From where I stand, sit, stand, pace, sit, and stand, April is debatable as a fishing month in Rhode Island’s saltier waters. Yeah, I know: It’s probably un-American not to do the first-schoolies thing—West Wall, Carpenters, First Beach, Cemetery Cove, the Narrow River and the rest of it, in no particular order. It started on schedule—roughly–and if you’re into it, it’s still going on, now in a greatly expanded number of spots. (There are, my sources have been telling me, some bigger schoolies in the mix so far.)
Personally, though, and I’m sure the following statement partly reflects the deck-ape side of my rod-and-reel consciousness, May’s the month when I start getting really jingled up about the new season—about the 15-pound fluke gliding up through the Sand Bank Channel south and east of the Island, a couple weeks ahead of their arrival in the 60- to 80-foot depths outside Point Judith Light and off Newport’s Ocean Drive. The first better bass over at the Island—the North Rip, the SW Corner—and on the mainland side anywhere brackish water heavy with the scent of river herring flows seaward. The squid should be thick by mid-month, and worth a few long, nighttime sessions out at Nebraska Shoal or up in the Matunuck hangs the draggers avoid like bear traps, there to stock up on the foot-long loligo tubes, the fresh, local stuff—the best bait that gets mighty scarce by late June.
May’s the month I check my guide-liners for burrs or chips, cut back worn braid, and splice in a shot of fresh stuff to pack spools full, change topshots, tie up fresh, top-secret fluke, sea bass, striper rigs. It’s May when, finally clear of winter’s catastrophic overhead, I finally have the requisite Huckleberry money to buy the pairs of jigs I’ll need for the old “Big Spro, Little Spro” rigs that absolutely hone big fluke some days. I’ll buy a new season’s Xtra-Tuff deck boots, a new sharpening steel, maybe a fresh serrated Victorinox belt knife, new gloves, and a dozen pairs of throwaway needle-nose pliers (no point, I’ve always felt, in buying $400 snips, then stressing over the sickening “plunk” that is the sound of inevitability). I’ll contemplate that Daiwa Saltist I’ve been coveting, too.
By the end of May’s second week, it’ll be game-on. No shakedown, no warm-up, just the annual two-week trial-by-fire, during which I’ll get back into boat shape, get my first surprise sunburn, take the season’s first weather flogging. We all have our own programs. May’s the month when they move from the theoretical distance of our heads into the immediate foreground—the realm of our hands and our five-plus senses.
As for this magazine, this month’s installment marks an important transition from the pre-season idle up on to plane and under way into the awakening liquid fore. While, this being our fifth print-run, some aspects of this enterprise remain in flux, we move closer to a more predictable form with each deadline. For this drift, we’ve elected to handle the fishing forecasts we’ve delivered every month the same way we’ve been doing things to date, on a species-by-species basis. Given the relatively short list of viable fisheries at the moment, we’ll lay out some sound wisdom on early-season stripers and the first round of fluke—the second half of May a better-than-average time to seek out some just-arrived welcome-mat slabs on some of the plateaus and patches of cobble-strewn broken bottom around the Bay mouth and along the south-shore beaches east and west. Also, continuing what we started last month, we’ve included another entry in what will be our ongoing “New Grounds” series detailing prime stretches of the sea bed around state waters. But you know how to turn pages: you see all of this for yourself momentarily.
Meanwhile, at the risk of overstepping the privileges of my office, I’d like to address some other business here, particularly since there’s no formal “Publishers’ Note” in this month’s issue.
Over the last four months or so, your Benevolent Co-Publishers, Mike and Lisa, and I have logged borderline-insane hours weighing out how best to fill these pages with compelling material—how to, in the most comprehensive way possible, cover the endless array of world-class fishing opportunities that will unfold over the course of this season within the Ocean State’s territorial boundaries. As an editor with a tendency toward weird, boring, and obscure interests, I would like to pass the million-dollar question on to you: If you were to start a magazine with the express purpose of covering the wild array of saltwater angling possibilities in Ocean State waters, what would that magazine contain?
The good news for both of us is that, during a time that has not been particularly kind to the world of printed words in general, your Publishers (my bosses), Mike and Lisa, understand better than most folks I’ve encountered from the business end of print media, the absolute necessity of maintaining a measure of all important separation between the “church” of good writing and the “state” of advertising and the bottom line. They know that you readers aren’t stupid—that you can pick up the whiff of commercialized copy in parts-per-million concentrations. Don’t expect fluff in our pages.
The better news? The business model at the core of this publication almost almost 180-degrees counter to the approach most other sport-fish mags have taken. Where the call of national ad dollars has led the majority of regional and national books toward an editorial mix dominated by product writing and the kind of location-generic “how-to” stories or analytical pieces on big, evergreen fishing topics areas that let them achieve maximum geographic reach with the remaining editorial space. These titles are grounded locally, but geared toward the national level of the industry and its “big picture.”
Coastal Angler, on the other hand, is essentially a national entity whose various local editions are aimed at the community level—at ultra-local fishing opportunities, trends, and attitudes. At the heart of our magazine (literally and figuratively) you’ll find coverage only of what pertains to the fishing you actually do, week in, week out, here in fish-rich Ocean State waters. Frankly, unless there’s some bite real fishermen are eyeing on the out-of-state side of our territorial boundaries—a huge shot of fluke off the south side of Fishers Island, say, or a pile of 40-plus-pound slob stripers piled up like cordwood on the reefs south of Westport, MA—we haven’t much use (or space) for the fishing in neighboring states. Other editions of CAM hold watch in those areas, again with a super-local editorial focus.
What we care about is creating a forum where Rhode Island fishermen, or those who “commute” to fish in our waters, can find or share reliable information about the fishing they do—not just the generic techniques, but the practical application of those methods as they’re employed in our collective back yard.
With all that said, like any grassroots enterprise, our success will depend on the extent to which you claim this mag as your own; we’re counting on you—our monthly readers, daily Facebook posters, etc.—to help keep us in the so-called loop. One tricky part of Rhode Island culture is our ridiculous shared notions about geographic distance. I’m only half-kidding when I confess to packing an overnight bag when I drive north of the famed “Tower” that marks the northern border of South County. Accordingly, while I frequent Newport waters by sea, I’d don’t log many hours with my boots on Aquidneck Island soil. That in no way means I don’t care what happens there; it’s just that I’ll be counting on those of you who pay taxes there to keep me posted when you have fishing news that needs to reach beyond your various bridges. Likewise, those of you who spend long hours rounding up bait and subsequently drifting it or live-lining in the Providence River, Bristol Harbor, or the Tiverton Basin, or diamond jigging along the drop-offs outside Prudence Island, or trying to stick big spring blackfish on the shoal-water rockpiles or deeper ledges scattered around the middle Bay, should consider this magazine a natural extension of your local fishing communities.
As we assemble this magazine under deadline, we’ll strive to cover only that fishing which is of most immediate interest to you. You can have it once a month, either in the traditional printed form, or in a downloadable electronic (PDF) format via our website. Speaking of paper copies, we are now in the process of literally doubling our in-the-field distribution, and we’d love to hear from you if there’s a tackle shop, gas station, coffee shop, newsstand, or other business in your neighborhood you think ought to carry this fine publication, be sure to reach out: You can relay such requests to Lisa Helme, who rides point on our ongoing circulation efforts, at lisad@coastalanglermagazine.com.
If your fishing club or marina needs to get the word out on an upcoming tournament, seminar, meeting or other event, you can feel free to blast the particulars—who, what, where, when, how, plus contact phone number and e-mail—on our Facebook page, or shoot us a quick e-mail with same. And if, further, you’d like some promotional copies to pass out at that event, send us a request a few weeks ahead of the big day. All of this we’ll be glad to give you for free.
The only caveat—all we ask in return—is this: In keeping with our own informal grassroots marching orders, all we ask is that you keep your hard-earned fishing dollars local as well. We fish in a time when there’s real danger of losing critical infrastructure that serves our state’s sport-fishing community—thanks to saltwater licenses, loss of historical shoreline access, endless regulations, and other forces that continue to build roadblocks between prospective new anglers and our state’s outstanding fisheries. It has never been more important to weigh out the huge long-term cost of saving a couple bucks on that plug or reel by making your purchase at Bigboxorama.
When you see your local tackle shop or a reputable charter or party boat advertising in these pages, know that they’re supporting this mini-community built on a common love for local salt waters. If you believe in our cause, show that by supporting them—and while you’re at it, tell them you saw their ad in these pages. If, in the meantime, you have an “Oh s@#$!” or an “Attaboy!” or better yet, some candid thoughts about stories we should run, spots or tactics we should spotlight, you can get me at zhfished@gmail.com.
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