On Sunday, however, the weather gods smiled, with the winds having died down considerably overnight. The prognosis seemed good when we headed out for some morning crabbing with Joe's longtime friend Phil Weglein and his daughter Audrey. Around 0730 we got underway and decided to first put the trot line in at Whitehall Bay, just a few minutes from the dock. The first run brought 5 large Blue Crabs to the basket. At that pace we figured we'd have a bushel in short order. Unfortunately, subsequent runs produced only a crab or two, or none at all. So we made the command decision to pull the line and head to a productive spot in the Severn River close to the Naval Academy. Again, though, we were frustrated by low numbers on the line. Apparently, and for no known reason, there is a point in the season where the crabbing slows down. That's the only reason we could come up with, as we were in the right place at the right depth. We only put a dozen or so crabs in the basket, although they were all larges, and would have fetched a good $100 at Cantler's.
While the morning charter was less than satisfactory, we picked up Mike "Gilligan" Shina around 1130 and headed back out for Stripers. Figuring that Hacketts was dead, we decided to hit spots north of the Bay Bridge. The winds had died to around 10 knots, temps were in the low 80s, with water temps hovering in the high 70s on an incoming tide, and the bay rolling but comfortable. We drove up to the sewer pipe on the eastern shore, but the Lowrance showed no fish. We then moved up to Podickery Point, on the western side, and picked up a small fish bottom bouncing soft crabs and Alewive, but again we just weren't marking enough fish to justify sticking around. So we decided to head up to Love Point, about 4 miles or so north of the bridge on the eastern side of the bay. As we neared Love Point we could see boats on the horizon, and as we continued to close it was obvious that "the fleet" was anchored at the point in about 30 feet of water. So we maneuvered into a nice spot just up from a charter boat, anchored up, dropped the chum log, and put the lines in around 1445.
The Lowrance immediately lit up with fish, and it wasn't long until we had rods bending for about an hour and a half. Five fish, ranging from 21 to 24 inches went into the cooler. Only one more fish to make our limit, when Mike uttered a guarantee that we'd limit out, words that could only serve to tempt the fish gods. Only having a banana in the boat could make the mojo any worse, and for the next 30 minutes or so we suffered through small fish, lost fish, and missed fish.
Tight Lines,
Mikey D Fishing