Summer means it's time to hit beach in search of stripers

Saturday, June 24, 2006

Ken Allen

Maine's great outdoors offers so many simple but special moments each year, and one of my favorites occurs in the gray summer dawn. It's such an exhilarating feeling to be on a saltwater beach in the timid light of a new day, casting to stripers, particularly if a little solitude comes with the angling package. By noon, crowds start arriving, but at 4 a.m., an occasional angler, walker or jogger rules the sand.

At places like Popham, stretches of beach give me a glimpse of what Maine must have looked like in 1606 the year before George Popham started a failed settlement at the mouth of the Kennebec River in August 1607. The same species of grasses hug the sand now that must have grown there four centuries ago and offspring of the same gulls and terns wheel overhead. If I look in the right direction, I see just the open ocean and undeveloped islands. This English settler must have looked at the same setting.

After I have arisen at 2 a.m. and driven one hour, 15 minutes to reach Popham, casting into the ever-present waves begins with great hope. This river spills into an ocean that stretches toward Spain and Ireland, so anglers can depend on at least gentle surf curling onto the beach.

When the first fish hits my fly, the initial reaction begins in the same way each time. For a brief second or three, the fly stops, the rod bows and I wonder if my fly has hooked bottom, knowing it's impossible to snag this sandy riverbed but just maybe, a sunken log has washed downstream since my last visit. By the time I reassure myself that the weight indeed comes from a fish, the head shaking and first run have started anyway.

Striper fishing on beaches generally leans toward feast or famine with lots of action or none. Exceptions exist, but that's exactly what they are -- exceptions, not rules.

In the bad old days of the late 1970s, I have traveled to Popham at least two-dozen dawns in the run of a summer without hooking a single striper, but the occasional bluefish blitz or mackerel schools made up for the slow bass times. These days, though, my beach visits account for stripers about 30 percent to 50 percent of the time.

Striper fishing is yet another example of Maine anglers living in the good old days here and now. Commercial fishing in states to the south threatens us, but we have life better now by far than during the late 1970s.

When striper schools don't show up, I do not despair because sooner or later, these migratory fish may come. In short, after three hours of fruitless casting, I may then hook one fish after another for 30 minutes to an hour. At times, though, nothing happens but maybe a swim, sunbathing, and more often than not, a meal at the restaurant near Fort Popham. In short, life could be far worse -- fish or no fish.

One fly-fishing tool comes in handy on beaches -- a stripping basket. I take the time to mention this point because it's important to the pleasure of surf casting with a fly rod. This gadget is as common as dirt in other states, but Mainers have yet to embrace this simple invention.

When anglers strip line back after the cast, the loose coils go into the "basket" on the angler's side where the line can't tangle in floating seaweed or where sand doesn't stick to the slick coating. The basket adds 10 to 15 feet to the cast, which may be just enough to reach a striper school just beyond normal casting range for someone without this aid.

In the interest of saving money, some people buy a dishpan and use an elastic cord with hooks for a waist belt. I did this for years but about 10 summers ago, decided to squander a birthday check on a commercial stripping basket -- an Orvis model for $40. I highly recommend this route because compared to a dishpan, the store-bought product is unbelievably comfortable to wear. When walking along the beach to and from honey holes, I push the basket to my back and often forget it until the time comes to cast again.

The commercial models have a curved side and wide belt, which adds so much comfort compared to a straight-sided dishpan and elastic cord. Also, cone-like fingers stick up from the bottom, which keep the line from tangling during the cast. I wouldn't leave home without the stripping basket for saltwater casting these days but do try to remember to remove it from my back before heading into stores or restaurants, where it might bang into displays or people. It has happenedÉembarrassing.

Fly-fishing and stripers go together as well as any two combinations around, but folks with live bait catch the 40-inch stripers with more regularity, and these guys often work the nightshift when cows and bulls are more active. Spin-casters with artificial lures also do well because excellent surf casters with the right rod can cover far more water than a fly fisher. They can fire a lure practically the length of a football field.

Whatever the tool, though, night, dawn and evening produce the most action. Stripers can and do swarm along beaches at high noon, but low-light conditions prove best for the most consistent excitement.

Naturally, as a general rule fraught with exceptions, trout fishing slows a little now except in the evening, so summer forays to the coast make sense. If you have never bothered with Maine's salt, now is the time to head to the nearest beach or ledges to cast, and one great region for the salty crowd lies immediately south of Portland.

Check out DeLorme's The Maine Atlas and Gazetteer, Map 3, B-4 and take special note of the beach parks within a 2 1/2-inch circle of that coordinate. You can fish most of these spots at dawn, but parking can be a problem. Make calls beforehand to find out where you can and can't leave a vehicle.

Ken Allen, of Belgrade Lakes, is a writer, editor and photographer. E-mail: kallyn800@aol.com