JAT11
06-13-2008, 12:16 PM
It's the most wonderful time of the year
By JOHN H. OSWALD • STAFF WRITER • June 13, 2008
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Forget Christmas. For Rick Donofrio, the most wonderful time of the year is June, when the big bass appear in Shore waters and he spends every waking moment in pursuit of them.
"I figure I'm going to be dead a long time and I want to get out there every chance I get. I'm not much of a sleeper any way. I should of have been a milk man," Donofrio said.
By his own admission, he's got an serious addiction to striped bass fishing.
Speaking of death, thanks to Donofrio, I, too, can now die a happy man.
Big bass have always eluded me. Fish with big baits I was told, cast big lures, fish on the downside of the full moon, act like you know what you're doing . . . none of it worked. I've caught my share of bass in the surf, but I think 25 pounds may have been my biggest. I wanted to catch one whose head was as big as mine — but better looking.
And Donofrio made it happen.
We had made plans to go bass fishing several times since early May aboard the Jayme D, his 26-foot May-Craft named after his daughter, but we were thwarted every time due to bad weather or less than ideal fishing conditions. So when he called last Saturday, and said the time was now — even the tone of his voice indicated destiny awaited.
Now that I think about it, he may have been stalling until June arrived. If so, the tactic worked.
He'd caught fish that morning, and the day before, and the June run was on.
So we met Donofrio and his fishing partner of 15 years, Phil Miller, a retired sergeant from the Ocean Township Police Department, who resides in Shark River Hills, as does Donofrio. Donofrio said it was a good relationship. Each knows what the other is doing so sometimes they don't even speak on the boat.
We met at the Shark River Beach and Yacht Club at 4:45 a.m., 15 minutes earlier than originally planned. Donofrio had a feeling it would make a difference. We left the dock in search of bass that were biting as fiercely as the no-see-ums were biting us on a very warm Tuesday morning.
As plans go, this one couldn't be simpler: find a school of bunker, snag one, leave it there and, hopefully, a big bass will eat it. Bunker had been appearing in increasing numbers over the past several weeks and now it looked like they had arrived in force.
"My eyes are such that I can't read a phone book or a pharmacy label, but I can always spot bunker," Donofrio said.
He didn't have to look too far. Right out of Shark River Inlet, we came upon a school and we immediately set to work snagging bait. Donofrio and Miller tossed weighted treble hooks into the bait with conventional tackle, while I, a surfcaster by birth, used a spinning reel on a plugging rod. The two veteran bass fishermen politely rolled their eyes when I brought it on board.
As is often the case, there was bait, but no fish. So we headed north — where we ran into the competition. A pod of dolphin were out for breakfast.
"It's great to see them," Donofrio said, "but they chase the bunker and the bass go with them."
While scanning the water, Donofrio also is on his cell phone talking to other boats to see what's going on. He knows everybody out there and they all let one another know who's found the fish. It's a wonderful thing to see such cooperation among fishermen and it is very much the rule, not the exception.
Thanks to the cell, we turned back south and Donofrio spotted a school of bunker close to the beach off Spring Lake. There I realized the error of my ways and switched to one of the conventional reels and a rod with some more backbone. On our last stop, I had snagged two bunker on a single hook and even they proved too much for the light rod.
Donofrio and Miller got fishing right away, while I wrestled with the conventional reel and tried to snag some bait. This school of bunker was very active — the dinner bell had been rung and they were today's special.
Phil Miller hooked up almost immediately. After a spirited battle, Miller got the fish close enough to the boat and Donofrio was quick with the gaff and landed a beautiful striper close to 30 pounds. Then just as quickly Donofrio was back fishing and he soon had a fish on.
He was kind enough to offer me the rod as I was still trying to snag a bunker. With what little pride I had left, I declined, figuring if I wanted to catch the fish, I had to at least catch the bait. Donofrio soon landed another nice bass.
While I was still bunkerless, Donofrio hooked up again, and again he offered the rod. This time, with the pride needle on empty, I took it. At this point, I figure, I should at least learn what a large bass feels like.
It felt great. The constant, powerful pressure from that big tail seemed much different from the give-and-take fight from the beach.
Donofrio then put the boat back on the school of bunker and we started again. Feeling a little more proficient with the conventional reel, I manage to snag a bunker and hope for the best.
And it happened. The twitching bunker at the end of the line suddenly turned into a dramatic steady pull and a big fish was on. Then he was off. Then, as I pulled the line to the boat he was on again — this time to stay.
While my experience with these big bass is limited — one fish — I could tell this one was larger than the last. And for the second time in my life, I was right.
All I could do was hang on and wait till he tired out, and when he did, Miller was there with the gaff. While I was fighting my fish, Donofrio was similarly occupied and he landed another beauty.
And then it was over.
The fish had attracted a crowd and a number of boats arrived on the scene, getting into the action. The bunker remained, slapping the water, but the stripers that had been feasting on them disappeared.
It was all over in about a half an hour and we had six nice fish in the cooler. Donofrio guessed that had we left the dock any later, we might have missed them altogether. The sign of a good captain is foresight.
Who knows where they went. The fish may have had their fill or the presence of so many boats may have sent them elsewhere.
As we set off in search of more fish, Donofrio, who owns Jersey Shore Florist on Route 33 in Neptune, talked about how the resurgence of bunker in New Jersey waters has made this kind of fishing possible.
"The reduction boats from Virginia would come in here and just take all the bunker. There's no way you'd get these big fish in here without the bunker. There was nothing to feed on," he said. "And if you did get a fish, say 45-inches long, it would weigh 19- or 20-pounds. It was emaciated."
Donofrio, an animated and passionate angler, started fishing as a kid and never stopped. He has worked as a mate, got his captain's license and ran his own charter business. And fishing is in the family. His brother, Jim, is the executive director of the Recreational Fishing Alliance, the only full-time lobbying group created to protect the rights of recreational fisherman. The RFA is largely credited with putting an end to the taking of bunker from New Jersey's coastal waters by the reduction boats.
"Those boats would come in and take out 90 million pounds of bunker in two weeks," Jim Donofrio said. "As you can imagine, the loss of forage for the stiped bass had a devastating impact on the local fishery."
Thankfully, the bunker are back.
And that means Rick Donofrio, recognized by many as one of the best bass fisherman around, can get out every morning in June for a chance to catch big fish..
And it gave me a chance to catch the biggest bass of my life.
By JOHN H. OSWALD • STAFF WRITER • June 13, 2008
function NewWindow(height,width,url) {window.open(url,"ShowProdWindow","menubars=0,scrollbars=1,resizable=1,height="+height+",width="+width); }
Forget Christmas. For Rick Donofrio, the most wonderful time of the year is June, when the big bass appear in Shore waters and he spends every waking moment in pursuit of them.
"I figure I'm going to be dead a long time and I want to get out there every chance I get. I'm not much of a sleeper any way. I should of have been a milk man," Donofrio said.
By his own admission, he's got an serious addiction to striped bass fishing.
Speaking of death, thanks to Donofrio, I, too, can now die a happy man.
Big bass have always eluded me. Fish with big baits I was told, cast big lures, fish on the downside of the full moon, act like you know what you're doing . . . none of it worked. I've caught my share of bass in the surf, but I think 25 pounds may have been my biggest. I wanted to catch one whose head was as big as mine — but better looking.
And Donofrio made it happen.
We had made plans to go bass fishing several times since early May aboard the Jayme D, his 26-foot May-Craft named after his daughter, but we were thwarted every time due to bad weather or less than ideal fishing conditions. So when he called last Saturday, and said the time was now — even the tone of his voice indicated destiny awaited.
Now that I think about it, he may have been stalling until June arrived. If so, the tactic worked.
He'd caught fish that morning, and the day before, and the June run was on.
So we met Donofrio and his fishing partner of 15 years, Phil Miller, a retired sergeant from the Ocean Township Police Department, who resides in Shark River Hills, as does Donofrio. Donofrio said it was a good relationship. Each knows what the other is doing so sometimes they don't even speak on the boat.
We met at the Shark River Beach and Yacht Club at 4:45 a.m., 15 minutes earlier than originally planned. Donofrio had a feeling it would make a difference. We left the dock in search of bass that were biting as fiercely as the no-see-ums were biting us on a very warm Tuesday morning.
As plans go, this one couldn't be simpler: find a school of bunker, snag one, leave it there and, hopefully, a big bass will eat it. Bunker had been appearing in increasing numbers over the past several weeks and now it looked like they had arrived in force.
"My eyes are such that I can't read a phone book or a pharmacy label, but I can always spot bunker," Donofrio said.
He didn't have to look too far. Right out of Shark River Inlet, we came upon a school and we immediately set to work snagging bait. Donofrio and Miller tossed weighted treble hooks into the bait with conventional tackle, while I, a surfcaster by birth, used a spinning reel on a plugging rod. The two veteran bass fishermen politely rolled their eyes when I brought it on board.
As is often the case, there was bait, but no fish. So we headed north — where we ran into the competition. A pod of dolphin were out for breakfast.
"It's great to see them," Donofrio said, "but they chase the bunker and the bass go with them."
While scanning the water, Donofrio also is on his cell phone talking to other boats to see what's going on. He knows everybody out there and they all let one another know who's found the fish. It's a wonderful thing to see such cooperation among fishermen and it is very much the rule, not the exception.
Thanks to the cell, we turned back south and Donofrio spotted a school of bunker close to the beach off Spring Lake. There I realized the error of my ways and switched to one of the conventional reels and a rod with some more backbone. On our last stop, I had snagged two bunker on a single hook and even they proved too much for the light rod.
Donofrio and Miller got fishing right away, while I wrestled with the conventional reel and tried to snag some bait. This school of bunker was very active — the dinner bell had been rung and they were today's special.
Phil Miller hooked up almost immediately. After a spirited battle, Miller got the fish close enough to the boat and Donofrio was quick with the gaff and landed a beautiful striper close to 30 pounds. Then just as quickly Donofrio was back fishing and he soon had a fish on.
He was kind enough to offer me the rod as I was still trying to snag a bunker. With what little pride I had left, I declined, figuring if I wanted to catch the fish, I had to at least catch the bait. Donofrio soon landed another nice bass.
While I was still bunkerless, Donofrio hooked up again, and again he offered the rod. This time, with the pride needle on empty, I took it. At this point, I figure, I should at least learn what a large bass feels like.
It felt great. The constant, powerful pressure from that big tail seemed much different from the give-and-take fight from the beach.
Donofrio then put the boat back on the school of bunker and we started again. Feeling a little more proficient with the conventional reel, I manage to snag a bunker and hope for the best.
And it happened. The twitching bunker at the end of the line suddenly turned into a dramatic steady pull and a big fish was on. Then he was off. Then, as I pulled the line to the boat he was on again — this time to stay.
While my experience with these big bass is limited — one fish — I could tell this one was larger than the last. And for the second time in my life, I was right.
All I could do was hang on and wait till he tired out, and when he did, Miller was there with the gaff. While I was fighting my fish, Donofrio was similarly occupied and he landed another beauty.
And then it was over.
The fish had attracted a crowd and a number of boats arrived on the scene, getting into the action. The bunker remained, slapping the water, but the stripers that had been feasting on them disappeared.
It was all over in about a half an hour and we had six nice fish in the cooler. Donofrio guessed that had we left the dock any later, we might have missed them altogether. The sign of a good captain is foresight.
Who knows where they went. The fish may have had their fill or the presence of so many boats may have sent them elsewhere.
As we set off in search of more fish, Donofrio, who owns Jersey Shore Florist on Route 33 in Neptune, talked about how the resurgence of bunker in New Jersey waters has made this kind of fishing possible.
"The reduction boats from Virginia would come in here and just take all the bunker. There's no way you'd get these big fish in here without the bunker. There was nothing to feed on," he said. "And if you did get a fish, say 45-inches long, it would weigh 19- or 20-pounds. It was emaciated."
Donofrio, an animated and passionate angler, started fishing as a kid and never stopped. He has worked as a mate, got his captain's license and ran his own charter business. And fishing is in the family. His brother, Jim, is the executive director of the Recreational Fishing Alliance, the only full-time lobbying group created to protect the rights of recreational fisherman. The RFA is largely credited with putting an end to the taking of bunker from New Jersey's coastal waters by the reduction boats.
"Those boats would come in and take out 90 million pounds of bunker in two weeks," Jim Donofrio said. "As you can imagine, the loss of forage for the stiped bass had a devastating impact on the local fishery."
Thankfully, the bunker are back.
And that means Rick Donofrio, recognized by many as one of the best bass fisherman around, can get out every morning in June for a chance to catch big fish..
And it gave me a chance to catch the biggest bass of my life.