Striped bass season resumed on August 1, after a two week moratorium, and the return to action on the Chesapeake Bay was marked by a gorgeous weekend of weather that hovered around a high of 80F with few clouds and sunshine. Those that fished for stripers in the lower portion of the middle Bay, were rewarded with a few decent schoolie fish. With August being a transition month (we start getting a few cooler evenings), the hope is that the fish will start spreading into the shallows and upriver to feed on moving baitfish. I took a chance, betting on some schoolie action in the Severn on Sunday morning, and it proved to be a grind on the river. Here’s the breakdown.
Fishing is planning. If you want success, develop a plan ahead of your trip and create options for yourself. If plan A isn’t working, try plan B, so on and so forth. And sometimes…sometimes, even the best laid-out plans can be extremely trying when on the water.
My plan A for the morning was to be at the Naval Academy seawall before/at sunrise to fish topwater lures along the structure for striped bass. My reasoning was that, in my opinion and observation so far this summer, more schoolie bass were in the lower portion of the Severn than in the upper. I’ve observed a lot of baitfish moving in the lower Severn, there is substantial structure in the lower Severn, and it’s, obviously, in closer proximity to the Bay proper where activity can be better during peak summer.
The tidal movement for the morning through afternoon would be a bit wonky. A mid-waxing moon position had the peak high tide at 1:59 a.m. with a progressively lower but flattening tide cycle by 9:24 a.m. continuing through noon. Tidal movement would be minimal overall, but likely most active around dawn/sunrise. Winds were tame–not much.
And so, downriver I ventured in the McKee craft from Valentine Creek, seven miles south to the Academy—a beautiful ride along the calm river with nobody else (surprisingly) in sight. The south-facing seawall of the Academy is one of the larger shoreline rip-rap structures on the Severn. Combine this with some moving water, and one would figure fish would be feeding around this spot. I arrived about 20 minutes before the sun started to show itself on the horizon.
The water had a bit of movement right to left along the seawall and conditions were calm enough to throw a walking lure on topwater. Choice one was an older-model Shimano Coltsniper in bone white. And I worked it along a stretch of the seawall but no rises. With all engines off, the current gently pushed me along the seawall, just about perfectly. Silence was golden, but the fishing was not. I tried a small Chug Bug popper that I had tied to another setup (also in bone white). Sometimes the fish are attracted to a more active pop-n-spit bait versus shimmying walking lure. Still nada. Hmmm. I will note that my sidescan was not showing much activity below water.
Having worked the spot with accuracy and a couple options, I made the call to move on to plan B—jig deeper water around the massive pilings of the two bridges just slightly upriver. I motored to the first of two—the Academy bridge and scanned the area with down- and side-imaging for life. Didn’t see much, so I quickly moved up to the next bridge—the Route 50 crossing. It’s larger and the water slightly deeper around the east side. Here, I did see some life—likely lots of perch and baitfish—so I gave jigging a try. With a 1oz G-Eye jighead (white) married to a 7” Zman scented Jerk Shadz (chartreuse), I pitched the lure along the pilings and let it sink to bottom, then hopped it back on the retrieve. I felt a few pecks, but no true takes. On to plan C, which was moving directly across the river from the deep pilings to the shallow side of the bridge, where a feeder creek flows around a sand flat and shoreline lined with phragmites—a possible feeding zone. I tried topwater here, but no fish.
With the morning still infant—it was maybe 8 a.m. by this point—I moved back upriver for plan D, to Round Bay to fish some topwater around sandbars and adjacent submerged grass, and try jigging around docks with a 1/2oz bucktail. Hitting a slew of my favorite spots didn’t produce. The striper bite was simply non-existent this morning, at least where I was fishing in the river.
Finally, I relinquished and tied on a small, 1/4oz Acme Kastmaster—the little silver spoon that seems to scoop up smaller fish without fail. I caved in and began fishing for white perch around a few juicy spots in my home creek, Valentine. Yes, I caught perch. I even caught a feisty chain pickerel. The skunk was off the boat and a little bit of pullage—any pullage—felt good.
The morning, while not successful in the actual catching of stripers, was a success in planning, proficiency, and learning. Every chance to hit water with a plan and evaluate conditions is a learning opportunity. Not every fishing trip will produce exactly the way one wishes. And it’s easy to feel defeated, especially when you’re sitting in your easy-chair scrolling through social media, seeing fish after fish having been caught. Remember, those are only the successful moments. Somebody might post a picture of the only fish they caught and claim they had a great day of fishing. While there’s truth in that (a day on the water beats a day in the office), it seems few anglers share the challenges, but everyone experiences them. It’s what makes fishing so attractive as a sport—the endless pursuit of tight lines, the nuances, the planning. Sometimes, that one fish does, indeed, make for a very successful day. Thus, the grind continues.
See y’all on the water again, real soon!
