46 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Jan. II, 1913 
Taking ^Channel Bass off Cape May. 
BY MARK HOPKINS, JR. 
Cape May is the southernmost town on the 
east coast of New Jersey. It is used principally 
as a summer resort where people bathe off the 
magnificent beach, play tennis, golf and do the 
usual things done at a place of that ilk. 
This summer, however, I discovered some¬ 
thing that appealed to me more than any of the 
foregoing games. It was my first summer there, 
and having often heard of the channel bass caught 
north of Cape May, 1 moved around to find out 
if there might not be something of the kind to 
be found off the long beach, with its shoals and 
rips, especially toward Cape May Point,- where 
the Delaware Bay turns out into the Atlantic 
and a long shoal runs out for two miles to the 
buoy which marks the channel for the packets 
and long tows. 
While in a deep conversation with Mr. Baum 
the fish man, who had a pound off the point, I 
learned that his son, George Baum, (and there 
never was a better fellow to go out with, fish 
or no fish) was a member of the U. S. Life 
Saving crew at the point, and that he had a 
small gasolene launch of which more anon, in 
which he went out when laid off during the 
summer months and got channel bass. 
That was enough for me. I got in line 
wdth George, looked over my tarpon tackle, and 
two days later found myself off the point on the 
ebb tide in George’s motor boat. That boat de¬ 
serves a column of its own. It was as George 
expressed it, distinctly a “mongrel.” Twenty- 
two feet Over all, eight-foot beam, open amid¬ 
ships, the bow decked over about three feet; the 
engine about six feet forward of the stern and 
in the stern a raised cockpit almost level with 
the gunwale, which made an ideal place to sit 
and play your fish when you hooked him. Last, 
but not least, she was flat-bottomed, which al¬ 
lowed her to slip over the choppy cross seas of 
the rips like a duck. 
We were anchored about twenty-five yards 
off the shoal. The tide being on the ebb, the 
stern faced the rips, and as the current was run¬ 
ning about five miles an hour, it took a heavy 
dipsey or sinker to find bottom in the shallow 
water, where all the big fish feed on the sand 
crabs which are covered and uncovered by the 
tides. 
George put a half a side of a moss bunker 
or menhaden on for bait, and the line ran out 
with the tide for about twenty-five yards before 
the dipsey found bottom on the edge of the 
shoal. He then cast over his hand-line, and we 
sat there sliding up and down on the green-gray 
water with the rips tumbling about just ahead 
of us, and the Lord knows what in the way of 
big fish playing around under it. 
I got the first strike. It came like a flash, 
and “zing” out went about seventy-five yards 
of line. I had the patent brake on, and was 
just making up my mind to put on the thumb 
brake when the fish slacked up and rose toward 
the surface. George, watching the line, mur¬ 
mured something about sharks, and in about ten 
minutes an 18-pound shark arrived alongside the 
boat to be clubbed on the head with the tiller 
and chucked overboard. George then proceeded 
to annex another shark, and I may as well say 
right now that we hooked and killed eleven of 
the brutes in the next hour and a half. After 
that came a lull until I felt a light strike and 
reeled in a weakfish, which my guide and mentor 
unhooked and laid in the bottom of the boat, 
remarking that the sharks had evidently moved 
on, and that as the bass and weakfish generally 
fed together, it looked good for a real fish. 
I give you my word that my dipsey hadn’t 
been on bottom for ten seconds after that when 
I got a shock that would put an amber-jack in 
the “also ran’’ class. 
Bang! the bass hit the line and took it off 
the reel so fast that my heart up-swallowed 
into my mouth as I watched it diminish on the 
reel. After he had out about 150 yards I put 
on the thumb brake and he slowed up, finally 
surging in a big circle around the boat, I couldn't 
tell how deep. It was ticklish work with a light 
line, the heavy fish and the strong tide running 
with him. My mouth was like the inside of a 
lime burner’s hat, and my left arm was posi¬ 
tively nothing but glass—felt liable to crack any 
minute—while George, who weighs 180, was hop¬ 
ping about forward like a squirrel in a cage. 
For twenty minutes did I play that bass and 
had him within twenty-five feet of the boat when 
happening to look up he saw our bottom. Zing! 
zing! zing! three sharp metallic jerks, and he 
was off again and nothing stopped him until an¬ 
other 150 yards of line had gone out. Then the 
same thing again for twenty minutes more until 
he lay alongside, and I pumped him up so George 
could hang the gaff in him, and in he came, a 
great big gold fish, all old rose color on the 
side and back, white belly and the tremendous 
head and mouth of the bass family. 
I swore long and fluently—so did George— 
but it was the swearing of pure joy which dif¬ 
fers much from that of a lost hook, dipsey and 
several yards of line. 
Not another one did we strike that day, but 
later on several others were taken, and take it 
all in all. I’ll take off my hat to the channel 
bass. He is in the same class as any of the 
big-game fishes that do not leave the water, and 
as I said can even go the amber-jack one better. 
Fishing in California. 
BY GOLDEN GATE. 
The fall run of steelhead has commenced 
on the Russian River and will doubtless be 
very heavy in a few days, as conditions are 
ideal. The run has commenced a little earlier 
than usual, and already some large fish are 
making their appearance, several having been 
taken weighing from ten to fifteen pounds. The 
bar at the mouth of the river has been open 
for about three weeks, but only within the past 
few days have the fish commenced taking the 
hook. 
Striped bass fishing at Wingo and San An¬ 
tonio sloughs has shown an improvement of 
late, and some good catches are now being 
made. The best run of bass, however, is being 
found at Petaluma Creek. Albert Wilson and 
Robert Sangster recently took sixty bass there, 
the largest weighing over thirty pounds, and 
two other anglers took over twenty in one 
day. The customary clam bait seems to meet 
with but little favor on the part of the bass, the 
big catches having been made on bullhead bait. 
Fishing off Point Reyes is very poor for 
this season of the year, but on Tomales Bay 
some fine sport is being enjoyed. The bars at 
the mouth of most of the coast streams are 
now closed and a rain is needed to clear these 
out and to freshen the water. 
Annual Jollification of the Anglers’ 
Club of New York. 
To the Knights of the seductive bamboo — Greet¬ 
ings: 
Get out your duffle bags and hike to the 
Hotel Navarre shortly after sunset on the night 
of Jan. 14, 1913. Your reward will follow in 
the shape of a good dinner worth while, talks 
and pleasing motion pictures. All this, includ¬ 
ing “ohbejoyful,” for three bones. Preserve the 
date (Jan. 14) in paraffine and fish for fellow 
reel grinders to come with you and share with 
you the joy of the “peat-reek flavor of the glori¬ 
ous Scotch. 
Another more far-reaching cast will be made 
in a few days. The Dinner Committee. 
Notes From New Zealand. 
BY DRUMMOND SHARPE. 
Nov. 19 will be marked in my diary by 
letters of reddest ink—but wait, really now, how 
tiresome. Just when I have taken pen to tell 
of the best fishing day that has been mine for 
years, a thought suddenly occurs which robs 
me of at least half the pleasure of relating the 
experience in another land. It occurs that our 
New Zealand seasons differ most perversely 
from those of older countries; that while we 
are now at the beginning of summer, my 
friends in the United States may be driving 
sleighs over frozen snow, and therefore a hunt¬ 
ing yarn might prove more interesting at the 
moment. Over seas the rod has been put 
away, giving place to gun and rifle; really—I 
repeat it—what a truly tiresome thought. 
However, I find that a chronicle of any sport 
is usually interesting toi sportsmen in any land; 
so encouraged by certain of our numerous 
visitors from the other side, I venture a few 
brief lines to describe .some splendid fishing, 
before the rest. 
Revived by one of the rainiest years on 
record, from the baneful effects of drouthy 
summers in the past, every New Zealand 
