This past Friday the ice had finally started to thaw, and a strange warmth lingered in the air – well, "warmth" might be a generous description for temperatures in the forties, but after the chilly winter we've experienced, 40 degrees feels like a gift. As the afternoon sun bathed the marshes in golden light, I found myself drawn to the water, eager to make my first saltwater fishing trip of the 2025 Cape Cod season.
My enthusiasm received an extra boost when I spotted a post in the Winter Stripers topic inside the My Fishing Cape Cod forum from member Grant Stark, who managed to land a beautiful 30-inch holdover striped bass while fishing a Cape estuary at night. His photos of that beauty against the backdrop of moonlit marsh grass was all the inspiration I needed. If Grant could find success this early in the season, perhaps I could too.
MFCC member Grant Stark is an ambitious and passionate young angler who doesn't mind braving the cold in search of elusive holdover striped bass!
As many of you know, anglers won't seriously target these waters for weeks to come. The migration of striped bass, bluefish, and other prized saltwater species won't truly begin until late April at the earliest. But for those willing to brave the lingering chill and put in the time, there's a secret that many Cape Cod fishermen have come to appreciate – a small population of resident striped bass that holds over during the winter months, tucked away in the protected marshes and estuaries along the Cape's coastline.
The Call of Early Season Fishing
There's something magical about being the first one out. While tourists won't crowd these shores for months, and most fishing boats remain shrink-wrapped in driveways across New England, I find myself walking through woodland paths that open to vast marshes – just me, the cattails, and the chance of that first striper of the season.
The setting sun casts a mesmerizing golden glow across the winter marshland, transforming the dormant browns of cordgrass and cattails into a warm tapestry of amber, copper, and bronze hues that shimmer and dance with each gentle breath of the coastal breeze.
The marshes in late winter carry their own distinct character. Without summer's constant chorus of insects and the bustle of seasonal visitors, you can hear the whispers of the land – the gentle lapping of tidal waters against the marsh banks, the distant call of returning birds, and the soft rustle of wind through the reeds. This is Cape Cod in its most authentic state, the landscape our ancestors – both European settlers and the indigenous Wampanoag – would have recognized hundreds of years ago.
The Wampanoag, who called this peninsula "Maushop's Land" after a benevolent giant in their mythology, understood the rhythms of these marshes intimately. They harvested fish, shellfish, and more from these very waters, following seasonal patterns that remained unchanged for generations. I often think about these ancient indigenous fishermen, because I know there is a mighty good chance that many of the estuarine spots I fish are likely the same productive spots they fished hundreds of years ago.
Standing on the marsh bank today, watching the tidal currents swirl where three streams converge into a deeper pool, I feel connected to that history – just another fisherman trying my luck in waters that have nourished people for millennia.
Gearing Up for Early Stripers
For this early-season excursion, I've chosen gear that balances sensitivity with durability. My Shimano Nasci 2500 reel paired with a Temple Fork Outfitters rod feels almost like cheating compared to what early Cape fishermen would have used, but the fundamentals remain the same – present something that looks like food, and hope a hungry fish mistakes it for a meal.
The annual striped bass migration won't surge into Cape Cod waters until late April at the earliest, but I know with certainty that a small, hardy population of holdovers remains tucked away in our protected estuaries throughout the winter months. There's something uniquely compelling about pursuing these elusive winter residents—a treasure hunt through peaceful marshes where success is never guaranteed but the challenge itself brings a special satisfaction that summer's more abundant fishing can't quite match.
I've spooled up with 20-pound braided line and attached a heavier 30-pound fluorocarbon leader – perhaps overkill for the modest-sized stripers I might encounter, but a practical choice given my fishing location. The marsh bank sits several feet above the water, and any hooked fish will need to be lifted up. Breaking off a fish while hoisting it up the marsh bank due to inadequate tackle isn't just disappointing – in my opinion it's irresponsible.
For my lure, I've selected a Dart Spin in what I believe is a yellow perch pattern, with a light lead head designed to mimic the small minnows and killifish that resident stripers feed on throughout the winter months. These baitfish spend the winter within the marsh system, and the stripers love them...[click here to continue reading]
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