The Blitz

By Paul Melnyk

What is Montauk like in the middle of a big fish blitz? I get this question all the time. My first response is usually, "Man, you gotta see it to believe it!"

I have had some of the best times in the Montauk surf, fishin' with my buddies for those big slammers. When they are in, man, are they in! I have seen days that a fella could land over 100 bass, following them down tide for four hours or more....

The biggest problem in fishing a big bass blitz is keeping out of everyone's way. Guys run rip shaw down the beach in their buggies, each trying to get ahead of the fish, which in general, spend only about five minutes over any piece of real estate. It is a rare occurrence when you can have the fish to yourself during the daytime hours.

September and October are the best months to "hook up" to blitz conditions in Montauk. The prevalence of larger baits, such as mullet, herring and bunker are the keys to this equation. A good stiff off shore (wind in your face) breeze is another requirement to get the bait fish into the surf. In Montauk, a good Northwest wind, after some weather in October is a good omen for big fish around the north side of the lighthouse. I wait all year for these conditions...

I always hope for a group of good fishermen to be around during these blitzes. There is nothing worse than being surrounded by a bunch of amateurs to spoil an otherwise beautiful blitz. this brings me to an example of how messed up a good blitz can get.... even under the best conditions...

So there I am, standing in the water during a sunrise blitz on the False Bar, just west of the get on at the point. The wind is Nor west, the surf is rolling in at about three to five feet. I have found the fish. Big fish. I can see their tails in the twilight, as the bait breaks water in front of me. No birds are around. At first light and the crew on Murderer's row are all in their buggies. They are oblivious! It is cold, which is one of the main reasons that the pack has not ventured beyond their truck cabs and heaters.

But I see 'em! I see the splash of a tail in the outer swell, and I push myself out on the bar until I am waist deep. Every fifth wave goes over my head. I toss a 2 ounce bucktail into the school, just working it off the bottom. It is not long before I hook a nice one and I try to keep my pole straight out in front of me. I don't want to let the Googs in the buggies know that I am in. Damn if it isn't a nice striper of twenty pounds or so. I don't take the fish out of the water, 'cause I don't need any company right now. There are at least three dozen sleepy old men keeping one eye closed, and one eye on me. Another cast has me moving this time. It is a bigger fish. As I fight the fish, I can hear the scramble of car doors and running feet behind me. The jig is up!

I am landing one bass after another. It is not long until I find the water getting crowded with the bodies of other casters, desperately inching for a primo spot on my bar. Before I know it, there are 30 guys mugging me. Everyone is wet, but who cares, 'cause the fish are decent and plentiful. We all are into them!

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a yellow slicker moving in dangerously close to my left. Oh well, I've fished in tighter quarters. From my left I feel-hear a rip! There is a soft brushing past my ear as bucktail goes flying by! What the heck! The guy in the yellow raincoat has stepped into the surf next to me and sent a bullet past my ear!

OK. I move a bit to the right. Not too much, mind you. After all, this is MY SPOT.

FLIP-ZING! What the hell... The fool has just grazed my noodle with another errant cast! That's it. I'm gonna give this guy a piece of my mind!

"What the hell is wrong with you buddy!" I shout at the dope. "What are you, a Freekin' MORON!", I shout as I turn to this knucklehead.

As I stare at this guy, I see a vacant look on his face.

"Yeah... Yes he is most definitely a Moron!" says the old man standing beside my tormentor. "He's been that way as long as I can remember, and I should know, 'cause I'm his father!"

It is then that I realize that if I put my open hand on this guy's nose, I would still see both eyes staring back at me with that sad mongoloid blankness. This guy is indeed a happy idiot. A Down's syndrome idiot!

Now I feel like a jerk. This poor shlub is obviously doin' the best he can and except for the two near misses to my noggin... that ain't half bad! All that is left is to say I'm sorry... and I do. But you know... I don't even think the guy knew I was there....

With his single minded consistency, this guy continues to cast away... only to hook a cow and land it at my feet!

If you can't take it, forsake it. I realize that indeed, there are more fish then this batch in the ocean It is more than I can take and I slink off, with my tail between my legs, for a cup of coffee and an egg sandwich...