I set my alarm for 3 a.m.
That’s the kind of decision that sounds crazy to most people, but anyone who has stood on a remote Cape Cod beach in the pale light before dawn — salt air in your lungs, miles of coastline stretching out ahead of you with no one else in sight — knows exactly why you do it.
The Predawn Hours on Route 6
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The path through the dunes to miles of unspoiled beach and Cape Cod wilderness.
The southwest wind was blowing 15 to 20 when I pulled off route 6, the trees moving in that familiar early-morning way that made me happy I would be fishing from shore and not out on a boat. But the sky was clear, and as I wound my way through the charming, still-sleeping streets of Wellfleet, I had a feeling it was going to be a special day.
Walking Into History
My destination was one of the true hidden gems of Cape Cod National Seashore, and a place that rewards those willing to put in the miles. I will share all the details about exactly where I was fishing in the member-only report, so if you're reading this and you're a member, please login and return to this report to learn more about the spot.
This area offers an extraordinary mosaic of environments: Cape Cod Bay beach, salt marsh, tidal flats, pitch pine forest, and sweeping dunes — all crammed into one remarkable stretch of coastline.
The Punonakanit people of the Wampanoag Nation knew this land intimately, harvesting pilot whales that stranded on these very flats. The Pilgrims noted their presence here in December 1620.
Geared up on the dunes above Cape Cod Bay, rod in hand and the whole day ahead.
My plan was a two-act morning. Act one: work the beach side with spinning gear during the incoming and first part of the outgoing tide, walking south towards a large point that I'll talk more about in the members' report.
Act two: cross over to the harbor side and fish the flats and channels with the fly rod as the tide dropped. Seven hours of fishing, miles of hiking, and whatever the Cape decided to offer.
A Living, Shifting Coastline
The beach walk itself was worth the trip, regardless of fish. I passed stretches of actively eroding bluff, layers of dark peat and ancient sediment exposed by the relentless work of wind and tide — a reminder that Cape Cod is not a permanent fixture, but a living, shifting thing.
I came across what appeared to be the skeleton of a dolphin or small cetacean half-buried in the sand near the marsh edge, its ribcage bleached white against the darker sand. Cape Cod has always been a place where the ocean gives and takes freely.
A marine skeleton discovered near the marsh edge — a reminder of the raw, wild nature of this coastline.
I also picked up a stray aerosol can that had washed up on the otherwise pristine beach. I know many MFCC members also pickup trash while fishing. Thank you all for helping to keep our peninsula clean.
Trash Collected from the beach.
I’d stop and fire off a series of casts every couple hundred yards or so, but the bass weren’t showing themselves. Not yet at least.
Fish Snax Lures’ Da’ Squid — the right imitation at the right time given this spring’s squid abundance.
The Sandbar
That changed just after high tide, well down the beach, when I spotted something unusual through the chop: dark shapes moving slowly over a shallow sandbar roughly 200 yards long and 100 yards wide.
No surface blowups, no birds, no bait showers. Just striped bass — a school of them — slowly cruising and milling in the clear water, visible through the waves. It was the kind of sight that sends a jolt straight through you!
I cast Da' Squid and started working the edges of the school. The first few casts brought followers — fish peeling off from the group and tracking the lure right to my feet before turning away.
Then a short strike. Then, on a retrieve that illicit interest from a half dozen competitive acting fish, one of the stripers committed.
What followed was about 20 of the best minutes of the trip. The bass were responding to the competitive pressure of the school — one fish would follow, others would crowd in, and that instinct to not let a meal get away would finally override their caution.
Want to know what happened next?
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About the author
Ryan Collins
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