The "Candle" blitz of '97 didn't come as a surprise to those of us who knew what to expect of Montauk's late fall surf. We began to prepare as soon as the pressure dropped, and the first Nor'Easter of the season began to hammer the coast with 50 mph winds and 8 ft tides. For three days the bluffs were pounded by the relentless surf. The sea would reclaimed miles of Montauk's best beaches, and deposited them 100 yds. offshore onto a newly formed sandbar. As determined as we were, we would drive down to the Point each day to see how far along the storm was progressing. Along with the storm tides, huge schools of Bunker would be forced onto the beach, as they have for time immemorial. Following the bait would be huge stripers. We were ready.
The passing gale had Dennis,Joe and myself down on the beach at first
light. The tail end of the storm was being sucked northward, towards New
England. As the sky brightened, we could see that the surf was a solid wall
of whitewater. We grabbed our gear and headed for the rocks.
There are no comparisons for the thrills to be had under the Light. As opposite to beach fishing as night and day, the jetty at the Montauk Lighthouse is a world unto itself. This man-made breakwater extends from the northern Sound cove of Montauk Point, around the bluff on which the lighthouse stands and ends fully 200 yds. past the southern corner of the Point, at the beginning of Turtle Cove on the Atlantic. The jetty stands fully 15 ft. from the water level to the upper walkway. Constructed of granite boulders fitted together like a huge jigsaw puzzle, the jetty was built to shield the lighthouse and station from the sea. There is a 6ft. high chain linked fence which surrounds the rear of the walkway, with the purpose of keeping tourists off the terracing in front of the lighthouse.
The Front area can be extremely calm and even secluded, as it is in the
small hours of the morning on a warm summer's night. In the fall however,
the Point becomes wild and unpredictable during those notorious Nor'Easters.
There are fish to be had during either extreme. I have caught all manner
of species in that surf. From Blacks to Weaks, From Bass to Blue, I have
even managed to land False Albacore and Fluke under the Light. In the summer
of '97 a 50 lb. Tarpon dragged onto the beach. Some of the greatest battles
in Montauk have occurred there, with Stripers into the 50 lb. class being
most frequent during those cold fall nights and big storm tides. 
The Point is the most productive on a strong incoming tide. It is not rare to see an acre of Stripers humping in the swells of a November morning, as they corner a school of Herring among the rocks. Times like these the sky and surf are alive with a cacophony of sound as Gulls and Gannets parry for position. Into this madness you will find 20 to 30 brave (foolhardy?) souls, casting in unison into the fray.
It is rare, indeed to be alone during these blitz conditions, though not impossible. I have spent many a solo morning up front, tackling one big fish after another, hoping for one of my buddies to turn the corner. At times like this I am always ready with a good natured,"Where have you been!"
As I walked towards the Point I noticed another fishing pal "Up Front", casting from the top of the jetty, fully 15 ft. above the raging tide. The jetty was being pummeled by a 25 to 35 mph gale. Huge waves were breaking and rolling onto the reef from 100 yds out, sweeping the rocks with mountains of foam. Every so often a great surge would crash into the jetty, throwing up a huge volume of water and spray. Out of this scene trots Eric, his rod bent and securely fastened to a fish.
"Watch out for the surf!"he cries, as he passes me. "The waves are breaching the top of the rocks!"
It is rare that a man can stand at the bottom of this jetty to fish. The sea must be exceptionally calm for that. Generally, a caster must stand, perched somewhere in the middle of the rock face at some precarious niche. Today, however, this was not to be. All fishing was to be done from the top of the walkway.
The sea was throwing spray from the breakers with great force. The water was drenching as it was tossed in my direction. As I reached my favorite spot I cast out into the surf with a 2 oz bucktail. I had to keep one eye on the surf and one on Eric. I watched him land a Bass in the lee cove. The dawn grew brighter and with it came flocks of gannets. They hammered the ocean like Kamikaze dive bombers. Every so often a large bunker could be seen flying off, impaled on a spear-like beak.
Eric had returned, after landing his fish.
As he walked to me he smiled.
"There are fish all over! I just released a30 pounder, what a fight! Watch out for the waves though, I almost got swept into the drink by a hugh wave. Knocked me on my butt..."
As I casted I could see the rest of the boys coming up the walkway. By the quickness in their stride, I could tell they also had seen Eric land a fish. Joe and Dennis stood to either side of me and began to cast.
"Boy, does it look fishy, or what!", Joe remarked.
The excitement was infectious. We all witness Eric instantly hook another fish!
"Don't drop 'em!" I yelled, good naturedly.
Next to me Dennis starts to howl like a wounded bull,"Mmoooo..!"
Eric is dragged off again, down the jetty.
I start to sing the theme song from Rawhide... "Rollin', rollin', rollin... Keep those doggies rollin...'"
Some fanatics have been known to arrive
at the Point in the dead of the night and curl up on a favorite rock for
several hours, so not to let a prized position on the jetty escape them.
Others may arrive late and line up behind, waiting for a spot to be vacated.
Either way, the reward is astounding. Just to witness a Cow Bass taken "Under
the Light" is an experience.
This place is not for the novice. The men that ply these waters take their fishing very seriously. It takes a healthy man with the footing of a billygoat to scamper along the face of the Lighthouse breakwater. Those who do are invariably, well equipped. Full wet suits and waders with spiked soles (Korkers) are the norm. A good waterproof slicker or a Dricore top, cinched with a tight waistbelt are also recommended. The waves are known to reach out and grab the hapless caster who's attention may lag for a moment or two. This is the wrong place to go for a swim!
Medium-heavy surf rods of 10 ft. or better will do nicely when casting into a 15 knot headwind. Van Staals and Penn 850 spinning reels strung with 20 lb. mono are often put to the test. The most common lure used under the light is the bucktail. I have seen more cows taken on a 1 1/2 oz. Smiling Bill than any other jig. A pork rind or curly tail is well suited to this area. A darter or a bottle plug may also be quite effective in the dark, or on a stormy sea. Yellow seems to work the best under these conditions. Bait fishing under the light is a forbidden sin. Because the fast rip that swings in front of the jetty, the use of bait would cause the majority of casters (who are using jigs and plugs in the same area) to foul the baitcaster. Flaring tempers ensue. There is a grass roots effort at this time to ban baitcasting at the Point.
It is important to follow the lead of the
others who are there fishing. Quarters may become so close during a run
that the guys are lined up elbow to elbow. Everyone must cast the same jig
(or plug) at the same time uptide, as to not cause that dreaded fish loosing
tangle of crossed lines. Some liken this to Head Boat fishing, and shy away.
Others thrive on it.
We all fish as a team effort when the fish are in. It is our collective goal that every fish hooked in these waters should be landed. Especially the monsters! Comradeship at these moments is astounding. Each of us either retrieves our line to keep a clear path for a hooked fish, or lets the man with the rod carry his line up and overhead.
I have seen fellahs jump into the heave to land a fish that swims into the base of the jetty. Most often though, after spooling off line, the larger fish will drag both itself and the caster down tide. There is no way you can beach a big cow bass safely under "The Light" during a heavy swell. Many a keeper has been lost trying to do just this. It is best to let the fish run. The fish will run itself out. If luck will have it, the angler will not fall or let his line to go slack.
The majority of the larger bass, when hooked, drag themselves north to
the rocky cove under the bluffs. Landing the fish at this point can also
be a challenge. The surf here is full of tide pools and boulders. This is
when terminal tackle shows all it's weaknesses. To get this far and loose
the fish is a heartbreaker. Many of us use 3 ft. long leaders of 50 lb.
test or better, this gives you something to grab on to.
As Joe and I turn to watch Eric moving down the rocks, we are hammered by the hand of god. We have been nailed by a freak wave. It is as though we were hit by some great wet freight train. Joe and I are thrown head over heels into the fence, a full twenty feet behind us. We are bound together, tangled by our accumulated gear. It takes several moments to recover from having the wind knocked out of us. In the tumult, Joe has lost his surfbag and lures.
True surfcasting enthusiasts that we are, we pick ourselves up and continue casting. Joe forgets about his pain and lures as his rod bends in half. Joe is dragged down the jetty by another big fish, this being his first cast after the train wreck!
The jetty is filling with excited fishermen as one after another, bass are landed and beached. The majority of these fish have been released into the tumult to fight another day. There are, however, at least 10 serious cows laying on the top of the jetty. I make a cast and feel the telltale strike of a monster. As I set the hook, the rod is yanked before me as if it is attached to Namoo the whale! The drag on my reel zips as I too am forced to follow my fish down the jetty to the beach. There must be 20 casters between me and the beach. Everyone of them makes room for me by reeling in lines, or ducking so I can lift my line over their heads. My "pals" spur me on with their invisible barbs and sarcastic comments.
As I approach the base of the jetty I am forced into the shallows at
the waters edge. I am glad
I have worn
my Korkers in these pummeling waves. As the fish comes closer I know I have
a slob. The weight of the fish keeps it underwater till the last moment.
As I hold my rod under my arm I grab the leader. I reach down and slip my
free hand into the fish's gills. The fish is mine! All 34lbs. of her! As
I carry my catch up the jetty to my perch, I am congratulated by everyone.
Joe stops me and takes a picture, for posterity.
I had four more slammers that morning which were released. On the way into town, the CB informs us that someone has found Joe's tackle bag a quarter mile down the beach. We all meet at our favorite dinner to have a well deserved breakfast. We would sit and chat about our luck for an hour, then off to the alternate realities of everyday life. We will dream of the next tide.