fish, some up to 20 pounds but most in the 12 to 15-pound range.
I had not seen fishing like this since the 70s and certainly not since the moratorium. Finally, the tide was dead low and the rain had let up. The bite magically died as it got light.
John and I talked for quite awhile and he gave me several more needlefish and a couple jointed, metal lip swimmers. I became a lure tester for John and sadly, I lost all the metal lip jointed plugs. I still have several of his prototype needlefish which I will never fish. Habs Sr. needlefish have become extremely collectable because of their fish catching ability. They swim right, they sink at the right rate of descent and they just drive Stripers crazy
John and I became close friends and fished a lot together in the following years. John died in September of 2007 and I still miss him and think of him every time I fish the surf with a Habs Sr. needlefish.