The Striper That Got Away...Sort of

By Thomas McCallum

It was a Sunday afternoon in late October, my friends Misha and Joe and myself were finishing up a 4 hour excursion on my 17' Montauk. We had fished the inside banks, the inlet (our rips), we trolled the beach and then did the whole process in reverse on the way back in. For four hours we saw nothing.....no birds, no bait, no sign of life so like most crazed fishermen we decided to call it day. I slowly putted into my basin discouraged and humbled, my fishing buddies physically drained from hundreds of casts and some not so friendly seas. Now, with the dock in view the fishless day had come to an end. Being the eternal optimist I never give up until the boat has been secured in the slip and the tilt is in place. On the other hand we still had 30 yards to my dock and as we all know "it's not over till the fat lady signs". About 125 yards off my dock is a small (20 acre) island that was created by dredging the basin about 30 years ago. This island is a barrier from the big channel and at high tide often holds good size bass. We had fished it earlier in the day when there was water, but now the island mud was visible and what water was there was flat.....protected from the wind by the island. As I began to turn dockward I saw something from the corner of my eye......over by the island. I stayed focused on the spot and.........splash! A FISH! Baitfish scrambling everywhere, I quickly turned and headed toward the grassy island. As I crept into the area where I saw the break Misha and Joe awakened, both having seen the commotion, both knowing that bragging rights were still a possibility. The three of us were armed with poppers. I had a large, blue/silver Chugbug attached to a 6 1/2ft Fenwick (fiberglass) and Shimano Symetre 4000 and 10 lb. Stern. Misha had a white bug and Joe had purple You-sure. I manned the starboard middle while Joe took the bow and Misha was at the port stern. I threw at the island only 15 yards away, landing just shy of the grass (this was exactly where the last attack on the baitfish occurred). As the lure made impact with the flat water I gave it a quick pop.....then another........and SWIRL! A HUGE SWIRL! I began to twitch the popper with very short, fast snaps but nothing was happening. The boys saw the swirl, it was deep and it was wide, it actually sucked the popper into a small vortex, obviously created by something very powerful. Nobody said a word. All that could be heard was the rattle of the Chugbug and silence. My retrieve ended.......empty. The tide was taking us out of the spot so I fired up the motor, made and arcing UP-turn and headed back to the same spot. Misha was the first one in. One pop and SWIRL.....SPLASH.....and then nothing. Then he's up on Joe......multiple swirls.....huge swirls, even coming up in front of the popper, then.........silence again. I fired up the motor again and headed for another pass. I approached the area a little to fast this time and got to close to the island, my mates gave me some grief about lack of water between us and the island. I underhand the bug to the grass about 10 yards away, before I had a chance to pop a massive mouth emerged from the shallows. He is on top and coming right at the boat, I could see the lure jammed in the side of his mammoth mouth as he charged toward us. All I could do was get the tip down and wait for slack to become taught............IT DID...as he made his way under the boat! The line made it under the boat too, missing the motor, the prop and the bottom. The huge striper headed for deeper water which was just a few yards away. As he got over the ledge and headed down the face of the channel wall he picked up momentum. There was nothing to do but watch and listen. I had a good 160 yards of line, and a motor, so I wasn't totally concerned except for one thing, I didn't know how big he actually was! By now the boat has been turned around and pulled off the flat from the 7 or 8 lbs. of pressure on the spool. I wasn't about to tighten the drag! The large bass was anchored to the bottom of the 20 ft.deep channel and wasn't moving E,W,N or S. After a stalemate of 10 minutes or so, he began to move, ever so slowly he pulled us across the basin, still no sight of him. We all waited anxiously for the first glimpse of "BUBBA". I began to work him a little, lifting slightly, then letting off. He responded with a 20 yard burst to the south. No sooner had he stopped when he began his descent. As the line rose from vertical to almost horizontal I knew I'd get a look at him. As he lay on the surface I literally reeled the boat to him. As we approached he got bigger and bigger and bigger. I had never seen a live bass this big, let alone at the end of my 20 year old lucky Fenwick. We were 10 ft away from him when we realized he would never fit in the net, we had no gaff. Numbers were flying......he's 44"! No way 48"! He's over 50"! Misha had the net as I worked the boat closer and closer. We figured we could get his head in the net and grab the tail. He was laying on his massive side............he had lost, I had won. As I worked him towards the 1/2 submerged net along side the boat Bubba turned 90 degrees. Knowing full well he was out of gas, I began to turn him back..........never, ever do this! The line snapped! Bubba is just lying there, 5 ft. from the boat......out of reach. My first instinct was to go in after him. My second was to look for that fat lady. I really wanted to get that lure out of Bubba's mouth. I hope he's OK!