While everyone else sleeps

In season you won’t see too many of us striper hard cores kicking back PBR pounders at The Foc’s’le. We need something other than beer ‘cause that makes us sloppy. A cup of black coffee adds an edge, but too much and you’re exiting the water to pee. A healthy pinch of Copenhagen wintergreen longcut gives you the same edge without the bathroom break. Just remember to take it out when you’re at the 7/11 at 0300. Those Yodels will taste a little different than usual.

My ideal is when the perfect tide coincides with last light. I can ease gently into the night by watching the ball drop below the horizon line and light up the sky in a stunning array of orange, hints of scarlet and softer blues and greens. When the wind blows I can taste salt in my mouth. The way I figure it, salty-tasting coffee is one of the most under-appreciated beverages known to man. It might only be upstaged by a quahogger or duck hunter’s boot pulling out of the muck. That black, sulfuric smell fills nostrils and creates an indelible memory that inspires wonder.

But it’s big bass time, and that’s why I’m here. Bass prefer the low-light and night conditions, and cows that are in the rock gardens and in the rips during the day are pushing bait in the salt ponds, cruising along the beach fronts, and popping in the estuaries at night. They’re not far off the bull nosed bars, and they’ll cruise the offshore bars. If you find a parallel offshore bar that connects to a point bar don’t tell a soul. The odds are high that you’ll hook your best fish of the year on it.

Big bass come onto the flats on the flood tides and stay until the water begins to drop. When they’re sucking in silversides or mummichog they make a pop that resembles a kid cracking a line drive single with a wooden bat. If they’re on silversides you’ll see the bait spray out of the water when the bass gets close, and they leave a line that shows their path. Punch out a cast in front and beyond the hot fish and hold on tight. When they hit you’ll know exactly what it’s like to be a mummichog.

If you’re fishing up the moon you can see pretty well. On a cloudless night you’ll swear that there are street lights in the middle of the water adding unparalleled clarity. When you’re fishing down the moon you’ll need a light. But be careful when you turn it on and by all means don’t light up the sky with a camera’s flash. Other night fishermen descend on lights like moths to a flame. And if you want the spot they’re fishing, head to shore and set up a photo shoot. In about 30 minutes time you’ll have their spots all to yourself.

Night fishing is tactile. You’ll need to feel your rod load, you’ll need to feel your line swing in the current, and you’ll need to strip strike the moment you feel any hesitation. If you listen carefully enough you’ll understand the night’s sounds. They’re rhythmic, all flowing together, from the wave curls on a sand bar to the night heron’s squawks. Once you sense the pattern, look for something different. It might be a sudden slap of bass tackling herring, or it could be the smell of fish in the distance. Shuffle when you wade and if you’re in a mucky area use zip ties on your boot foot waders. It’ll keep you feet from pulling out of the boot when you try to extract your dogs from the ooze. Sharpen your hooks constantly and replace your leaders. Even if you’re a great caster you’ll get dull points and frayed tippets when your fly and leader ticks the sand.

There won’t be a lot of competition at night, and if you go regularly, you’ll see your buddies in between tides at the all-night haunts. The Dunkin Donuts just past the blinking red lights near the rotary. The 7-Eleven just before closing time. The parking lot over by the jetty. And along the beach where the saltpond drains past the rock pile and far out into the ocean.