Albie darned, fly fishing for false albacore off Cape Cod is hard.
Yeah, that’s exactly what I learned on my first try at targeting false albacore (aka albie) with a fly rod in late September in the waters off Harwich Port, Mass. A Cape Cod Slam of an albie, a striped bass (striper), and a bluefish wasn’t to be for me–this time.
My guide, Patrick Cassidy of Cape Cod on the Fly, told me that chasing albies has been the cause of more than one divorce or taking to drink. After two half-days in his 20-foot boat, I can understand why.
First, it’s difficult to find them in the vast waters off the Cape. It’s a bit like striper fishing where you scan the horizon for seabirds working bait or watch for boils of bait breaking the surface. Actually, it’s a game of whac-a-mole for these small “tuna.”
Each sighting leads to a breathless run for the nervous water, trying to position the boat and angler in just the right spot to intercept the school of albie–not too far away for the angler to cast to and not too close to put the fish down.
Once in position, it’s up to the angler to get his fly into the school of moving fish. Tough enough for the freshwater angler, but you may also have an unhelpful sea state and wind to contend with. Plus, like a ghost, they can disappear in an instant.
I remember thinking: “Where did they go? They were just here…”
Assuming you’re able to get your fly well-placed into an albie school, you then have to get the fish to eat it. Your chances of a hook-up are elevated if you can tuck that 8-weight fly rod under your arm and strip quickly with a hand-over-hand retrieve.
As if that isn’t challenging enough, once you hook one expect a furious fight.
We’re talking about clearing your line and getting these bad boys on a reel set with a heavy drag. Next comes long, blitzing runs and taking your reel–zzzzzzing–well into its backing. You’re not likely to land one of these fish very quickly.
Of course, that’s what I understand–from a theoretical point of view, at least.
Fortunately, the stripers and blues were willing to play. We targeted stripers on the rips (i.e., shoals/sand bars) with a sinking line and right off the beach in the surf where they were chasing bait, with an intermediate line.
At times, I’d cast right up onto the beach–careful not to hook any of the sunning seals that populate the Cape–and strip the fly back down the sand and into the surf where the line would often become taught with a striper grab.
I landed several nice stripers, including a 30-incher.
The blues were mostly active in the rips. Bluefish often co-mingle with stripers and a take can often be one or the other. If you bring back a line without a fly, it usually means that a toothy blue has severed your 20-lb. tippet.
My best bluefish was a 27-incher, weighing about 7-lbs.
Yes, I was disappointed that I couldn’t seal the deal on the Cape Cod Slam, but at least I know what I’m up against with albies. For some reason, I thought it would be similar to striper fishing where you find a bait boil, throw in a fly and–tahdah!–a hook-up.
It’s not that at all–at least off Cape Cod in the fall.
But that’s OK, the Cape is a beautiful and fascinating place in the fall. The crowds are gone and the air is crisp. It was also great to catch up on the latest news on the great white shark population that inhabits the waters off the Cape with Capt. Patrick.
It’s believed that the waters off Cape Cod currently hold one of the greatest concentrations of great whites in the world today. Lots of theories out there, but one suggests that the large number of seals (a favorite great white snack) is a reason.
Like Patrick said: “Don’t forget Rule No. 1, stay in the boat!” Roger that, Skipper.
But while I won’t be getting in the water with the great whites (or other sharks) off the Cape anytime soon, I do plan to come back and put my fly into those shark-filled waters in pursuit of those darned albies.
Dr. Peter Brookes is an award-winning outdoor writer based in Virginia. When not wetting a line somewhere, he can be reached at BrookesOutdoors@aol.com.
