Amityville Horror? - Part 1

Did I mention that the weather doesn't always cooperate with the schedule of the weekend warrior?? I'm certainly not afraid to get out in the cold, but in a kayak, one has to draw the line when the combination is 20-35 degree weather and 15-20+ mph winds. Since I haven't fished since my last post, and since my co-worker Mike has been buggin' me to tell this story, allow me to take you back to early November to a fishing day I'll be talking about for a long time...

WARNING: Women, hide your children...
No, this isn't going to cover any Linda Blair Exorcist-like head spins or demon-possessed homes... What it does chronicle is 3 knuckleheads (this time, in a boat) out in the Atlantic in search of our number 1 quarry; the ever-evasive big Striped bass. Since our adventure starts at Amityville Marina, in yes, the same Amityville, NY that the infamous possessed home story comes from; it's only fitting that we were able to manage our own private horror story. ;))

November 4th, 2013

Mike is a fellow co-worker and weekend warrior kayak fisherman. He was pretty much a straight-up saltwater surf-caster until we started talking about fishing a few years ago. For me, it was all about freshwater fishing until I got the Striper bug. Mike, on the other hand, didn't do much freshwater fishing. There's not a lot of good freshwater fishing spots in shouting distance of his home, so when he got the time to fish, he wanted to go after the "big boys." At some point, another co-worker and good friend of ours, Jim, turned us on to a reservoir a short drive from work. After a few trips there after work on Fridays, Mike was on his way to being a freshwater fisherman. Soon after that, I had him looking at kayaks...

Anyway, the 100 or so miles between our residences (he in NJ and me in CT), doesn't allow Mike and I to fish together much, but we finally had an opportunity. A mutual friend of ours, Brian, had been trying to get us to make a trip to Long Island's south shore for a day of fishing for a couple years. Knowing that Stripers were starting to make their way into the waters near to where he keeps his 32' boat, we finally agreed to set aside a day. November 4th was a clear, sunny day, highs were expected in the low 40's with winds forecast around 9 mph in the Amityville area. Mike, Brian and I met at the marina at 7 am, loaded our gear onto the boat and then jumped into Brian's Durango for a quick run to the local bait and tackle shop. The owners of the shop seemed genuinely excited when we came in and asked "Where's the Stripers?" and they were very accommodating with good information. They told us what to use, how to use it and exactly where we'd find them. I didn't think much about it at the time, but we would be heading out of Fire Island inlet, into the Atlantic and about 5-7 miles east along the south shore. We were told to "hang on" because we were gonna be into some "serious bass!" "The Blues are gone, it's all Stripers out there now!" Needless to say, I left there guardedly optimistic. I've heard that kind of big talk before from bait shops and party boat captains only to be highly disappointed when the predicted heroics don't quite line up with the actual results.

We got to the boat and headed out. As we cruised through the bay, the water was mostly flat with just a bit of a ripple from a light wind. Mike and I started to get all our gear setup while we were cruising out, but once completed, we moved up into the cabin alongside our captain and the three of us chatted while admiring the sights around the bay. Brian's boat is not really built for fishing, but it's a pretty sweet ride and certainly more than capable of getting us out to the fish. What could be better? Nice day, nice boat, good friends, good laughs, and good fishing to come...it was all going perfectly...until....

We came out of the mouth of Fire Island inlet to a bit of an unnerving sight. At the point where the bay met the Atlantic, angry looking swells rolled nastily as far as I could see and the suddenly gusty wind blew small whitecaps off some of the bigger waves.

Brian charged the boat without hesitation right into the waves as I grabbed onto anything I could find. The big 32-footer literally flew off the top of each wave, the twin 250 hp inboards actually coming out of the water sometimes and then crashing down heavily into each successive trough. It only took about a half dozen "launches" before the little door separating the cabin from the bow came swinging open and then smashing closed again breaking the tongue off the latch that is supposed to hold it closed. The door swung back and forth, opened and closed for about 3 or 4 more times before I yelled over to Brian, "Hey is this boat made to be able to withstand this kind of punishment??" I was admittedly a bit worried already...I couldn't imagine it would be too healthy to just pound our way across 5+ miles of open water at this pace, but hey, what do I know? I'm just a kayaker from CT! Brian admitted that he doesn't come out to challenge the ocean much with the family, but he agreed we should probably slow down a bit. So we dropped our speed from about 17 mph down to about 5. If we were gonna make it to our planned fishing destination, this was gonna be a long trip!

As we road up, and down, and up, and down, and up, and down these blue-green beasts that started to look every bit of 5-6 feet tall, I suddenly felt a new kind of worry...in my stomach...

Yep...this was gonna get interesting...

More to come...