Clevelanders Catch Twenty-six Drums at Wachapreague in Three Weeks
The following account of a drum fishing trip to Wachapreague, written by Mr. V. B. Gray, Rod and Gun Editor of the Cleveland Plain Dealer and a member of the party recently appeared in the above named paper:
"Casting for channel bass in the surf, from boat or beach, has become one of the most royal of sports and year by year the ranks of its devotees are being swelled. Even the salt water angler who has experienced his greatest thrill in hooking a leaping tarpon, or the man who has contended that his most exciting moments were when a big Chinook salmon was plunging at the end of his line in the Canadian wilds acknowledge after a set-to with His Majesty Sciaenops Ocellatus that nothing of his size that swims can give greater battle.
Randolf aptly describes him in verse as:
Long as a salmon, if not so stout.
And springy and swift as a mountain trout.
"Long ago we made up our mind to try out this much vaunted sport, so when the opportunity came last spring to be in a party that planned an invasion of the Virginia East Coast in September Mrs. Gray and I accepted with alacrity. After weeks of preparation of salt water fishing equipment, in company with Mr. And Mrs. Howard B. Clark, 1368 Nicholson Avenue, Lakewood, we reached Wachapreague, Va., on the fifth of September, prepared for three weeks of fishing and shore bird hunting.
"Mr. And Mrs. Clark had visited Wachapreague last year and in the seven days the northeasters were not blowing had landed fourteen channel bass. So the best places in which to lure the wily red drum, as channel bass are commonly known, had been picked, and the premier guide along the coast, Capt. Theodore Phillips, had been engaged.
"We were at Wachapreague twenty days. In the fifteen days of actual fishing for drum the party of four played and brought to gaff twenty-six bulldogs of the sea, the smallest of which weighed twenty-eight pounds and the largest forty-five pounds, two ounces. Any quantity of the smaller species of sea fishes, such as trout, spot, bluefish, kingfish, perch, and the clumsy flounder, the latter known as 'ocean doormats,' but an exquisite pan fish, were taken, besides innumerable sharks, skates and always dangerous stingereys.
"Not only did we have exceptional luck but Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Gray established what undoubtedly is the world record for one days' catch of channel bass by two women angling with rod and reel. Working only a part of the flood and ebb tides they played and brought to Captain Phillips' gaff eight big drum, the total weight of which was 279 pounds. It was the luck of Mr. Clark and myself on this red letter day to be casting for small mouth black bass in an old mill pond several miles inland. While the hotel guests were crowded around our basket of small mouths which weighed twenty-six pounds, four ounces in total-thirty-two fish - there was a yell from the darkness outside and when we investigated we found spread out on the grass eight great channel bass, while the two fair anglers proudly stood beside their prizes, with Captain Phillips grinning in the background.
One more piece of fortune remained for the Cleveland party. On the last day of fishing outside, with the guide and myself as the only others in the boat, Mrs. Gray hooked into the largest red drum that has been landed along the Virginia coast this season. While we looked on she fought her prize like a veteran and in thirty-five minutes brought him to gaff: Three hours after being taken from the water he weighed forty-five pounds, two ounces. He measured four feet, one inch in length and was thirty-one inches in girth. Mrs. Gray has entered her catch in the Field and Stream contest. As fifth prize last year was a forty-five pounder landed by Mr. Clark, and reports are the drum are running smaller along the coast this year, she hopes to be in the prize list.
"Let me tell you something about Wachapreague and the method of angling for channel bass. Before Mr. Clark's visit there last year angling for red drum at Wachapreague in September was unheard of. Everybody said the drum had moved on down the coast. But the Lakewood man went out, located the sloughs and brought in many fish. Since then the fame of this little Virginia fishing village has spread until now the red drum anglers gather there from all parts of the country for the September and October sport.
"The village is twelve miles from the sea and is built along one of the many estuaries that run through the miles and miles of marshes between the main land and the open ocean. The channel bass feed in the sloughs that parallel the beach and in the breakers along the shores of two big islands just off the coast.
"Red drum come in to feed along the beach at only two stages of the tide, when it is coming flood, and when the waters are starting to ebb. This means the angler has less than two hours of flood tide fishing. Then he might just as well stop until full water is passed and the ebb flow has started strongly from the beach. He can fish the ebb for another hour or so, and then the fishing is over until the next flood tide, twelve hours later.
"When we arrived at Wachapreague the flood tide came at 4 in the morning, so rising time was 2 p. m., as it takes two hours in the slow moving bank skiff to reach the angling grounds.
"Starting in the darkness, with nothing but inky night all around, steering through the bays and marshes by the stars, was a weird experience. As the skiff plowed through the bays and marsh streams the waves lapped at the bow and surged away on each side, two silver streams of phosphorescent liquid. As the east began to lighten with the coming day the water fowl awoke. A shadowy shape overhead resolved into a gull, gracefully sailing with the just stirring morning breeze. Its shrill cry sounded weirdly on our ears, as it was answered by others of these sturdy dwellers of the ocean wastes that fear not storm nor roaring seas.
"Presently it was light enough to rig up and we drew from their cases the sturdy rods, attached the big free spool reels, threaded the linen lines through the guides and attached our rigs, consisting of 9.0 hand forged hooks, swiveled to a yard of springy piano wire, above which by a buckskin loop was attached the line, with its free running swiveled three-ounce pyramid sinker. Woolen thumb stalls were gotten out and slipped on, and the leather butt sockets strapped around the women's waist, while we men clamped to the boat seat in the stern our rod butt sockets. All was ready for he battle soon to come.
In a few minutes the stout bank skiff began to plunge and buck through the roaring rip tide between Hog and Parramore Islands. In the distance great rollers boomed and burst into clouds of feathery spray on the outer bar. Along Hog Island beach the sea expended its fury in a continual line of surging, whitecrested billows. Capt. Phillips kept the skiff's nose straight into the oncoming seas and spray drenched us all, continually. When the proper point opposite Hog island beach was reached the skiff was turned toward shore and just when it seemed the bursting waves would swallow the little craft the anchor plunged overboard, the stout rope was paid out for twenty-five feet or more, and all was ready.
"Capt. Phillips dug from the icebox a big handful of juicy fatbacks, or mullet, cut them through the center, impaled the tail part on a hook, then the head portion. With the free spool lever at release first one, then another of us stood up, braced our feet against the rolling of the skiff, and sent the line spinning far astern, toward the breakers, or out to sea.
"The flood tide was setting in strongly along the beach and it was difficult to determine when a drum was flirting with the bait. The first strike fell to Clark and myself jointly. Just as we were changing from one end of the seat to the other because of crossed lines Clark handed his rod to me and took mine. With arms outstretched and hands gripping the butt of Clark's outfit I felt a gentle tug. Then came a run of ten feet with the bait. For perhaps a half minute there was nothing doing, then the line began to go out steadily, but slowly. Faster and faster the reel handle turned until it was buzzing merrily. After fully fifty feet of line had been taken out on this last rush I braced myself to strike. With the rod butt in the leather socket and both stall incased thumbs on the reel I pressed down and at the same time pulled back sturdily on the rod.
"Instantly the line began to spin from the reel like lightning and despite that I pressed down my thumbs as hard as I could it continued to stream out and the rod to tremble and bend alarmingly with the terrific strain. The drum's first rush to sea took 400 of the 600 feet of line. Then he was checked and by pumping I managed to regain perhaps fifty feet. The big fish next sought the bottom and tried to get free of the annoying hook by digging into the sand and fiercely shaking his head. He was stopped from this by short but steady pumping of the rod. Then he started swiftly and directly for the skiff. I never before reeled in line so fast, and managed to keep him from gaining too much slack.
"When within fifty feet of the boat he swirled to the surface and we had our first glimpse of him as his copper and gold sides flashed in the sun while he was lifted on the crest of a great comber. Again he rushed out to sea, but this time it was a shorter run. This was repeated several times. At last the drum was brought to within ten feet of the skiff and Capt. Phillips grabbed for his gaff hook. But as the guide leaned over the side prepared to strike the big bass saw him and despite all the tension I dared put on the tackle again rushed out to sea. The battle for the next few minutes was a repetition of all that had gone before. Finally as the big fellow came to the surface he turned on his side, and we knew the fight was won. He soon was reeled to within striking distance of the gaff and was landed safely over the side.
As for me, my thumb and hand muscles ached, my back was sore and I was about all in.
"The prettiest sight of the day was when Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Gray both hooked into a drum at nearly the same time. Side by side in the bow, they fought their battle, while we men looked on and gave words of encouragement or, perhaps, advice. Both brought their prizes to gaff. It was an auspicious opening and the augury was fulfilled in the days to come.
"Such is drum angling at Wachapreague. Would you like to try it?"