Ultimate Kayak Fishing: Jamaica Bay 2007 - Ultimate Kayak Fishing

A tree may grow in Brooklyn, but Jamaica Bay grows the big Weakfish. As a matter of fact, not only are the big Weakies in, it is currently holding Winter Flounder, Fluke, Bluefish, and Striped Bass. All due in part to the fact that this south facing estuary warms faster than the surround deeper waters of the Atlantic. With its many channel cutting through beautiful marshes, this magnificent aqua filter makes up some of the most fertile spawning ground that can be found for the Tiderunners. Combine this with big bunker, sand and grass shrimp, and fresh squid and you have the makings of a dining table set for a feast.

Jamaica Bay is located on the southwestern tip of Long Island in the boroughs of Brooklyn and Queens, New York City and the town of Hempstead, Nassau County. The bay connects with Lower New York Bay to the west through Rockaway Inlet and is the westernmost of the coastal lagoons on the south shore of Long Island. Breezy Point is the western tip of the Rockaway barrier beach to the south of Jamaica Bay and Rockaway Inlet.

This years Jamaica Bay Kayak Fishing Tournament began on Thursday May 3rd with Robert (Hatchet) meeting me at my home in Haddam. We loaded the gear and yaks and were on the road shortly after lunch. The drive into the city was easy as traffic was not heavy at all. We arrived at Jamaica Bay about 3:30 in the afternoon. After setting up camp, we walked around, and watched Joey supervise the setup of the Honey Buckets. We then headed over to see the Concord Airliner and checkout the newly remodel hanger that they had turned into a recreation center with two ice rinks, a gym, rock climbing, food court and more. By this time we were starving, so we headed up Flatbush Avenue for something to eat at the Florididian Dinner. What a meal, first, it began with three different salads; chickpea, beet, and coleslaw along with bread, then came the soup and salad, our meals, and finally desert. After that, Robert rolled me out the door and back into the car. Back at camp, we quickly began meeting new people from Virginia (TEKF), Pennsylvania (The Wolf Pack), and Canada and swapping stories.


Friday morning came and Robert and headed out for fishing action. Going back to last years honey hole to try to raise some Weaks. Work the eastern channel of Big Channel and Old Shoal Marsh, I quickly hooked up with two Bass and Robert a Bass and a Blue, but no Weakfish and after paddling 7.8 miles, we decided to return to camp for lunch. Tim arrived after lunch and we help him setup. Then Kevin (Special K) and Roland (Hobie Wan) showed up, along with the boys from NEFK, Mark, Joe, Roger, etc...)



Robert with one on

Saturday morning Tim and Robert head south check out a deep hole that was hold bunker under the Cross Bay Bridge along the Rockaway Beach, while I headed toward Ruffle Bar. 150 yards of the launch, I was slammed by a 31’ Bluefish, after landing him I proceed towards the bar. About 4 yards off the bar I encountered Blues swirling and stopped, anchored, and tossed plugs to them for about 20 minutes, until the armada that was sitting northwest of the bar in Big Fish Kill Channel started to move towards me and proceeded to troll through the blues scattering them. I moved on up around the island and towards the marshes as I wanted to check out Pumpkin Patch Marsh, as I had heard the upper reaches of Big Fish Kill Channel were holding big Weaks. I paddle through the Stong Creek Marsh checking out all the nesting birds, an Osprey, the turtles, and mussels. Crossing Pumpkin Patch Channel, I proceed into Duck Point Marsh and on to Canarare Pol. Paddling through the tiny marsh tidal creeks was amazing. After a brief rest, I continued west back to the upper reaches of Big Channel and turned south to work the transitions and shoals all the way back to the launch site. All and all I paddled another 17.3 miles, landed 3 nice Bluefish to 31’ and 17 Stripers to 33’, but still no Weakies. Dinner this nigh would hold the Captains Meeting, a great BBQ by the BBQ-Brothern, of Pulled Pork, Chicken, Potato Salad, and Corn on the Cob. Bedtime came early this nigh as the tournament was to begin Sunday morning at 06:00 AM.

Then the hurricane hit about 01:00 AM, with winds 25-30 mph and gust up to 55 mph. Tents were blowing down, one of the BBQ-Brothern slipped and fell and dislocated his shoulder, making it a tuff night to sleep. Morning came and the winds were still blowing. Now let me tell you, Jamaica Bay may not look very big on a map, but once you arrive and look out across the water you soon realize that it is much bigger that it looked on paper. Now add a big blow and J-Bay gets really big fast. The start to the Tournament was held off until 09:00 AM, due to Small Craft Advisories, and then called due to the dangerous conditions.

With tears in our eyes, Robert and I headed to Coney Island for Chili Dogs, and then headed home. Though the Tournament was called, we still managed to get in two good days of fishing and any day on the Salt is better than even the best day at the office.

The following is a reprint of an article published in the New York Time on Monday 7 May 2007.

The Fishing Is Canceled, but Kayakers Are Buoyant


Ozier Muhammad/The New York Times
Prizes were raffled off Sunday after the Jamaica Bay Kayak Fishing Tournament was canceled.


By DARYL KHAN
Published: May 7, 2007

Kayak fishing is a sport still obscure enough that just about anyone who shows up for a tournament quickly finds that there are no strangers.

Yet it is also a sport that can inspire someone like Richard Court to drive the 560 miles from Toronto to Floyd Bennett Field in Brooklyn for the fourth annual Jamaica Bay Kayak Fishing Tournament, which raises money for women who have breast cancer.

Mr. Court and other fishermen will convey the thrill of whispering over the water, without motors or heavy oars, and of the particularly scrappy blue fish or striper that can drag you and your slip of a boat on a “Nantucket sleigh ride.”

Then, of course, there is the Manhattan skyline on the horizon as the fishermen haul their kayaks down a jagged concrete ramp past the husks of derelict boats with names fading into a ghostly blur and a beach littered with everything from a tire and beer bottles to a designer Italian pump.

“Where else in New York City can you go to camp for three days and fish for three days,” asked Carl Schneider, 37, an electrician from Farmingdale, N.Y. “This isn’t about the tournament. It’s more about camaraderie. That’s why I’m here. I’m not here to win.”

That turned out to be fortunate, because the cold 25-knot winds that blew in yesterday morning forced the cancellation of the tournament.

Yet many of the 200 or so contestants who had paid a $75 entry fee and had camped along a patch of weeds at the edge of a large parking lot did not seem to mind; they had already been fishing, some as early as Thursday.

“Just to be among the guys who do the same thing that I do, you know?” said Mr. Court, 62. “No hard feelings at all.”

One group, calling itself the Wolf Pack, set up quarters under a canopy with a banner showing a wolf howling at the moon. The Wolf Pack has two rules — no rules and no meetings — and its members sat along a rickety cafeteria-style table covered with bags of Doritos and pretzels. The drinks were on another table, along with a soldier’s helmet topped with a carved wood kayak and a sticker identifying the owner as the Grand Supreme Ruler.

“That’s mine because I’m the oldest,” said Artie Wehrhahn, 60, of Greentown, Pa.

“It’s a strange paradox,” said Joe Cambria, 42, the tournament organizer, who was born and raised in the Bronx and now lives in New Rochelle. “Here you have this amazing resource. Some of the best fishing, kayaking, birding around. And yet you still have garbage and trash and all kinds of stuff floating in the water.”

Nevertheless, the fishermen say they feel like they are immersed in nature. And they say that this time of year, with fish swimming north, it is some of the best fishing in the Northeast.

“This is like church,” said Craig Stoner, 48. “You come here in the morning, you have no impure thoughts. You’re about to go fishing. It’s beautiful out here. It’s as close you can get to God without visiting him.” And then he added, “It’s a little slice of heaven in the middle of a concrete cesspool.”


http://www.nytimes.c...amp;oref=slogin