Monday, April 13th
The alarm went off at 4am and I hopped right out bed without hitting the snooze.
Spring has a way of doing that to a fisherman. Today — Wednesday — is nearly 70 degrees, sunny and windless, the kind of April day that makes you forget winter ever happened. But Monday was a different animal entirely: gusty, overcast, temperatures locked in the 40s. None of that mattered. I had a plan, and I had a feeling!
I was after striped bass. Not the migrators — those fish are still a few weeks out, making their way north from the Chesapeake and Hudson. I was after the holdovers: stripers that have quietly spent the winter tucked into the warmest, most sheltered corners of Cape Cod, and are now waking up, their metabolism ramping with the rising water temperatures, their appetite growing by the day.
Finding these fish requires a completely different approach than the open beach. The key is knowing what to look for and where. [🔒 Members: I break down how to locate spots like this one — and there are more of them than you'd think.]
I arrived during false dawn — that quiet, electric sliver of time between full darkness and first light that most of the world sleeps right through. The birds were already up, calling through the trees. The wind pressed through the marsh grass. Most of Cape Cod was still in bed. Out here, it felt like the world belonged to me and whatever was swimming beneath that dark, glassy water.
The tide was low and still pulling out. I made my first cast into the blackness, and started working through the spot — making my presentation look like something alive and vulnerable.
The lure I used on this trip is a personal favorite for early-season holdovers — a soft plastic that perfectly mimics the forage in these backwater spots. [🔒 Members: login to get the full tackle breakdown.]
A dead horseshoe crab along the shoreline — one of many I spotted. These ancient creatures are a key part of the Cape’s intertidal food web.
A fish skeleton discovered along the bank. What species could this be? It’s a tough existence, even in the most sheltered waters.
A sea worm spotted in the shallows — exactly the kind of forage that supports holdover striped bass on Cape Cod.
Fresh deer tracks in the sand. You’re never truly alone out here.
Within the first 30 minutes I had already landed a couple of schoolies, and I was already pumped. But at roughly 5:45am, the water simply exploded.
A huge boil. White water. The lure got annihilated by something significantly larger than a schoolie, the rod loading hard, the Stradic’s drag singing as a heavy fish ran. That first run — the one that catches you off guard even when you’re expecting it — never gets old.
After a spirited fight I had her at my feet in the shallows. I didn’t have a tape on me, but she was somewhere in the 35–38 inch range by my best estimate, heavy-bellied and bright-sided, a fish that looked like she’d eaten well all winter. I spent a good minute reviving her, watching her gills work, feeling her strength return under my hands.
The big girl herself — estimated 35–38 inches, fat and healthy. A really great fish!
Taking time to properly revive the big fish before release. She shot off strong.
The moment of release — watching a fish that size swim back into the dark water never gets old.
One of several schoolies that also cooperated on the morning. Even the smaller fish were putting up a great fight.
I caught a few more smaller fish before calling it. Mission accomplished and then some.
On the walk out I stopped to pick up trash — a golf ball, a lobster trap bait bag, a dog poop bag (mercifully empty), some random plastic, and a marijuana gummy wrapper (unfortunately also empty LOL).
A golf ball found in the marsh. From a nearby course, or just the universe testing my short game?
An old lobster trap bait bag — one of several pieces of marine debris collected on the walk out.
A weathered pre-packaged peanut butter and jelly wrapper. Probably blown into the ocean somewhere on a Cape beach last summer.
I left the place a little cleaner than I found it, which always feels good.
I won’t name the exact spot, and I hope you’ll understand why. This is a small, sensitive area — the kind of place that can be quietly wonderful for a handful of anglers or quickly ruined for everyone if it gets blown up. What I can tell you is that places like it exist all over Cape Cod, and a little time on Google Earth will point you toward them.
A video of the adventure is in the works and will be up on the site for members in the next couple weeks. Until then: the holdovers are active, the water is warming, and the main migration isn’t far off. Get out there!
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About the author
Ryan Collins
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Great story and a great catch! :fishing_pole:
You give a great read Ryan. I enjoyed the new article through out with a bonus fish while cleaning up debris. Thank you and well deserved to be on the board. Be safe on your journeys.
That’s awesome! Congrats Ryan!
Nice write up Ryan. Good story to read…..
Mike
@admin awesome outing ! can’t wait for the freshies to arrive