A quick, spring trip to the shore for big migratory fish and camping under the stars was both charming and challenging!
Oh, Assateague, my heart is with you. Having camped, fished, and generally enjoyed the sites and beaches here for several decades, I can attest to both the charm and challenges of Assateague Island’s wonderland of riches. It’s a premier, unspoiled stretch of the Atlantic coastline along the eastern seaboard to which visitors from afar flock to, much like the birds and fish.
During spring, it’s the fish that I’m most interested in chasing here—specifically the runs of big migratory striped bass, black drum, and bluefish. Anglers, too, come in droves, and the good news is that there are miles upon miles of beach to stretch out and find one’s own spot to set up and fish.
Along Maryland’s portion of Assateague Island (some 30 miles of beach), you have a couple options to actively enjoy the beaches. One: book a camping reservation at Assateague State Park (tents, RVs, campers accommodated). Two: drive to the Over Sand Vehicle (OSV permit required) area managed by the National Park Service and search the coastline until you find juicy looking water to fish.
Think ahead and plan accordingly. If you intend to camp at the park, you’ll need to book your reservation many months in advance (no matter what time of year you plan to visit). The park’s campground fully books well ahead of the seasons it’s open (April through November). And if you’re camping in the late-spring season, plan for wind, rain, and cold nights. The harsher elements are a fact of life at Assateague and will interrupt beautiful sunshine and warm spring weather more often than not.
Having experienced terrible weather on past spring trips to Assateague, I planned well for this early-May outing—just a 48-hour camping/fishing bender. Nothing more, nothing less. I arrived at the campground on a Thursday afternoon, after making a pit-stop to Buck’s in Berlin, MD, for fresh bait (peeler crabs, clams) and some extra tackle. I checked in at the ranger station, loaded up on split wood for campfires, and set up my own little fish camp (tent and gear) at site C65. Then, I loaded my surf rods, tackle, and bait and spent the next four hours fishing the beach into the early night.
I brought three rods/reels of various lengths and ratings to fish different distances from shore. My 8-footer for close in the first trough before any sandbar, a 9-footer for the action within the near-set of waves, and a 10-footer to get past that set of breakers and into the next trough. Conditions this afternoon/evening were tolerable, but rainy. Wind was favorable though with a west wind from behind topping at 10–15 knots.
I found a juicy looking hole/cut about 20 yards wide that interrupted the first sandbar and set up shop. I baited 6/0 and 8/0 circle hooks on fish-finder rigs with either peeler crab, clams, or sandfleas (I dug up), all tipped with a short strip of Fishbites (clam, shrimp, or sandflea flavors when re-baiting).
About an hour in, one rod starting bending erratically and I picked it up, began reeling slightly, and felt a headshake. Felt like a nice fish and drag began to peel off the reel. A brief encounter with something ensued—a few more headshakes and runs—before the fish (or ray or shark) shook itself off. All I could do was shake my own head and mutter, “Hook didn’t do its job.”
Thankfully, another soak of fresh peeler crab produced another strike—this hit was much more pronounced and the rod bent down hard. The sand-spike it rested within collapsed to the beach and I raced to pick up the rod and set the hook on the fish. This time, the hook did its job and, despite multiple, frisky, drag-peeling runs, I managed to successfully reel-in and beach this fish. A solid striped bass just shy of the 40” mark. Thick and full and healthy.
After a few pictures I settled this fish back into the ocean, helping resuscitate the biggun before it swam away free. A very nice start to this trip made doubly better by dissipating rain and fragments of sunshine that created a rainbow over the ocean.
Another hour and half on the beach, however, didn’t produce and with night falling, I packed up, returned to camp, made supper and a campfire, and relaxed under the clearing sky and stars.
A chilly, windy night gave way to morning and I awoke early, ready to fish. First, a quick breakfast (French pressed coffee, healthy faux sausage, and scrambled egg whites sprinkled with Old Bay seasoning). I returned to my “hole/cut” and the structure seemed present, though milder, likely having shifted due to tides, winds, and current. Nevertheless, it was the best-looking spot still within my range of beach. So, I set up the “bait-store” again and hoped the fish would return.
Well…in hindsight, I should have turned my hopes and wishes into more response and action. I should have moved spots because, after 12 hours of fishing, I had nothing more to show for it. Fresh bait aplenty. Rods set at various distances for long spells. Then all three in the first trough of water (where reports say the black drum have been hitting). Nada. The only thing I had going for me was that I didn’t lose any tackle–yay.
Then, two elements shifted dramatically mid-day. One: my brother came to the shore to visit camp and stay the night, which was most welcome company (!). And two: the wind turned southeasterly, blowing hard at 25 knots. It mucked the water. It sandblasted us on the beach.
Still…I/we had the scenery to enjoy. Pipers raced around the beach in search of tiny clams. Pelicans and gulls overhead. Kite-surfers enjoyed the wind more than anyone. I spotted porpoises. The famed Assateague horses showed themselves on the Bay side of camp. A beautiful, Friday-evening sunset.
Near dinner time, a fellow angler I met earlier in the trip with his family, and who was new to the surf fishing game, walked by and asked me to dig up some sandfleas. I happily obliged, providing him with a handful of chunky fleas. He walked 100 yards downbeach, baited his rod, and immediately caught a 28.5” striped bass. It hit within two minutes of his line getting wet. No joke—you just can’t make this stuff up, but it was such a nice thing to see. Being there with his father and his own son, the new-salt happily took the slot-size striper back to camp, fileted it, and enjoyed dinner with his family.
I suppose that sums up those charms and challenges that Assateague Island can provide. I worked hard to enjoy catching a great fish, then struggled mightily, all before helping and witnessing a generational catch, if you will—that family has a memory made for a lifetime. And so will I.
See y’all on the water again, real soon!
