David Churbuck’s Reel-Time FLog

Spring of 08 and I promise to be better about updating this log this year.

I’ve gotten out once, that’s right, just once, so far in 2006 and that was last weekend with Cousin Pete. Took some nice bluefish which I am planning to smoke up this weekend.

It feels bassy right now, but I wouldn’t know. Too busy to go find out and recovering from bike accident makes my casting shoulder ache.

Cotuit, MA
Originally uploaded by dvsjr.

Wasn’t like this over the weekend. Got some clamming in.

A friend asked me what was up with my lack of presence on Reel-Time this summer, my retirement from the weekly FishWire reports, and general silence on matters related to fishing.

In short, I have a new job and its a crazy one, with 12-hour days since I started in early May. While people like to brag about 60-hour work weeks, I have one.

But that doesn’t suck. It’s a great gig, a big challenge, and maybe next summer I can return to the water.

Sea bass thrive (May 7, 2005)

Interesting insight is the sense that Mass. commercials are being penalized by the ASFMC due to being at the northern-most range of migratory species like Sea Bass, squid, etc.

Speaking to two good buddies the past few weeks — both owners of biggish center consoles with offshore capabilities — and the reality of the gas crisis came home. One estimated he was facing $600+ fill ups on his 32′ Regulator, the other said he was doing that last summer and this season is going to be worse. Owners of smaller boats who can trailer them to the local Sunoco may get a bit of a break, it seems there is at least a $0.30 marina premium tacked onto fuel-dock gas, but neither of my friends can easily yank and haul their boats to the gas station.

Wow, makes you think twice about that long haul south of the islands for big fish. Wonder what Larry B will do with the newly repowered Skipjack? Makes the price of tuna climb a bit I would imagine.

Peter Kaminsky writes about the magic moment for any bonefisherman who has stood on the bow of a flat’s skiff and finally sees the bonefish his guide is pointing to  in today’s (Sunday May 1) New York Times:

Went quahogging in the rain this morning with Cousin Pete and youngest, Fisher. Last shot at a special cove before it gets its usual seasonal closure tomorrow, took my peck in less than half-an-hour and will sure miss that spot. Now I have to join the rest of humanity and take my chances in the usual open spots.

Pete went squidding in the morning mist off of Lone Rock and came home with just four. Wish I knew the magic secret for cleaning them. I need to get out there — perhaps tomorrow — to load up on calimari fixings and fluke bait for the summer. Still haven’t wet a line for schoolies — weather’s been a bit punk and I’m slammed getting ready for the first day of a new job on Monday. It’s been a fun but impoverished two years on the beach.

Sandwich Ship Supply in the morning for some new clam knives a new Grunden pullover to replace my favorite lost to who knows where.

Body of fisherman recovered from wreck (April 30, 2005)

Poor guy.

Reel-Time Forums - Herring runs, Bournedale & Wareham

Here’s a pointer to a discussion over at Reel-Time’s forums about the deplorable state of the herring runs in Wareham and Bournedale. Mobs lined up with buckets, out-of-staters driving all night to get their live bait.

And yet the towns still sell the permits and allow the taking of egg-laden females, even if a glance at the number of fish in the runs would convince a pinhead that something is very wrong with the herring stock.

Why oh why does the State DMF fiddle and diddle on this issue and not ban the taking and possession of herring until the stocks return to their pre-1980 levels. Sure, the DMF held hearings last month, but I haven’t heard a word and those hearings were only to limit the daily take to 12 and prohibit the commercial sale.

The issue is the relatively recent practice of penning up live fish in either big tanks or baskets hung off of moorings. The meat guys can’t resist, especially since they can’t find live menhaden to taken their place, and hi-ho-hi-ho, it’s off to the run they go, determined to get every last fish they are entitled to for their personal bait aquariums.

Knock, knock — meat fishermen, WAKE THE F UP! No one cares how many big fish you catch, no one cares about your commercial license, no one cares if you know the secret spots for big fish fished with live herring. Get over it!

1. Ban the possession of herring.
2. Stop commercial striper fishing.
3. Return the limit to one fish at 36″
4. Institute a saltwater license.
5. Open up public access to the waterfront.
6. Pass some serious nitrogen limits for new development in watersheds.

That’s my agenda and I’m sticking to it. We need to get over our quaint memories of the way things used to be, when grandpa caught a bucket of herring so granny could fry up some roe in butter and the rest could get planted in the tomato plants. Commercial striper fishing is not a way of life, it’s a shame. Two fish per day is ridiculous — we were doing fine at one at 36″ when a keeper was a keeper. The biggest danger we all face is losing rights of way to water. As waterfront property values rise, expect this problem to grow. Who cares about the health of the fish stocks if you can’t get to the beach to fish for them? And finally, nitrogen has nuked our bays, killed off the eel-grass, and made our harbors safe only for spider crabs. End waterside development or tie the damn McMansions to town sewers or denitrification systems.

End of rant. I am ticked off after reading that thread!

Boats have been working the shore off of Osterville and Cotuit for a few days now. Sadly, one of them capsized and killed its only crew member yesterday out at Wreck Shoal.

That’s sad. Good news is squid and where there are squid the bluefish and bass are right behind. I may go out and jig me up some calamari later today and pack along a Ballistic Missile for a few casts over the shallows in front of Dead Neck to see if the choppers are back. Smoker is ready to go! Bought a vacuum sealer last week to put away a summer’s supply of bluefish pate and smoked filets early.

After nearly 15 years of online fishing forum participation here at Reel-Time and on USENET, I feel eminently qualified to weigh in on those magic topics that are guaranteed to ignite a flame war and bring out the tin-foil-turban element in any online fishing community.

Get someone going on the ethics of catch and release, and the conversation is always bound to end badly. For some reason that firefight has died down in popularity, to be replaced with the ever-emotional debate about gamefish status for striped bass.

Gamefish status would protect stripers from being caught commercially. It could also protect them from being kept by recreational fishermen for food — essentially the fish would be left alone for sporting purposes.

Commercial striper fishing in Massachusetts is limited to hook-and-line fishing — no trawlers, no nets, no hand grenades. The powers that be designate a certain number of pounds to be allotted to the commercial fishermen, open the season some time in the summer, and close it when the quota has been filled. Little old ladies who can’t heft an 11-foot surf casting rod over the rocks of the Cape Cod Canal are then able to buy the fish in their local fish markets and cook up a dinner or two.

The pro-commercial crowd points out that recreational striper fishermen take WAY more fish, kill lots in the process of catching and releasing them, and that the commercial fishery is a traditional way of life that shouldn’t be banned. So was market-gunning for ducks.

My point of view — fishery statistics be damned — is to stop commercial fishing for striped bass. The food needs of the public can be satisfied through aquaculture and I don’t buy the argument that aquaculture impacts menhaden stocks due to the composition of fish food.

I think the recreational limit needs to return to 36" and be limited to one fish per day. I also support a saltwater license so the recreational lobby can be counted — Mitt Romney’s sticky little fingers not withstanding (he has a penchant for raiding the fish and wildlife funds filled through the sale of freshwater fishing licenses.) I also support a ban — ala Connecticut — on the use of herring as bait, a moritorium on eels, and a ban on factory fishing for menhaden.

A certain pedagogue who was banned from Reel-Time for pedantically and emotionally attacking anyone who dared opposed his Freedom to Fish agenda, has resurfaced elsewhere, spouting the same tedious statistics and conspiracy theories. Recreational fishermen with any commonsense need to band together under the umbrella of a license and demand reform in the management of their fisheries, management that is now dominated by the commercial interests that have a financial stake in the discussion. Time to let common sense reign and return to the conservation ethic that restored the striped bass in the 1980s and could, if applied forcefully, stave off a certain collapse in our inshore fisheries.

Climbing down from the soapbox ….

Scientists from around the world gathered in Woods Hole last week to try to figure out the latest marine horror — the sea squirt.

See the Cape Cod Times for the news.

Add this blob of the deep to the other invasive species rolling through our waters — Deadman’s Fingers, green crabs …

I haven’t wet a line in search of a striped bass yet this season, figuring I’d wait for a sure thing before tiring my arm out with casting practice. There are some reports of so-called "fresh fish" coming in from Cotuit Bay, but the season has yet to begin in my mind and I’d rather focus on the ponds for stocked trout and the coves for quahogs than waste my time catching little stripers.

Last week, when the weather was summer-like, I tried Collier’s Ledge for tautog with no success — there were six seals bobbing in the water watching my every move and then the Centerville River for winter flounder. One fish was all my friend Bob and I were able to dredge up before the flowing mung discouraged us and we powered back to Cotuit into the teeth of a stiff southwest breeze.

Two days later I tried casting into a rough breeze at Shubael’s Pond. The PowerBaiters were catching trout, but I was not.

Quick tip learned from an old timer on preserving clam rakes — paint the tang and stainless with a few coats of boiled linseed oil. Same goes for the wire peck basket. I will try it later today as I tackle the spring clean-up of my shop.

This is the weird pre-season when I generally flog the water in search of micro stripers that don’t really exist until the end of the month. Knowing not to waste my time with the fly rod, I use the end of April to clam like crazy, hitting the spots that get closed by the Barnstable Department of Natural Resources on May 1. Call it the Townie’s Perogative, but he who gets on the water early, gets the clams.

Having launched on Saturday and clammed that same day, I took stock of my tired, rusty clamming equipment and decided to borrow my step-father’s stainless rake. What a revelation! Nice rake, cut through the mud nicely. So I went in search of a similar one, ran a Google search on Cape Cod Clam Rakes and found R.A. Ribb in Harwich. I called Ribb and they had an 11-tooth, stainless rec rake with a 6` ash handle. Off I went, down Route 6 to exit 11, banged a left and took the second right. At the end of the cul de sac was a quaint old Cape house with a weathered sign that read "Ribb."

In the shed behind the house was a machine shop filled with huge metal working machinery. Inside the door was my rake. A quick credit card transaction for $87 later, and I was going home with a sweet implement of clam death.

I launched this morning on the high tide, mooring and dinghy stacked inside the boat so I could get everything into the water at once.

The dependable Honda fired right up, stalled a couple times, but with a few flicks of the choke switch, settled down and ran just fine. Tossed the mooring in close to the beach, tied off the dinghy, did an open throttle lap of the bay, and brought it back in.

Two hours later, as low tide approached and I gathered the new clam license, rakes, waders and baskets, organized a party of would be spring cleaners and yard workers (it took very little convincing to get them to postpone their jobs) and off we went to Sampson’s Island for the first clamming expedition of the spring.

Since I was the only person with a set of waders, I worked the deep water up inside of Cupid’s Cove for big clams to make a chowder and stuffed quahogs with while the rest of the crew worked the shallow water in the throat of the cove for cherrystones.

Thirty minutes and we hit our limit, basked in the glorious spring sun for a little while and came back to the reality of cleaning garages and dethatching the lawn.

Here’s my stuffed quahog recipe:

Two doz. quahogs as big as your fist (makes 48 clams)
Two bags of Pepperidge Farm stuffing mix — seasoned is fine
Two green peppers
Two big yellow onions
three celery stalks
One linguica
4 garlic cloves

I steam the ‘hogs in a quarter inch of water. That releases their juice. Save the juice!
Leave the lid on until they gape open, then clean them out with a paring knife, tossing all the meat into a cuisinart fitted with the chopping blade. Couple pulses until they are chopped (not pulverized)
Take out the clams put in a mixing bowl.
Put the onions, celery and the peppers in the cuisinart and chop fine.
Put the vegetables in the bowl with the clams, add the stuffing mix, and the clam juice
Mix it all up.
Fill the clam shells then bake at 400 for 30 minutes until they are browned on top.
Serve with hot sauce and lemon. Drink beer and eat.

Shellfishermen fight to work in Monomoy (April 6, 2005)

Bixbyupdate032405

ORV permit sale opens smoothly (March 31, 2005)

I dug the leaves out of the Tashmoo yesterday, tied down the battery cover, pumped up the trailer’s tires, and dragged it all over to The Boat Guy in Bourne for the spring engine re-commissioning, a new Teleflex and throttle/shifter. Along with the first Claritin for the spring hayfever, boat prep is the surest sign that better things are on the horizon.

I’ll stake out my spot for the dinghy this weekend, call Peck’s to have the mooring dropped, and then go through the annual bureaucratic hell known as the Barnstable Mooring Permit renewal. A trip to the marine supply store for some bottom-paint, an afternoon under the trailer (and this is the year I fix the trailer lights and repack the bearings!) All of this, should, in theory, have me motoring around Greater Cotuit Bay within two or three weeks.